IV
She arrived at the river as the sun was beginning to melt into the far earth, spreading itself in a thin line of light where they touched. As the serpent had predicted, Adam was still engrossed in his work. The beach was covered in his footprints, and he was covered in sand though he did not seem to notice or care.
When he spotted her, Adam’s slim face brightened, and he waved her over to him. Isha paused on the far bank to uproot the plants the serpent had suggested to her, tall red reeds rising up amidst emerald leaves and covered in purple buds, before wading across the river to him. Adam helped her out of the water and hugged her, not caring how wet she was. “Isha! Come and see. These crabs are fascinating creatures! They have stone hands with only two fingers and they pinch things between them. Come and watch!”
Isha smiled, already catching his enthusiasm, and offered him the leafy stalks. “May we eat, first?”
Adam’s face was blank a moment, having truly forgotten his needs. Then he laughed and kissed her forehead. “We may eat while we watch them. They are rather sedentary creatures, after all.” And so they passed the last moments of the evening, Adam explaining to her all he had discovered about his newest discovery, the crab, while Isha settled against him and listened peacefully to his good-natured lecturing until they both fell asleep.
V
Adam thought nothing of her decision to explore the far bank once again. He was tempted to follow, but at last chose to remain where he was and finish cataloguing the animals there. He had not yet begun to Name the birds that dipped their long beaks into the water, scooping up water and bits of algae to sup on. As this clearly needed to be done before he could allow himself to go sight-seeing, he hugged Isha good-bye and let her cross the river alone.
She wondered at first how to find her way back, but she was an observant creature, and she soon recognized the path she had taken the day before. This time her feet had a purpose, however, and so she did not spend nearly so much time wandering hither and thither. She was again reassured as she felt the same, odd shift in her perceptions that indicated she was slowly going uphill. With this she relaxed, certain now that she was going the right way, and took time to look more closely at the forest itself. Though it was obviously a forest like that she was familiar with, it was still radically dissimilar. Even the shapes of the leaves were different. The animals skittering between branches or burrowing below fallen logs were unfamiliar, though she could see similarities between the parrot and the bright red bird preening on a high branch, its head topped by a red crown. Both such bright birds! She would have to make sure Adam saw this red creature, so he could give it an honorable, fitting name. She had to admit, it made sweeter noises than the parrot did. She made comparisons everywhere, some favorable and some disappointed, but she enjoyed the physical and mental exercise. Almost too soon she reached the central clearing, but her face lit once more to see the great Tree, and the unmistakable silhouette of the serpent dangling amidst its branches.
Isha strolled toward him, eyes bright. “Good morning, Brother Serpent.”
“Good morning, Isha,” replied the lengthy beast, eyes slit as he soaked in the day’s sunlight. He appeared to have draped himself intentionally across the outermost branches, the better to allow light to fall upon every inch of him. He dozed, not displeased to see her, but not willing to ruin his noon nap, either.
Isha waited expectantly for him to say more… and waited… until finally her shoulders slumped in disappointment. She had been so very happy the day before. No one had ever conversed with her in such a way as the serpent had. She was not sure either man in her life was capable of such a conversation, something that did not concerns virtues or animal behavior. Adam was her teacher. God was her Lord. Neither of them were interested in speaking in friendly tones, sharing small details about what made their lives so interesting. But she sensed something different in the serpent; she had perceived a deeper interest for her within it, and she was heartbroken to be so easily put aside. She turned away and prepared to make the long walk back down the slope, where she might sample more of the river’s vegetation. Hopefully Adam would not mind.
“Where art thou going, wife of Adam? I have been looking forward to our visssit.”
Happily, she ran back to him. “I thought thou wer’t sleeping.”
“I am awake now.” To demonstrate, he uncoiled himself and performed the reptilian equivalent of a stretch, sliding to the ground and pooling himself amidst the raised roots. “Tell me. How did the man like his dinner lassst night?”
A new smile broke across her face. “He enjoyed it! And thought me most clever for finding them on the far side of the river.”
“Did he, now?” mused the serpent, resting its head upon a root so he could look at her directly. “And what do you think of it?”
“Well, I—“ Isha paused. “It wasn’t really I that was clever… Thou suggested it.”
This pleased the serpent. “An honessst anssswer.”
Isha sat on a root opposite him, resting her elbows on her knees. “I suppose I just wanted to feel… like I knew as much as he does, for once.”
“Than Adam?”
“Yes. Adam knows so much,” she sighed, partly from pride and partly from resignation. “He knows the Names of all the creatures in the Garden, and he bestows Names on those he does not know. He is beloved by God, as the first man. I am always learning from him.”
“From God?”
“From Adam. And God!” This talking was harder than she had anticipated. Isha hugged her arms about herself and thought, trying to puzzle out why it was that what she thought and what she said did not always sound the same, why she felt she could not—or should not—say out loud what she opined internally. The first luster was wearing off her new skill.
“Isha,” said the serpent, slowly moving forward until its bumpy neck brushed against the skin of her knee and his face rose to meet hers. “Have you ever wondered why it isss that God and Adam hold ssso much knowledge? And you do not?”
She opened her mouth to answer and then promptly closed it. “No. No, I haven’t.”
The serpent nodded sagely, as though this explained everything. “I sssee, I sssee. Poor girl-child…” He paused, and then slid behind and around her, his long form sliding alongside her legs and hips until he had come back around to face her. She blinked back at him, not comprehending. “Isha, would you like to know as much as God or Adam? Really know?”
At first her hands flew open in delight at the prospect—then she reconsidered. “But if I were wise as God or Adam… what would their roles then be? Who would proclaim what is right and moral? Who would Name the creatures? Who would fashion new men and beasts?” The idea baffled her, made her question—
Apologetically, the serpent used one of its feeble, spindly arms to bring her hand to his face and dart his questing tongue across her palm. “I am sssorry, Isha. I’ve taxssed your poor mind. Do not think of it again.” He dropped her hand.
She was truly distressed now. “But—“
“Not another word,” insisted the serpent in the kindest way possibly. “It isss better you not worry about it. Or with anything today. It is my fault, after all.” The reptile unwound himself from the human woman, who looked on, completely bewildered. He rose back among the limbs of the tree, little hands gripping at minute inconsistencies in the wood. With expert ease, the end of his long tale curved around the stem connecting one luscious, plump fruit to its mothering tree, and squeezed. “Catch it, Isha!” She barely darted forward in time to keep the fruit from smashing all over the roots that had supplied it with nutrients bare moments before.
Utterly confused now, she looked to the serpent for an explanation. “Brother Serpent?”
If reptiles could laugh, this one surely did, its long body shaking with each chuckle. “Take it back to your husband, Isha. Let him taste of the fruit… and make sure you taste of it as well.”
The fruit was heavy in her hands, hard and thin-skinned, not like the oranges or bananas she peeled to unearth soft flesh. The smell she had caught on the breeze the day before wafted toward her sensitive nose: sweet, slightly tart, and hinting of fresh sunlight and light rain. Her mouth began to water.
“Don’t sssit here and drool over it,” insisted the amused serpent. “Take it home. Share it with thine man. And then… we shall sssee.”
Isha smiled at him, for the gift she could not attain on her own. “Thank you, Brother Serpent. I shall see thee again tomorrow.” She wobbled to her feet and returned to the clearest way down the hillside.
The serpent watched her go, and then resumed its drape across the mighty Tree’s branches, the better to sunbathe and warm its cold bones.