A/N: And here's the chapter of the month. Sorry; the book still isn't done, so slow updates are still necessary. XP

Sciencegal - So long as Coyo isn't compared to a bimbo during her antics, I'll be happy. LOL Soap was supposed to be the comical one, yet now that's Coyo. How character change...

Zathura - Yup! And Coyo ain't going anywhere, much to Leo's chagrin. :P

CHAPTER 06: GIBBERISH

The sun had almost disappeared behind K'ekchi Village, and Coyolxauhqui was counting the moments before her departure.

"Coyo, are you listening?"

"Yes?"

"Then why are you walking away?"

Coyo paused. She lifted her attention from her dirty feet then faced the man accompanying her. Donned in a beaded collar and elaborated breechcloth, he had a strong profile that betrayed his sickly figure.

"Forgive me," she said. "My mind is—"

"Afloat. As usual."

The woman huffed. "Wee-tsee-loh-pōch-tlee."

"My name is not a complaint, Coyo." Huitzilopochtli would not meet his sister's stare. He rarely did when upset. Still, Coyo could picture the disappointment behind his dark orange eyes.

"Huitzi—"

"These are our people," Huitzi interjected.

"I understand."

"You cannot disregard their plights because you prefer to daydream."

"You think me uncaring?" Huitzi continued to hobble ahead with his staff, so Coyo blocked his path, saying, "I care!"

"Then why not listen?"

"That is…I…" The woman lacked a satisfying answer; every thought she had gravitated towards the turtle-like creature she had been sneaking off to visit.

"As I thought." Huitzi rounded Coyo with a sigh. "Head in the clouds. Just like Tacapantzin."

"Speaking ill of the dead is unlike you, Huitzi."

"Just as it is unlike you to ignore a shortage in our food supply."

"Ha—have I not explained?" Coyo rejoined her brother's side. "Several missing Guayaba or Naranjilla hardly causes alarm, yes? A family of Ozomahtli has been spotted nearby. I doubt they would resist temptation."

Huitzi shook his head. "Our fruits attribute a bigger issue. Several of Nenetl's herbs have gone missing as well. Her Tetani reserves have been nearly depleted."

Guilt swelled inside Coyo, forcing silence on her.

"Local Pitzotl have begun migrating towards The Yaoqui's perimeters," Huitzi added. "We cannot hunt and avoid our enemies. And now the Pesto Tribe across the river has begun to overfish our waters."

"Huh?" Coyo asked. "They are expanding? Defiling the treaty?"

Huitzilopochtli looked pained when he nodded, although that could be attributed to his stumble. He cursed, steadied himself, and then removed a cork from an animal-hide flask tied around his neck.

"How much Chicha have you drank today?" asked Coyolxauhqui. She watched with a sunken heart as her brother gulped the alcohol.

"Not enough," Huitzi answered. He wiped his mouth then stuffed the cork back into the flask's neck. "You could be the final K'ekchi Chieftain."

"Do not say such things. You are older. You are Chieftain."

"Coyo"—Huitzi's hand laid on his sister's shoulder—"even Chieftain Coatlicue knew the truth. Her symptoms were similar to mine and, like her, I will not recover."

"Please, Huitzi—"

"Denial is foolish. The Yaoqui's poisons have grown stronger, as have their forces. Since Coatlicue's passing, our people have had an increase in sickness and hunger. To conquer that, we need a leader who uses her head, not loses it."

Coyo's lower lip trembled. She hated whenever Huitzi spoke as if he already occupied a grave—like he was a spirit grooming her for a role she never wanted. Yet she steeled her jaw.

'Be like water,' she thought. 'Let the ripples flow outward or away or…something.' How did that saying go? She felt terrible for butchering it.

"Coyo?"

"May I leave?" Although her abruptness made Huitzi frown, he nodded.

"You are Chieftain," he said.

Coyolxauhqui forwent any formalities. Huitzilopochtli was aware she hated reminders about her tribe's poor standing, and the last emotion she wanted to carry was despair. So, she tucked the argument at the back of her mind and instead clung to hope. Soon she would be back in the forest, tending a being who she could label as neither man nor beast.

Leonardo loathed the chirps and trills of the Amazon Rainforest. Birds. Monkeys. Frogs. They all shared a freedom that he struggled to regain, and at times, he swore they teased him for it. Just like Donald.

"Least yer voice is comin' back, eh?" the brunette asked.

Leo kept his eyes fixed on his dirt-stained fingers. They curled loosely by his face, but at least they moved.

"Ya sound like a cancerous smoker," continued Donald. "Still, beggars can't be choosers. Hey, think we'll actually talk to that lady this time? Ya know, instead of just glarin'?"

Please. Glaring was the least Leonardo could do. Sunken in mud, battered, and paralyzed, he clung to what little control he had. That said, as the days passed and Leo's limbs mended, his hostility waned. The tribeswoman had every chance for murder or abandonment. She chose neither.

So the bigger question became: what did she expect from him?

Donald snorted. "Ya could ask. Or perhaps ya're too scared? Scared she'll turn out like Lombardo and Stephens."

