by Sharon Sala
Nona clutched Tyhen’s hand like it was a lifeline and even managed a smile as they walked out.
When Yuma saw Tyhen coming out with another woman, he caught her eye, then followed them back to the others without intruding. It wasn’t until they parted company that he caught up with Tyhen.
“Everything okay?”
She nodded. “Just a moment of grief. Something I’m sure we’re all feeling.”
Yuma cupped her face, and the moment they touched, she felt his love flow through her. She watched his dark eyes narrow as a small frown appeared between his brows.
“Remember, when you need, I will cry with you,” he said softly.
She sighed. “I love you with all that I am.”
He grinned to alleviate the seriousness of the moment. “And you will love me forever.”
She smiled and then doubled up her fist and punched him lightly on the shoulder. “You should not boast.”
He laughed, and then took her hand. “Come walk with me. The people need to see your smile.”
Wisely, he was right. Instead of resting, she ate while she visited with the marchers, sharing their aches, and empathizing with the scope of what they were doing. But as she walked among them, something happened that she had not expected. Their outlook gave her spirit a boost. It was a reminder of how they had accepted their burden to see this through.
Finally, she walked down to the edge of the river to refill her water jug and wash her hands and face. She was on her knees, about to lean over and scoop water up to her face when she heard Yuma shout her name.
She looked up just as the snout of a crocodile surfaced only feet from where she was kneeling. She caught a brief flash of Yuma’s dark hair and long legs and then he was in the water, locked into the croc’s death roll. With one last splash of its tail, the crocodile took them under.
She screamed his name once as she leaped to her feet, then headed for the water with her knife in her hand. All of a sudden there were hands at her waist and then someone was dragging her back and she was screaming.
“Let me go! Let me go! He’s going to die!”
“Stop, Tyhen, stop! You can’t help. Look behind you! This is your responsibility! Yuma knew that when he went into the water. Let it be!”
When she heard Montford Nantay’s words, she knew he was right. The knowledge that she was also a sacrifice for a greater cause was overwhelming. Heart breaking, she slid her knife back in the scabbard and backed away from the river’s edge. At that point, time stopped. She saw nothing and heard nothing but the churning water. Although many people came running from all directions to see what was happening, they were of no use.
Tyhen was helpless. Every power she had was worthless if it could not save Yuma’s life. She could not part the water. She could not stop the crocodile’s heart, and she could not save her man. He was going to have to save himself.
She watched in mute horror as the water churned while the seconds felt like hours. Then suddenly the water turned to blood! When it began spreading across the surface, Tyhen would have fainted but for Montford, who steadied her on her feet.
The blood continued to spread and the water was no longer churning. It was the longest ten seconds in Tyhen’s life before Yuma’s head suddenly broke the surface of the river, and when he took a huge gulp of fresh air, everyone on the shore took a breath with him. The moment he began trying to swim back to shore, Tyhen pulled away from Montford’s grasp and ran into the water after him, followed by a half-dozen men who helped her pull him out.
***
Yuma believed he would die and it didn’t matter. When he’d seen the croc so close to Tyhen’s head, he reacted without thought. Warrior’s Heart, the knife Cayetano had given him, was in his hand before his feet left the ground, and when he hit the water, he landed belly down on the croc’s back. His only thought was to stay away from the crocodile’s mouth and teeth, and immediately wrapped both arms around the body while trying to get a grip strong enough to use his knife.
The moment the croc felt the threat, it went into survival mode, thrashing and rolling while trying to unload the enemy on its back.
Yuma’s first stab with the knife was futile. The hide was like armor, and once the croc pulled him under, he was fighting blind. Their fight had muddied the water to the point that he could not see where to strike. He just knew he could not let go. The first time the blade hit the soft flesh of the underbelly, he heard Adam’s voice.
Again. Do it again.
So he did, stabbing and slashing, over and over, until he realized the crocodile was sinking and taking him with it.
Let go and swim up. Do it now!
Yuma didn’t know what was up and what was down, so when he pushed off and began to swim, he could only hope it was in the right direction because he was out of air.
When he broke the surface and took a first desperate breath, he was only seconds from passing out. He kept gasping and blinking, trying to clear his vision and get enough oxygen in his lungs to move. Everything was a blur until he turned toward shore. He recognized Tyhen by her height and dark hair, and the fact that she was running into the water after him. He didn’t remember swimming, only that he felt her hands pulling him toward shore.
When they finally pulled him to dry land, he was belly down, but the moment they turned him loose, Tyhen rolled him over onto his back.
“Breathe, Yuma, breathe!” she kept saying.
He was doing his best, still gasping for air, too exhausted to speak. His eyes were closed and he didn’t know until she took it from him that he was still gripping the knife he’d used for the kill.
The moment Tyhen saw the deep, bloody scratch down the middle of his chest, she groaned.
