How did they become friends?
It was the only good thing my father ever did for me. He still nearly managed to make it terrible, of course, but it worked out somehow.
My family lived in the serenity of the French countryside, miles away from the closest town. I was homeschooled by my mother who shared her love of plants and herbal remedies with me, despite her own poor health. My father, for all he was worth, was rarely home, leaving me to take care of my mother alone. Good riddance. However, shortly before my nineteenth birthday, my father returned to inform me that he had sent a letter to have me recruited for an expedition to Africa. I was mortified--who would take care of my mother? Yet the opportunity was hard to resist, and upon my mother's insistence, I decided I would go after all, with only a shoulderbag of necessities and medical supplies.---
When I arrived in the city of Cairo, Egypt, my first thought was how hot it was. Wishing I'd had some sort of parasol handy, I found the building in which I had to complete my registration for the two-year expedition. To my surprise I was told to head to a spot on the Nile River "near a log that sticks out of the water" to catalogue the flora and be met by someone else who would be my afternoon partner. It was hardly specific but I went nonetheless, almost miraculously finding said log right away.
Glancing around, I took in the river and its dirt bank--and plant life, most importantly. With bright eyes I trotted closer and sat down, whipping a small, new sketchbook out of my bag. A blue flower floating in the water grabbed my attention and I began drawing.
"Hey, you! Watch out, there's a crocodile right to your left!"
It couldn't have been more than ten minutes, the sudden call tearing me from my focus on the blue lotus. I fell backward out of surprise, then looked left--and quickly stepped up the bank at the sight of a crocodile lurking in the murky river. I put my sketchbook away as the source of the voice ran over the pebbles and dirt to greet me. "There you go--it almost looked like you'd fall into the water there." In a good-natured tone, the other added, "Good thing I'm here to help you with the animal life in the area. It's not my number one specialty, but I've got the know-how to get you by; like, there's that crocodile there, and I know the names of a lot of fish in the waters. Would'ja like me to name them?"
As the Kalon spoke, I took in his Russian accent, his dark red pelt, his pleasant demeanor. Instinctively I knew I would like him and I gave a sigh of relief. "Thanks, I'd never have noticed it." I ran a paw through my hair out of habit and sat down before continuing: "So you're my partner for the afternoon! I'm Amadou Riqueti, plant specialist." The Kalon's words came together and I tilted my head to one side. "Fish? There's a lot?"
At this the other's grin widened. "Ooh yes, we've got mudfish, giant catfish, marbled lungfish, African knifefish, the Nile motor, the Nile tilapia, and many other species that live in the area that aren't fish!" He paused, then his dusky yellow eyes lit up as he appeared to remember something. "Aha, sorry, I got a little ahead of myself. I'm Misalov Curait, culture specialist--but, well, I've learned a decent amount about African wildlife along the way."
"Wow, seems I got a good partner!" I responded, ears pricked as I got to my feet. "Shall we get right to it then,
partenaire¹?"
"Totally!" Misalov whisked out his own notepad, a visibly used piece I could see was full of notes and short handwriting. The Kalon looked around for a moment, then mused, "It's really pretty, isn't it?" He squinted and made a note before walking to peer into the water away from the crocodiles.
"It's certainly a change from my home," I responded, retrieving my sketchbook and padding back to the water's edge. Examining a patch of tall reeds I murmured, "The ancient papyrus, eh..." followed by Misalov speaking to himself: "There's a little toad in the dirt there. African common toad."
Curious, I leaned over to see for myself, spotting the fat little brown creature. An amused note in my voice, I joked, "He's had one too many croissants lately, I think." Smirking slightly at my humor, I returned to a sketch of the papyrus.
"
Niet², I had an apple for breakfast."
I glanced back at the other, blinking in surprise. Had...had he just sassed me? Misalov was scribbling notes as if nothing had happened and added, "We need to catalogue all the animals and plants in the area, so let's get to it!"
"Ah, right." As I went about my own work I occasionally peered over at my partner, fascinated by this fellow who was certainly a surprise to me.
---
By the time the sun was setting we had scoured the Nile up and down for two miles both ways. As Misalov and I returned to the place where the log stuck out of the river, I briefly took in the multicolored sky and the bird calls filling the cooling air.