The mutant wouldn't acknowledge Donald's footfalls. They weren't real. Not like his cotton mouth, clenched hand, and aching bones. He raised his eyes towards the forest's canopy. The sky was darkening, which meant his nurse would appear soon.

Would she bring that paste again? Hopefully not. The strange painkiller turned his stomach and left him stiff. If only his voice weren't so hoarse. Maybe then he could ask for an alternative remedy.

That is if she would even understand…

Leonardo twitched—senses lit by faint crunching then a yelp. He watched through narrow eyes as a tribeswoman stumbled into his sanctuary. She balanced on one leg and pulled at a vine that kept her other leg outstretched. How it wrapped so many times around her shin was a mystery. But Leo cared less about mystery and more about what she carried in her basket.

'Great, more fruit.'

With a huff, the tribeswoman freed herself. She nodded towards the trees as if she held some personal vendetta against them, although that smugness died once she saw Leo. She cried in her native tongue, running forward.

She must've been upset that the mutant no longer sat in the position she had last left him in yesterday. What was he supposed to do, though? His legs had moved, however briefly. Too bad their healing rate paled when compared to his upper body.

"N—no," Leo hissed. He shied from the tribeswoman's hand then urged her backward. "I—" He swallowed. "I do…it."

The tribeswoman stared with blank, orange eyes.

No matter. Leo tucked an arm under his side then pushed. He may as well have weighed a ton at the rate he lifted himself. Yet he persisted until he sat upright. Shouldn't that have pleased the tribeswoman? Not brought murmurs to her lips and her fingers to his arm?

She surveyed him through prods and strokes that stung his bruises. Her brows furrowed, gaze focused on the discolored skin. To her, it must've seemed strange; not two days ago there had been a hump where his fractured forearm turned askew. Now it was straight.

'Thanks to Recro-12.'

"Sucks to think that, doesn't it?" Donald asked. Leo felt breath against the side of his head. "Yer legs were twisted, yer spine nearly snapped. Ya could feel yer organs failin'. Yet here ya are, reforming like a salamander or starfish."

Leonardo turned, drawing back his arm. "W-wa…ter," he said.

The tribeswoman shook her head.

"Water," Leo repeated. "Dri…nk."

Again, she shook her head.

'She's given me water before,' the mutant thought. Then again, he'd never asked for it.

"Duhn…ka?" the human questioned. She muttered then exclaimed—all in her native tongue.

"I…I don't—" Leo cut himself off with a sigh.

"Drun-ka," she whispered. "Hwa—wah-ter."

"Yes, water." Coughing, Leo brought a hand to his cracked lips, even though his fingers couldn't form a cup.

"Ei!" the tribeswoman cried. "Ah-tl!"

"Ah-tl?"

"Keh-ma!" The tribeswoman shifted through her basket. Beneath a distressed cloth and pile of what looked like shriveled potatoes, she pulled out an animal-hide flask. "Ah-tl," she said while holding it up.

Leo nodded. "Water."

The human looked proud then uncorked the flask. Despite the trembles in his hands, Leo refused to let her pour any water in his mouth. She'd done that enough times already.

'Not concerned about Cholera or Salmonellosis anymore, eh?' asked Donald inside Leo's mind.

Guess not. If had survived a fall from one of the tallest trees in the Amazon, what was a sickness?

Leo tilted his head back and gulped as much water as his tender throat would allow. He gasped for air once the flask was emptied then began coughing before he swallowed the last mouth-full. The tribeswoman reached over to pat his carapace, but her fingers were unwanted. Leo pushed her, glaring as his cough worsened.

"Shoo-moh-kak-gawa!" she yelled.

"Don't"—Leo panted—"touch me."

The tribeswoman stood, red-faced. What was her problem? She finds a half-dead, talking mutant in the wilderness, and meets any hostility with a huff? Somehow, Leo suspected he wasn't the first anomaly she had faced.

"Mah-shill-tla-poh-pohl-we," she said.

Leonardo rubbed his face. "Your words… are gibberish."

"Ne-mes-la-lout-tia." The human kneeled by Leo, who faced her hesitantly. Her smile returned, and she placed a hand over her chest. "No ni-mitz-no-palehui-lea."

Must Leo repeat himself? He scowled, yet the tribeswoman tapped her chest again, saying,

"Notōcā Cō-hōl-shall-ski."

Cō-hōl-shall-ski? She had used that word before. Right? Recalling the last few days was like looking through dirty water.

"Cō-hōl-shall-ski," she repeated. It must've been her name; she gestured towards Leo next.

Should he bother? The moment he was healed, he planned to disappear. Even so, she was helping him.

"Leonardo," he said.

Coyolxauhqui bounced on her knees. "Leonardo. No ni-mitz-no-palehui-lea."

Leo groaned. "I don't understand that."

"Ooh-no-an?"

"Yes, I don't understand."

"Yes? Oo-no-an?"

"No, I don't."

"Yes, no?"

"No. Just no."

"No. Yes?"

"Just. No."

"Tlen?"

Leonardo slapped a palm against his face. He could feel it; this visit would be much longer than the rest. And it would start with him explaining how he wouldn't use her topical painkiller.