Winter in Eden

wound to staunch the flow of blood."
    Ambalasi looked down at the blood-sodden wad of leaves that Enge held to the other's side. "An intelligent action, Enge," she said. "Hold it there still while I bring some comfort."
    The little snake lay coiled and sluggish in its basket. Ambalasi took it behind the head and squeezed it so that its mouth opened and exposed the single long fang. With her free hand she took out a nefmakel and exposed its moist underside, used it to wipe clean the skin in Efen's groin. This not only cleaned off the mud—it destroyed any bacteria with its antiseptic action. She discarded the creature and pressed Efen's damp skin to reveal the artery pulsing there; with delicate touch pushed the sharp fang into it. The modified venom flowed into Efen's blood; she was unconscious within moments. Only then did Ambalasi uncover the wound.
    "A clean bite. It took out a lot of muscle but did not penetrate the omentum. I'll just have to clean it up a bit." The string knife removed the ragged flesh. As the wound began to bleed again she unrolled a larger nefmakel and placed it over the damaged area. The creature stuck there, stopping the bleeding and sealing it completely. "Take her some place to rest. She will be all right."
    "Gratitude to Ambalasi as always," Enge said, rising slowly.
    "Wash yourself—you are filthy with mud and blood. What creature bit her?"
    "That." Enge indicated the riverbank. "It was tangled in our net."
    Ambalasi turned to look—and for the first time in living memory was struck speechless.
    It was still alive, writhing on the ground, crushing bushes and small trees. A great, undulating gray length, as thick through as a fargi's body, stretched out on the ground the length of two, three Yilanè—with more of its serpentine form still in the water. Its jaw of great bony plates gaped wide, its tiny and deadly eyes staring sightlessly.
    "We have found it," Ambalasi said finally, with some satisfaction. "You saw the elvers in midocean. This is the adult."
    Winter in Eden - Harry Harrison
    "An eel?" Enge signed awe and understanding. "This new world of Ambalasokei is indeed a world of many surprises."
    "By its very nature it must be," Ambalasi said, sinking back into her normal didactic personality now that the first shock of recognition had passed. "I doubt if you are capable of understanding the theory of tectonic plates and continental drift so I will not trouble your mind with it. But you will be able to appreciate the results. This land, and distant Entoban* were once one. All of the creatures were the same.
    This was soon after the cracking of the egg of time. Since then slow differentiation and the process of natural selection have caused major changes—must have caused major changes in the species. I imagine we will find others, though none perhaps as dramatic as this."
    Within a few days Ambalasi was to remember saying this with some chagrin. It was perhaps the most erroneous assumption that she had ever made.
    Efen's wound healed easily. On the positive side of the accident was the acquisition of the large eel. It was gigantic—and very tasty, and fed them all with much left over. Stronger nets were constructed, more precautions taken, and their source of food guaranteed. Softened by enzymes, it was the best food they had known since their imprisonment.
    When the well-fed uruketo returned they used it to cross the river to the site of their new city. The Daughters were eager to see this place of great importance and there was no shortage of volunteers for this expedition.
    "Would that this eagerness for work was more evenly apportioned," Ambalasi grumbled, selected only the strongest then drove the rest away. As soon as they were aboard, and despite their protests, she ordered them all into the interior, sharing the fin-top only with Enge and Elem.
    "Make note," Ambalasi ordered, "that your Sisters while avoiding all real work are always ready to volunteer for an outing. Perhaps you ought to consider some system of awards for labor since you cannot order them to do it."
    "There is much truth in what you say, as always, and I will think about it," Enge said. "Although I understand them and know their feelings, yet I also know that we must devise some way of sharing the work. I will study the thoughts of Ugunenapsa more closely because she may have considered this problem as well."
    "I know—and I grieve. It has my fullest attention."
    The uruketo shuddered beneath them as