"YOU ARE HERE"

 an ancient Earthling mantra from the Golden Age

They reached The Stump later that morning. Carrying Jezabel in one arm, 402 entered a grove of large elm trees. In the middle of the grove, a particularly large and old tree had been cut down, leaving behind a flat stump two meters wide. Light passed through the canopy in warm patches. The ground was covered in footprints leading in every direction, including the prints of large cats. Jezabel looked around with bleary eyes.

402 set her on the ground and silently waited. The child stepped forward and looked at the stump more carefully.

“That must have been a big tree.”

“It was an old tree.”

Jezabel looked closer. The flat surface was covered with deep scratches. Bits of stuff had been pressed into the scratches. The stuff included seeds and dirt and even pebbles. “What is it, Six?”

“That is a map. You will read it.”

The scratches didn't look like a map to Jezabel. They were all arranged randomly like a scribble. “I don't see a map.”

“Irrelevant, you are not required to see it. You are required to smell the map.”

“Huh?” Jezabel looked over her shoulder at the robot puzzled.

“The maps you know were created by Humans and for Humans who are visual creatures. Other species rely on different senses to navigate.”

“Like bloodhounds?”

“Yes, the Reptilian Raiders are descended from species who tracked their prey using scents. The map-making species with the most acute sense of smell are either Reptilian Raiders or Dru. You will be able to read the map with your nose. I am not capable.”

“I – I don't know how.”

“Climb onto the stump and close your eyes.”

Jezabel climbed up with little difficulty. She closed her eyes obediently. “There's a lot of smells here.”

“Begin in the center of the rings. That should resonate with our current location.”

Jezabel crawled to the middle of the stump and lowered her pointed nose to the wood. She sniffed. “It's just wood.”

402 instructed, “Move outward slowly. Tell me what you smell.”

Jesabel tried another sniff a few centimeters to one side. “It smells eggy.”

“What else do you smell?”

“I don't know. Flowers. Daisies?”

“Those smells correspond to the nest of the Creepers and the surrounding wildflowers. That is the location from which we came. Try another direction.”

“Honey. I smell honey.”

“Keep going.”

“Something smells musky here.”

“There will be other smells accompanying that.”

“It smells – I think it smells like cat pee.”

“Is it from a trap cat?”

“I don't know. I just smell hair and cat pee.”

402 stepped closer to look for itself. “That hair is black. It did come from a feline but not a trap cat. That hair must mark the territory of a displacer beast, a superior predator. A trap cat will not enter that territory. Gorgon is traveling with a trap cat, so he went in a different direction.”

Jezabel took a deep whiff. “Ew, this smells like poop.”

402 asked, “From what species did the poop originate?”

“I don't know. How would I know?”

“Can you identify what foods the animal ate before it generated the poop.”

“Umm, apples maybe.”

“A horse ranch must be located nearby. Gorgon would not go there unless he was traveling with a large raiding party. The Reptilian Raiders have simply marked that location for use later. Try again.”

“This part smells fishy. Fish and berries.”

“Food is plentiful in that direction. Continue analysis.”

“A little bit farther, this smells like oil and feathers.”

“Relevant, in the language of Reptilian Raiders, their word for oil is the same a breach. I theorize that this is how they designate the location of a breach, and the target has motive to visit one. That is the most likely direction that the target traveled.”

“I smelled feathers. Do birds live there?”

“Irrelevant, the Reptilian Raiders do not care about birds. In their society, feathers are a symbol of cowardice.”

“Like a chicken?”

“Your analysis is partially correct. A Reptilian Raider would think that a coward acts like a chicken. That feather, however, does not belong to a chicken.”

Jezabel crawled on all fours towards the edge of the stump. “Then what?”

402 helped her to the ground. Then, it picked up a piece of feather which had been wedged into a crack in The Stump. The feather looked dark green and iridescent. He told her, “Not chicken.”