“He’s been hurt,” she said and looked over her shoulder at the gathering crowd. “Someone bring medicine.”
A healer quickly came forward, holding a small bag with medicines.
“Let me, little Dove,” the man said and began cleaning the wound. When he was satisfied he’d removed all the debris, he spread an ointment down the length of the cut.
Tyhen was on her knees at his side, unaware she was crying. She was angry with herself, for the carelessness that had nearly gotten him killed. She might be Windwalker’s daughter, but living in the palace under guard had left her naïve to the jungle’s dangers.
As soon as the people realized Yuma was going to be all right, they began to disperse.
Montford touched Tyhen’s shoulder.
She looked up.
“Do you have more need of me?” he asked.
“Not now,” she said.
He nodded and started to walk away when she called him back. “Montford?”
He turned.
“Thank you,” she said.
He smiled and nodded.
They had weathered their first danger on the first day of the journey and everyone was still breathing. Today she would ask for nothing more.
Then she felt Yuma’s hand on her arm and her focus shifted. His eyes were open and he was looking at her.
“You saved my life,” Tyhen said softly.
He wiped a shaky hand across his face. “When I saw that crocodile surface only feet away from your head, you took a year off of mine.”
She laid a hand on his chest, taking heart that she could still feel the blood coursing through his body.
“I am not wise in the ways I should be. I have been too sheltered.”
“This trip will make you tough and wise. If I live long enough,” he added and managed a weak grin.
She rocked back on her heels. “You are making a joke? I was afraid that you would die because of me and you are making a joke?”
He heard the anger in her voice. “Is this then one of those times when you want me to cry with you?”
She frowned. “No, but—�
�
“Then will you laugh with me, instead?” he countered.
She stood, towering over him with her hands on her hips, her dark eyes glaring. “You make me crazy.”
Yuma slid his knife back into the scabbard then held out his hand. “Help me up.”
“I should let you lie where I dropped you,” she muttered.
“But you won’t because you love me and because it would appear to those around us that you do not appreciate your life enough to thank me for saving it.”
Stunned into momentary silence, she sighed then thrust out her hand. When he clasped it, she pulled him up.
Now that he was standing before her with the blood still seeping from the wound upon his chest, she turned her back to the people around them and closed her eyes.
Yuma saw the tears seeping out from beneath her dark lashes and said nothing, but when she reached blindly for his hand, he took it and lifted it to his lips.
Tyhen felt the kiss, and at the same time felt the rapid race of his heartbeat. She’d scared him, too.
“I am so sorry,” she said softly.
“Don’t cry,” he whispered. “You know how that hurts my heart.”
She looked up at him through tears and then quickly wiped them away. “Come sit with me. We will rest a little more before we leave this place.”
He let her lead him through the crowd, accepting their praise without anything more than a nod or a smile. He hadn’t done it for praise. He’d done it for her.
Brother. Are you okay?
Hearing Adam’s voice was almost as good as having the twins with them.
Yes. Thanks to you, I am okay.
I only said what you needed to hear. I did not fight that beast. That was you. You are the hero, the Eagle who protects the Dove.
***
Naaki Chava was so silent it already felt dead. Ever since Tyhen and the New Ones’ departure that morning, the people stayed close to their homes. The marketplace had not opened and the few people who’d come out moved through the streets as if they were doing something wrong.
Singing Bird heard the servants talking, but she paid them no mind. There were things that had to be done. There was food ready to harvest that needed to be gathered. There was maize stored for grinding, and corn drying as well. Both had to be ground for flour, and many tasks to ready for their own exit from the city. She set people at those tasks and then began sorting through the things in the palace kitchen. They didn’t need gold or silver to serve their food and began packing only the necessary things to cook with, leaving everything ornate and ceremonial behind.
She saw the twins only a short time after their midday meal and asked one question. “Are they well?”
They nodded, purposefully omitting the fact her daughter had come close to being croc bait the first day.
“Good. When you dream of the mountain again, you will tell me.”
That was no question; it was an order, and they quickly nodded again. After that she was gone.
Cayetano was on his own quest to getting ready. He had copies of the maps the New Ones had given him relating to where they were now, and how far they would travel to reach what had been labeled on the map as South America. He didn’t know the words or what they meant, only that it was a destination they needed to reach.
He ordered the cart makers to make new carts so the people would have a way to take what they needed with them and had his warriors repairing any of the weapons that needed care. They were leaving familiar territory, and even though the word had spread that tribes were not to war with each other or take prisoners and turn them into slaves, there was no way to assume that would be honored.
The New Ones who’d stayed behind were making sure to leave room in their carts for needed building tools as well as the books Singing Bird had made. Some of the people were busy building little cages to take their chickens the traders had introduced in the city. No one wanted to leave them behind. While the sun was still new, they began killing the tapirs they were raising, which moved to the arduous task of smoking all the meat so it would not spoil on their long trek to a new location. It was serious business quitting home, even if the mountain above them was an enemy they could not defeat.