"It's so cool that we got so much down!" Misalov exclaimed. "I didn't think we'd see the African shoebill."
"Strange looking bird it was, too," I replied, recalling the gray bird with its curious beak as I flipped through my sketchbook. "I'm just glad to have found that patch of chamomile. Good for insomnia, makes a nice tea. I needed more." It was true--we had found a massive patch of chamomile, and I slept better with a cup of the tea before bed. I closed my book and tucked it away. "It's been nice having you around, Misalov. You know your stuff!"
"Spasibo³!" The Kalon answered in his native tongue. "I especially like that doum palm you pointed out to me that has the Akat fruit. Sweet, but sour!" My red-furred companion started toward the city, then turned back for a moment to call, "Maybe I'll see you around more on the expedition! Gotta run!"
Misalov disappeared over the hill and I smiled to myself. "I look forward to it."
---
¹ Partenaire;; French, “partner” --- ² Niet;; Russian, “no” --- ³ Spasibo;; Russian, “thank you”
---
It was a few weeks and a trek down the Nile that brought Misalov's path across mine again. I was sprawled out in the dirt among some acacia scrub, sketching and taking notes on a sample of the plant when my ears flicked at the sound of someone approaching. Bringing my head up to see, I spotted a group of natives from the area--and a familiar red pelt.
Misalov broke off the conversation he seemed to be having and hurried toward me as I put my things away. "Hey, Amadou! Wow, I know we don't know each other all that well, but I was talking to these natives and they're taking me to one of the hidden Merotic pyramids! You see, ever since the Turkish took control over Sudan, there has been a lot of these pyramids destroyed in search of gold, and an increase in the slave trade that has led to the fleeing of many people, especially in the area by the Nile of Al Jazirah. Some have even been sent to Egypt to be conscripted into the Egyptian military, and end up dying of disease!" The Kalon stopped, out of breath from his explanation. Then: "Do you wanna come 'n see one of the last few pyramids around with me!"
A slightly bewildered expression crossing my face, I muttered, "
Beaucoup d'informations⁴...!" before responding with an interested tone. "I'd like to see the foliage in that area anyway, the pyramids have been on my list to see for a while." Though I didn't expect much to grow in the sandy desert, it wouldn't hurt to look, and anyway, the pyramids would be fascinating.
"Отлично⁵! C'mon!" Misalov began turning away, motioning the natives to follow as I trotted after the Kalon down a now-visible path.
---
⁴ Beaucoup d'informations;; French, “so much information” --- ⁵ Отлично;; Russian, “great!”
---
Months after, Misalov and I met once again. After a morning that started too early and ended with me not being able to find my comb, I was already quite irritated and had marched to the edge of Lake Victoria to sit in the shallow water among a clump of papyrus reeds. But I still had no peace, for a fish eagle dived at the water mere feet away, startling me.
A growl in my throat, I shouted, "
Va te faire cuire un oeuf⁶!" Unfortunately this only aggravated the eagle and I was forced to take off running along the shore with an unhappy eagle sailing after me.
"Amadouuu! Lovely day, isn't it? This lake is the best lake I've ever been to!" Casting a glance inland, I realized it was Misalov. He seemed to notice I was being attacked and called out, "You gotta scare it!" as the Kalon leapt up and raced toward me. He yelled at the eagle, spooking it and sending the bird spiraling away into the sky.
"
Mon Dieu⁷, I thought I'd have to run back to Cairo to get rid of it!" I huffed, sitting down on the sand. "Thanks Misalov. Say, what are you doing out here?"
The red-furred Russian winked as he caught his breath. "Glad to know I helped." He turned to gaze at the farm behind him and explained, "I was just trying to figure out how to eat one of them matokes."
"Ah, those!" My eyes brightened. "You've got to peel and steam them for hours. It's quite a process."
Misalov looked at me with a surprised expression but continued on. "I suppose I'll have to get cooking, then! Wanna help? Or you busy here?"
I couldn't help a small smile. "Only getting chased around the lake," I responded. "The farmers here showed me how to prepare the matokes; I can certainly help you make some."
