by Sandra Lang
The salt water stings my eyes as the cold begins to numb my limbs. The harder I try to reach the surface, the harder it is to move. I cannot give up even though it would be so very easy. I reach up to the sky in a last ditch effort to grab onto anything solid. Anything will do at this point, I tell myself, encouraging myself to keep trying. My strength begins to dwindle. I cannot reach the top.
Light filters down through the surface, casting a serene light around me as I am drowning. All I can think of are the words my father said to me before I left my home four summers ago.
“The ocean up here is always cold, little one,” he said with a slight quiver in his voice. “When you fall in, and I know you will, do not struggle. You will only make yourself tired. Gently move your arms and legs, like you are dancing with the water, not fighting against it. Place one hand above the other, move your legs. Do not give up, no matter how easy it would be. Do not panic when your lungs begin to burn. Just keep moving toward the surface. Let the light guide you.”
I still my panicking mind and listen again to the words as they play in my ears like a whisper. My arms and legs move of their own volition, stopping my sinking body and moving me up toward the sun. The cold no longer makes me shiver, which scares me more than the thought of not reaching the surface. I keep stretching out my arms, pulling my hands downward with my palms open.
My head breaks the surface and I gasp for air. The sweet, salty air fills my lungs. Hands are suddenly on me, gripping at my neck and jaw forcing me upward still.
“Are you okay?” His words sound strange in my ears. I nod in response. “We need to get you to shore. Can you swim?” He gestures toward the bobbing canoe a few yards away. My lack of response gives him his answer and he puts his arm around my waist and pulls me along.
Once at the canoe he hoists my arms up over the side to prevent me from sinking again. I wait for him to get in and pull me in beside him. He wraps his arms around me and holds me close to him. I blink my eyes to wash the salt from them. Tarok’s face emerges from the blur. Concern has control of his features, the fright of death clinging to him. Callused fingers brush the hair from my face with a tenderness unbefitting of the hardened warrior. No words are spoken. Only peaceful silence is shared between us. His fingers lightly touch along my jaw before settling at my chin. He leans closer until I can feel his breath whisper across my lips.
“I was afraid I had lost you,” he says quietly.
Even in the haze of my mind, I can feel the wrongness of our situation. I want nothing more than for him to close the distance between us or that I could be the brave one and do what I have wanted for a long time now. I want this. I want him. But more importantly I want him to want me in return. Something I know – something I feel – deep down inside of me is not written in the stars as it ought to be. Every instinct screams at me to take the chance now that it has been offered to me.
As I lay on my back on the bottom of the canoe, I can see the fear in his eyes reflecting the fear in mine. A brush with death often brings out the desperation a person feels. None of this is real. The anger and confusion we feel simmers just below the surface, waiting for the right moment to emerge. This moment is not real.
“The rains are coming. We need to get to shore.” I say; the broiling turmoil I feel inside echoing within the winds. I watch as Tarok comes back to himself, drawn out of his thoughts and back to the harsh reality in which we live.
Tarok looks out toward the ocean surrounding us. “How can you tell?”
“I can feel it, just trust me.”
He nods but gives me a querying look. He rights himself and once again the paddle dips into the water to propel us forward. Instead of trying to follow the boats that are no longer in sight, we make our way to the shoreline off in the distance.
By the time we reach the shore, the waves have grown larger and the winds begin to howl. The limbs of the trees snap violently. Tarok fights to keep us from getting too close to the rocky shore even though it is a losing battle.
“Do you see sand?” he shouts over the wind.
I peer over the bow of the canoe and nod. “There is a small, narrow strip of sand to the right.”
He turns around and then begins to turn the canoe around.
“What are you doing?”
He glances at me over his shoulder before continuing to paddle. “I am bringing us into the shore before the storm hits.”
The waves toss us around and push the canoe into the shore. Tarok jumps out and pulls the canoe onto the sand. I hand him the bag from the bottom of the canoe and step out myself. He slings the bag over his shoulder.
“We will not outrun it,” I say looking up at the darkened sky.
“We do not have to. We just have to find a place to wait out the storm.” He beckons me to follow him into the forest.
Night falls quickly and we are left in the dark of the storm. Clouds cover what little sky we can see through the tree tops. My eyes strain to keep sight of Tarok a mere few feet in front of me. My clothes are nearly dry when the rain begins to fall, soaking both of us once again. I groan inwardly and curse every spirit that could have brought this misfortune upon us. We walk until I am sure that my legs are going to give out from pure exhaustion.