By the time the sun was setting and the torches were being lit, they’d put a good dent into the big job that lay ahead.
Cayetano walked into their room just after sunset and found Singing Bird sitting on a bench beneath one of the burning lights. Tiny winged insects were flying around the fire, drawn to the light in spite of the flame.
She was doing something with leather that he’d never seen her do before and slid onto the bench beside her to watch.
“What is this you do?” he asked.
“I am making moccasins. They will protect our feet far better than the sandals.”
“In the jungle, we have no need of this,” Cayetano said.
“That is here. Do we know what the land is like where we go? Do we know if there are thorns growing on the ground? Do we know if the rocks are so sharp they’ll cut our feet?”
“No.”
“Then I am preparing for the unknown,” she said softly and knelt at his feet to test the size of the ones she was making against the size of his foot. “Good. It will fit.”
“How do you know to do this?” he asked.
“Layla Birdsong’s grandmother taught her.”
He thought about frowning at the mention of the past and then changed his mind and touched the supple feel of the tanned skin instead.
“This is soft,” he said.
“But strong, very strong,” she added.
He smiled then pulled her up from the floor and into his lap. “Do we have food to eat here?”
She pointed to the table.
“Do you want to eat now or after we make love?”
She stood up, untied the shift she was wearing and let it fall around her feet.
Cayetano grunted, and then picked her up and carried her to their bed.
***
Adam and Evan were at a loss. They felt the absence of Yuma and Tyhen as physically as if they’d been punched.
“Brother, do you hurt in your chest?” Evan asked.
“Yes,” Adam said and rubbed it with the flat of his hand as he looked away.
All of their lives, the only bond they had was to each other, and neither of them had ever lost someone they cared for until now, so feeling emotion was as uncomfortable as a sharp pebble beneath their feet.
Evan was uneasy. “What do you think is wrong? Do you think we are becoming ill? Do you think that we might die?”
Adam sighed. “Nothing is wrong. I think we are sad.”
Evan’s eyes widened. “We don’t do sad.”
Adam glanced at him and then picked up a banana. “Maybe we never had anyone to feel sad about before.”
“I don’t like sad,” Evan said.
Adam sighed. “I don’t either, but I think Yuma and Tyhen feel the same way, so we should not complain.”
Evan took the banana from his brother’s hand, peeled it, broke it in half, and gave one piece to Adam. Contemplating sad made him hungry.
Chapter Thirteen
Yuma had no idea how far they’d walked their first day, but by the time they reached a place safe enough for such a large group to gather and bed down, people were so tired they weren’t talking. When their little shelters went up, the place looked like a miniature city. Some built fires to cook flat bread on hot rocks while others chose to eat from the food that they’d packed. The New Ones had already organized a guarding system into shifts, and while the majority of the people finally crawled into their tents to sleep, others stood guard around the perimeter. Whether it was a hungry jaguar, or an outlaw tribe out looking for trouble, they would be ready.
Tyhen watched several peo
ple putting up their tents and then pulled theirs out of the pack and set it up by herself. Soon, she had a fire going, too. It wasn’t cold, but the fire kept insects and predators at bay, not to mention the dark. The moon was new, barely a sliver in the sky and shedding next to no light on the world below.
Hearing jungle sounds around Naaki Chava at night had been common, but they’d always had the protection of the city and their numbers for safety. Now the screams of big cats on the hunt and the death squeals of their prey were unnerving. The only things they still had going for them were their vast numbers and the guards.
Tyhen stood at the edge of their fire and looked out across the area. She had wondered why the New Ones had purposefully moved her and Yuma to the middle of the encampment, but now she could see why. They had all put themselves at risk to keep her safe. Protect her at all cost or this journey was for nothing.
She caught movement from the corner of her eye and saw Yuma heading straight toward her. She couldn’t imagine how he had found her when everything looked alike, but she was glad he was back. She didn’t know he’d only been a few tents away and had eyes on her the entire time.
Upon arrival, he eyed the tent, the fire, and then her.
She stood a little straighter as if waiting for judgment.
He smiled at her and she started talking too fast because she was afraid it was all wrong, but hoping she’d done a good job.
“Yes, I did all this by myself. I’m ignorant of the jungle, but I’m not helpless. Come sit with me by the fire or the mosquitoes will bite.”
“Shirley Nantay sent you fresh bread,” he said and handed her a piece.
She took a quick bite, grateful for the warm food as she eyed the cut down the middle of his chest.
“Does that hurt?” she asked.
“Not much.”
Her hands were shaking as she handed him a piece of jerky and a banana, then took another bite of the bread.
“How about you?” he asked. “How do you feel after a day like today?”
When she looked up him over the fire, the blaze reflected in her eyes, and for a few seconds he thought of Firewalker and how far he’d come from Tahlequah, Oklahoma.