"
Klassno⁸!" The Kalon exclaimed as we headed back toward the farm.
---
⁶ Va te faire cuire un oeuf;; French, “Go and cook yourself an egg,” get lost but don’t starve --- ⁷ Mon Dieu;; French, “My god” --- ⁸ Klassno;; Russian, “awesome”
---
Weeks later I ran into Misalov yet again in Congo. Three women in colorful dresses and golden jewelry had come across me in the middle of taking a sample. When I explained what I was doing and that I was curious in its medicinal properties, the women offered to help me out back at their
vata⁹, an offer I couldn't hardly refuse. However, as we entered the village, a familiar voice met my ears. Quickly communicating to the women that I would be right back, I slipped closer to the voice, ducking behind one of the makeshift huts to see Misalov speaking with a man who was clearly the tribe leader. "
Que se passé-t-il¹⁰...?" I watched for a long moment as Misalov asked several questions which, apparently unknown to him, were making the leader a bit uncomfortable, for I could see his eyes darting to either of his guards. Immediately concerned that Misalov might be getting himself into more trouble than he can handle, I sauntered out of hiding and called out, "Misalov! Fancy meeting you here!"
The red-furred Kalon barreled on for a moment until he realized I had shown up. His error dawning on him, Misalov shyly took in at the tribe leader's somewhat guilty expression. "Sorry about that,
Nkuluntu¹¹. I can ask other tribe members about their experiences." The chief simply responded with a "Yes, that'll be good."
"Thanks for that," Misalov addressed me as he stepped closer, nodding to the
nkuluntu¹¹. "Aha, I can get ahead of myself sometimes..."
"I've noticed," I said with a smirk. "But if you're looking for others to talk to, perhaps the group I'm with here? Some women from the tribe are going to show me some of the plants they use for medicine, maybe you can talk to them." I nodded toward the three women so he could see.
Misalov spotted the group and nodded. "Oh yeah, they should know a lot about their culture! And from a different perspective, too..." The Kalon paused to think, then after a moment added, "Yeah, thanks!"
---
⁹ vata;; “village” --- ¹⁰ Que se passé-t-il;; French, “what’s going on” --- ¹¹ nkuluntu;; “chief”
---
Misalov and I had a fifth meeting some time later in Zambia. I was taking notes on a plant sample when a pair of Portuguese settlers passed by, stopping to comment that if I were a native I was unwelcome in their land. Immediately aggravated by the blatant disrespect stemming from the bad terms between the natives and settlers, I snapped my sketchbook shut and whirled on the two. "
Faut pas pousser mémé dans les orties¹²!" I growled. "If you're going to steal valuable space from people you could at least be civil to them!" My ears laid flat against my head as all three of us quickly grew tense.
"Hey Sandro, Raul!" A voice suddenly cut in, causing me to turn and blink at Misalov. "I wouldn't worry too much about what Amadou says--it's just been a long day, I'm sure. And bad Portuguese...I'm sure he means, like I think, that the space you use is important to farming. After all, your work makes it important. ладно¹³?"
At first I was quite offended that Misalov had taken it upon himself to pull words out of my mouth, but I just as quickly realized I had maybe overreacted and making enemies wasn't a good call here. "R...right," I stated reluctantly, relaxing somewhat. "I apologize. Misalov is correct, it's been a long day." I could see the red Kalon grin a bit at this as Sandro and Raul took their leave with "Fine. We'll be going." I was hardly satisfied with the situation, but thank heavens Misalov was around.
---
¹² Faut pas pousser mémé dans les orties;; French, “Don’t push grandma in stinging nettle,” you’re going way too far --- ¹³ ладно;; Russian, “okay”
---
It had been a few months since then, the expedition diving further and further into Southern Africa. I almost didn't expect to see Misalov again, which was admittedly a bit disappointing. I had grown fond of our adventures.
I couldn't have been more wrong, however. I was out once again taking samples from a new plant when the sound of someone rapidly approaching met my ears. Jerking my head up, my eyes widened at the sight of Misalov being chased by a small band of Zulus. With sharp weapons. "
Mon Dieu, courir¹⁴...!" I didn't hesitate to fall into place beside Misalov as he came racing past. "What did you do,
ami¹⁵!?" I cried with a panicked glance over my shoulder.
