The Color of Distance by Amy Thomson

jungle. Why had none of the others tried to save the alien? Clearly they couldn’t be juvenile forms of the aliens; she couldn’t imagine any intelligent species allowing its children to die without lifting a hand to save them. The aliens seemed to regard the workers as expendable. So much for her protection theory. So what was really going on here? She looked at the now-empty branch where the snake had been, and shuddered. It had been a horrible death, made more horrible by the fact that no one had lifted a hand to help the little alien.
    A great, hollow booming resonated throughout the tree, interrupting Juna’s thoughts. The feast was about to start. Looking down, she saw several aliens pounding hard on the huge buttresses of the tree with large sticks. Clouds of bees streamed out of the tree like iridescent smoke.
    After the bees dispersed, a group of aliens climbed out of the tree’s great hollow. They wore garlands of flowers or necklaces of shells, teeth, or fish scales. Some even* wore necklaces made from the strung-together corpses of tiny dried birds. Others carried sprays of branches. Juna found herself wondering if there was any way she could trade for some of the necklaces, especially the one with the dried birds. It would be a treasure trove of specimens.
    The aliens moved with slow solemnity, seating themselves in a large circle around the tree crotch. Then another group of slightly smaller aliens followed them out of the hollow tree, their bodies plain and undecorated. Each one sat behind and slightly to the left of the decorated aliens.
    Finally, Spiral and Ripple came out of the tree, seating themselves in the gap made by the others, in a slightly higher and more visible spot. The other villagers turned to look at them as they arrived. The huge, unfinished basket was set before Ripple. Clearly, he was the guest of honor. Spiral beckoned Juna over to sit with them.
    If this was a celebration of Ripple’s recovery, it must be an important event. The entire village was present, almost eighty adults, with a dozen or so workers busy serving them. Brilliant patterns flickered over the aliens’ skins—blues, greens, and softer pastels occasionally muted with grey.
    Something strange was going on. Ripple wasn’t eating. Spiral seemed withdrawn and remote, picking at its food, despite Ripple’s obvious en-joinders to eat. Though they were guests of honor, neither of them seemed very happy.
    After the aliens were sated and the workers had cleared away the remains of the feast, Ripple rose and addressed the assembled villagers. The brilliant, flowing patterns were extremely lovely, even though Juna couldn’t understand any of it.
    When Ripple finished speaking, each of the decorated aliens stood up and addressed the gathering, then came forward and laid its decorations in the large basket in front of Ripple. Halfway through the speeches a soft rain began falling. The aliens ignored the rain and went on speaking.
    The speeches went on for most of the afternoon. Juna sat there, warm rain drumming on her naked skin, bored out of her skull by the endless, incomprehensible ceremony.
    At last every decorated alien had spoken. Ripple rose again, beckoning Spiral to its side. Another speech ensued as Juna sat shivering in the rain. Then Juna was summoned forward and displayed to the assembled audience. When the speech was over, Ripple walked out onto a high branch and jumped off. Juna heard a distant, wet thud as the alien’s body struck the forest floor far below.
    Numbed by hours of boredom, Juna stared at the spot where Ripple had stood, unable to believe what she’d just witnessed. She peered down at the distant forest floor. Ripple’s mangled body lay there, a bright splash of red beneath it, its limbs twisted, its head at an impossible angle. Swallowing hard, Juna looked away. Spiral sat hunched and grey beside her. The other aliens sat, watching Spiral expectantly, ignoring Ripple’s fallen body.
    After