Palmora

“How, with so much planet to explore, are you here?”
“I live in these Badlands, in the mountains, there, in the distance.” Star set was oncoming, and Arlee made camp on the other side of a small pool, no more than ten feet from my own camp.
      “If you live here, you know the terrain; why not find another spot for your camp?”
“If you lived in the Badlands, you would know walking about at night on volcanic glass that can cut into and through you is a bit reckless. However, if you prefer a private camp, go. I’ll have a rescue team come in and carry you out after the vultures have had their way with you.” I set my cot with a canopy of netting across a rock, just at the side edge of the pool, and anchored it with ten-inch grapplers. The pool was too inviting too ignore, so I removed my clothing and sat in the lukewarm water for an hour or more. He had made a small fire on his side of the pool, warmed rice stew, and was eating as I rose and pulled the netting from my cot. He was watching my every move, but his small fire allowed little light. The Near Moon was below the horizon. The Far Moon was full,
and my silhouette was clearly visible. As I lay back, “the pool is yours now.” He sat in the pool for an hour reading from a journal on wildlife in the lower Badlands displayed from his comm.
      “It says there are few bothersome insects, although those that are, home around what little moisture can be found. Active mostly early evening or just before the star rises. Is your net necessary? I brought along wild aglio. I crush it and make a smooth jell. It works most places. It should work here.”
      “You’re reading lamp  will attract what vermin might be nearby. Any bright night lamp is a curiosity, and they’ll home in on you.” I had a notion to tell him that his aglio jell is much the same as the lamp, but I decided he should learn to better prepare before hiking into what to him is unknown. “My name, if you were curious, is Arlee. I’m a Sea Angler from Bathington. Do you have a name?”
      “Yes, and I’m not curious.”
“Mysterious, I like that. This may even be a dream. The desert can play tricks I’ve heard, and you
could be the supernatural being they call Ursa, who carries off wayward hikers who venture too near her spirit world. So what is it, am I to be your prey or is the silhouette I see real?”
      I rose with my knees resting on my cot. My hair falling down my backside, long enough to
reach the cot as well. Still in the pool no more than a few inches from my person, he rose, and I knew he could see every curve, every shadow, every dark presence of my body. Why, I thought, should I not have some fun with the man who trespasses into my space and asks me to leave, as if I were the intruder?
      “Sleep friend, you’ve a long hike tomorrow. And please, forgo your jell.”
Was I a witch or Ursa? Did he believe in legend? He left the pool and smothered his person with his jell. As I drifted off to sleep, I saw the agitation surrounding his cot. I awoke just before star rise.
      “I see I made a prey of you after all. Had you listened, and forgone the jell as I advised, you would not have had to spend the night in the pool. Give me your hand.”
      Hesitantly, he extended his hand, which, after removing the netting around my cot, I grasped and placed on my hip.
      “As real as you my friend.  Use this soap to scrub the jell from your body.
I dressed and begun to scrub his cot, removing any sent of the aglio.
      “Here, take these clothes, scrub out the sent while you're in the pool, get out and dress, they’ll dry quickly once you leave the pool.”
      “I was certain you would prey on me, otherwise I would never have used the jell”
“I know.”
      “You may not be a witch, but you certainly could be to play such a nasty trick. How many others have you played with?”
      “None, they were smart enough to research the Badlands before hiking about the Badlands. I hope this lesson serves you well in the future. And if I was a witch, I would have let you sleep, covered you in honey, and loosed ants on you as you slept.”
      “A witch for sure, who else could think up such wicked behavior?”
“Alysha, my name is Alysha, and it was you who came to my garden, not I to yours.”
      “You claim to live in those mountains, how is this your garden?”
“Your right, it’s our garden, or whoever finds their way here, and there are few. The sea you fish is the garden of whoever finds their way there. And I’m certain there are many, and just as certain you would never drag your lines across another." 
      “I’m dragging my gear across your line, is that how you see it?
“I see no deference."
      “I’ll follow my comm back to Asti, you and whoever can keep your garden, and please, please, stay as far from Bathington as possible, and I promise to never visit your garden again.”
     “I’ve never been to Bathington. I’ve always wanted to contract a small boat and fish in big water. Even so, what challenge would that be? I’m sure fish will swallow any bait you throw at then. You probably fish in the deepest water so you can’t be seen from below. You may even troll to mimic smaller fish to catch the bigger one. Is that how it’s done?”
      “The hold in your boat would always be empty lady. You would have nothing to barter.”
“I’m hiking home today. It’s a climb, but the tram is for the weak. What are you Arlee, a tram rider or do you like a challenge?”
      “Ok, I’ll bite, how difficult can a leisurely hike be. I have no need to hurry home.”