“Your Epuuc does not rule the clutch or what it feels. My pain is my own. I feel for the clutch and the clutch feels for me. That is simply it. There is no other than the clutch.”
Back on the Youngstown, I read the field reports. The clutch was more than family and friends. It extended beyond the local nuclear family. It was beyond the definition of social, casual, and intimate love. Clutch held an amalgam of deep interactions.
One’s clutch held not only brothers and sisters, but also fathers and mothers. It held parents, uncles, aunts, and cousins of all sorts. It also held more than familial members. A clutch could also contain the children you grew up with outside of the family.
The clutch also held lovers, past and present. It held people together beyond feeling and ego. Clutchmates were bonded for life even though their relationships changed over time. It was a mind-boggling net of connections. To my knowledge, there were no foreign clutchmates. We were not close enough to be included in the defining qualities of clutch.
“But,” I blurted as her boots scraped against the flooring, “Epuuc is clutch to me.” She stopped and looked back with hardened eyes.
“What is Epuuc to the air?” she asked. “What is Epuuc to the earth, and water? Does Epuuc consider his clutch before all others?”
“He is love and desire.” I fumbled with the words. I knew she understood love. I saw it in her eyes and the way she looked at me.
“Is that all?” She was waiting for the answer. “What does Epuuc know of the fire that burns slowly, but cold? What of the invisible storms?”
The field reports didn’t cover anything about invisible storms or cold fire. Her metaphors were lost on me.
“But, what I’m speaking about is beyond what is front of you physically. It’s a feeling that comes from deep within. It isn’t tangible. You cannot touch it.” I patted the cavern floor.
“Then it isn’t clutch and has no place here.” She turned from me and walked towards the others who were gathered around the firelight. I stood, confused at the conversation. There was obviously something I was missing.
I followed her lead and joined the others as well. Her smile was back in place. Some of the other natives nodded to me, I nodded back and found a spot where I could just gaze into the fire. There was something about that word that meant more than I was meant to understand.
The fire danced for me, drawing me into the flickering. The embers lit to a smoldering red as the slight breeze came in from the cave entrance. I sat in the group and contemplated clutch. Some of them were clutchmates, many were not though. These were my fellow crew from the Youngstown. They were my comrades, brothers-in-arms.
The word meant more though. It was some sort of intrinsic connection. All I could do is sit and hope the mystical meaning would come to me as I sat by the flame.
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