“I think I see a cave up ahead,” Tarok calls to me over the crashing thunder.
I do not respond. I just place my hand onto his back to let him know I am still here.
We enter the cave and there is no telling how far back it goes in the blackness. Tarok manages to light a small fire that dimly brightens the mouth. The rain cannot get to us where we sit, but that is the least of my worries.
“Do you think something lives in here?” I ask, keeping a wary eye on the back of the cave.
“Probably.”
“Will it come out?”
“Unlikely. The fire alone should keep it away. With the rain, though, I do not think anything is eager to go out.”
The sentiment does little to comfort me.
“We should get out of our wet clothes. Catching a cold out here will not help us any.”
Before I can protest, he pulls two blankets from the bag. He hands one to me and turns away. I take off my wet outer clothes and lay them near the fire. I doubt they will dry anytime soon or even by morning, but I would rather have semi-dry clothes than wet ones. I wrap the blanket tightly around myself and turn away so Tarok can do the same. He lets me know when I can turn back toward the fire. I sit next to it and wrap the blanket tighter around myself.
“Do you want to know the first words of every person at the Summit?” I say, stretching my hands out to the small fire.
“What did they say?” says Tarok.
“They asked if I was with child yet.” Our eyes meet. Silence pervades.
“Why did you decide to leave?”
Do you want the honest truth or the lie? I ask myself silently. To tell him the truth is to admit I left for reasons other than my sense of duty to the tribe. To lie to him is to further lie to myself. “I left because I was not wanted in the tribe,” I say quietly.
“Unwelcome in the tribe?” Tarok says with a disappointed look on his face.
“I am an outcast in our tribe.”
“No one in the tribe thinks that.”
“You would never see that, Tarok, because you belong. You never saw them pushing their children away when I passed. You never saw them give me a look that said I do not belong.” I avert my eyes from his face and watch the flames dance and lick the air. “Wise Women are smart and can feel the air as the Shaman can. They can see the hidden thoughts a person has just by reading their face. The Wise Women knew I was angry and broken back then. They knew it was because of many things, but above all else, they knew it was from a broken heart. That is why they would ask if I was with child. They saw you keeping a close eye on me and assumed that you were the one who had caused me to run away. In a way, you were. But I needed somewhere I could belong and I-”
“And you found that with his p
eople,” Tarok interrupts. The way he says it sets fire to my spirit.
“Why do you even care if I found a home with his people? It does not really matter where I am anyway!” I shout. I quickly clamp my mouth shut and hope he does not read too much into my words.
“I care about everyone in my tribe.”
“You care only to keep the Wise Woman with a tribe full of malice and hatred.”
“That is not true, Akari.”
“Is it not though? I was gone for four summers and no one thought to come looking for me? No one was concerned that I may be dead?”
“Of course your family was concerned. Why would they not be?”
“I am not talking about them, Tarok. Was anyone concerned? Did you even notice I was gone?”
“We all noticed. Believe it or not, the tribe does concern itself with the well-being of all members.”
“Noticed that the strange girl with light skin and blue eyes was gone. Noticed for about a season before giving me up for dead. Do not think I did not notice the surprise when I came home.”
“You were gone for a long time, Akari. Why would we not be surprised?”
“Because no one thought I would return. I could not return now and no one would think twice about it.”
“If you want to leave us so badly, then who am I to stop you? I am not your bond-mate or your intended.”
“You cannot see it, can you?”
“Cannot see what? Cannot see the way you look at me? Because I can see it, Akari. I can see it clear as day. Nothing can come of it, though. I thought you understood that.”
Silence lapses. There is your answer, Akari, my inner voice says. Now you know.
“It does not matter who I want to be bonded to. I am not given a choice. Chiefs cannot bond for love. The Matrons choose who shares my bed, not me.”
From the way he avoids my eyes and hangs his head, I finally understand. “They chose Namira.”
“Do you regret coming home?”
“Every day.”
He sighs from my disappointing answer. “You should get some sleep. I will keep watch.”
“You said there was not anything to worry about.”
“I have to keep the fire going.”
I nod then lay down onto the cold floor and curl into myself. With the blanket wrapped tightly around me I close my eyes. Maybe tomorrow will be better. I steady my breathing and try to fall asleep.
Just as I begin to fall into the realm of dreams, I hear Tarok’s voice cut through the darkness. “Maybe it would have been better if you had stayed away.”
I silently agree with him and fall asleep.