Misalov let out a nervous laugh. "Well," he paused, "I don't think I quite learned my lesson from the last time you helped me..." The red-furred Kalon appeared strained as he too peered back at the Zulus. "
Tu es fou¹⁶...!" I sighed, only half-joking. We ran until I heard a gentle whoosh of air, followed by Misalov stumbling to a near halt and muttering, "Oh god..." I stopped short a few feet ahead, turning back to find that the Kalon's flank had been grazed by an arrow and was bleeding. Returning to Misalov's side, I growled. "Tch...we need to lose them!" My eyes darted around wildly in search of somewhere to go, but without luck, and I narrowly missed a second arrow as it zipped past my open side, a yelp escaping my throat as it thudded into the ground before us. The Zulus would have Kalon stew for dinner, and I was about to say so...
...when I heard new shouts approaching from ahead. I blinked, then breathed a sigh of relief as farmers waving pitchforks neared. "Get out of here!" They roared. "You've caused us enough hardship as it is!"
"слава богу Слава¹⁷!" Misalov murmured, drawing my attention as he winced and limped along.
"You know them?" I inquired before casting a glance back. "They're falling behind...!"
"I..." Misalov paused, clearly in pain, "talked to them earlier, about their lives." He smiled--well, it was more like a grimace--and added, "I guess they liked me better than these Zulus do."
I felt a slight grin cross my features and looked one final time to see the Zulus turning away. "Ah, they're leaving!" Exhaling once more, I turned back to Misalov. "We'll have to thank them, but we should do something about that wound first." I gently nudged the Kalon to the side of the path where I sat down and began to paw through my bag.
"Thanks," Misalov responded, a tired note in his voice as he collapsed and let his head droop. "It's a good thing those farmers remembered me...and that I ran into you."
My face the image of seriousness, I crushed a handful of herbs between my paws and stated, "We do that a lot."
"Yeah, we do, don't we," the other said with a bit of a shy grin despite his obvious pain.
I simply nodded. "This might sting," I warned, earning a wince from Misalov as I pressed the herbs against the wound, covered it with an aloe leaf, and wrapped it all neatly with some of the bandage I'd brought from home. "If we saw each other any more we could be partners again, like that first day." I laughed at the memory and relaxed somewhat. "You and your little toad friend, remember?"
Misalov breathed a quick thanks. "Ah, that little guy. He more got in the way of some of our work than anything, though." He exhaled, then gingerly tested his flank. It would hurt for a while, but I noted that the bleeding had been stemmed. "Partners wouldn't be bad. Like, permanent? This expedition is coming to an end, after all...we definitely won't see each other after this otherwise.
At this I paused in the middle of reorganizing my bag. "It's almost over...I nearly forgot..." Slowly I looked up at Misalov. "There's still a lot of world to explore, lots of trouble we could both end up in. Perhaps we'd manage better as a team?"
The Kalon's gold eyes lit up as he smiled and momentarily forgot his wound. "Yeah! That'd be a great idea. We can double team the research done!"
I grinned back at my friend. "All right then,
partenaire¹!" For a heartbeat I paused before continuing; "I'd say we should shake on it, but you need all your paws at the moment."
In response Misalov carefully sat down, lifting his chin to meet my gaze as he announced, "I've got a paw to spare," and held out a paw.
I shook it and gave a nod, feeling completely content and happy for the first time, well, maybe ever.
"It's settled then," the Kalon sighed, tired again. "Let's get back to somewhere safe, друг¹⁸."
---
And that's the story of how I met Misalov Curait, my partner and best friend.
---
¹⁴ Mon Dieu, courir;; French, “My god, run” --- ¹⁵ ami;; French, “friend” --- ¹⁶ Tu es fou;; French, “You’re crazy!”, normally intended as a jest --- ¹⁷ слава богу Слава;; Russian, “thank god”--- ¹⁸ друг;; Russian, “friend”
Link to partner's post:Colour54Pixel art done by me may be claimed by the winner
Center art by Colour54.Holli.
by Canis2954 » Fri Mar 03, 2017 5:10 pm 
