by Sharon Sala
Montford, Johnston, and Shirley locked hands and started across to show the others the path to take. There would be no wandering up or downstream in a hurry to get more across. Just three at a time and three behind, keeping a steady line moving through the cold, running water.
A few of the younger men armed themselves and crossed next so they could stand watch for crocodiles at the crossing, while another group armed in the same manner stayed behind for the same purpose.
Yuma, Tyhen, and an older man crossed next.
Tyhen flinched as she stepped in. The water was swift and cold, flowing immediately over the tops of her moccasins and up to her thighs. But they kept their footing and quickly got across. When they reached the other side, the first thing Tyhen did was take off her moccasins and dump out the water before putting them back on. They would dry on her feet and it wouldn’t matter.
Once the people saw what was expected of them, they quickly organized and moved down the slope, stepping into the water without hesitation.
But now that they were finally crossing, the urge to get to the other side caused some to panic, and the rush to get in and out made them careless. More than once they were cautioned by guards to slow down.
More than half of the people had already crossed when a man and wife stepped into the water with their young son between them. The boy was twelve, but small for his age, and when he suddenly slipped and went under, the mother panicked, lost her grip, and began screaming. Before disaster could strike, the father yanked the boy back up and then glared at his wife.
“I know you were scared, but the scream did not help. Next time, don’t turn loose,” he said loudly.
Shaken, she could only nod.
Tyhen frowned, thinking his words were harsh. She understood a mother’s fear.
But Yuma had seen Tyhen’s expression of disapproval and leaned forward, speaking softly in her ear.
“His words reflect the greater fear. He doesn’t want to lose either of them and yet it could have happened in a heartbeat.”
And just like that, she understood that the father’s fears had made his words too loud, and that he’d said them out of love, desperate to make them understand this was not an ordinary walk. Yesterday life had ended for many of them. He didn’t want his family to be next.
She glanced up at Yuma. The sunlight was behind him, making his skin appear to glow, but she could still see his dark eyes searching her face, always watching, making sure there was no misunderstanding.
She nodded and held out her hand. He pulled her up then stole a quick kiss that made her smile. But the smile quickly ended when she looked back to the west. The sky was getting dark. Rain was coming, which would make the water deeper and swifter, which would make crossing dangerous; maybe too dangerous. The last thing they needed was to become separated.
She pointed behind him.
“Rain comes. They have to hurry.”
“Don’t move,” he said quickly and headed toward the river at a lope. As soon as he reached the shore, he shouted to the people on the other side.
“Rain is coming. The water will become too deep to cross. Move faster.”
All of a sudden the crossing took on a whole other meaning. Being separated would become a nightmare. And to make matters worse, a guard had just spied their first crocodile coming downstream.
“Crocodile!” he shouted, pointing toward the long, knobby snout barely visible above the water.
The ones who’d been about to step into the water ran back up onto the bank, while the others still in the water began to run, stumbling, some falling, all of them in unspoken panic to get to the other side.
The men with spears ran quickly upstream in an effort to kill it before it reached the crossing, and when they did, the crocodile submerged. Now that they could no longer see it, they had no way to know where it was. Was it swimming downstream or waiting beneath for the next person to cross?
Yuma was on the shore with his spear, scanning the swiftly moving water for signs.
“He’ll have to surface somewhere. Watch for it,” he yelled.
The people were now split in half, each bordering one side of the river as the thunderstorm came closer. One minute passed into another and then another and finally the croc came up, forced to surface to breathe.
The moment it appeared, the men began their attack, but they could not throw a spear hard enough from that distance to penetrate the leather-hard hide. One after the other, the spears struck and then bounced off the crocodile’s back and began floating downriver.
One of the guards jumped into the crossing and caught the spears before they could float away while the men were left with using bows and arrows. But the metal-tipped arrows would not pierce the hide either, and a faint rumble of thunder increased the seriousness of the situation.
Tyhen knew what needed to be done. Windwalker had given her gifts for a reason. Just because she hadn’t used them, didn’t mean they wouldn’t work.
She began hearing drumbeats as she slipped through the crowd, and when she grabbed a spear lying on top of someone’s pack, the drums grew louder. She ran out of the crowd and was gone before Yuma even knew she was missing. By the time everyone finally saw her, they knew what she was about to do.
She was little more than a brown flash of arms and legs, running upriver toward the massive croc with a spear in her hands. Her long hair was flying out behind her, her gaze fixed on the croc’s location with sure intent.
Yuma’s heart nearly stopped. Even as he began running after her, he knew he was going to be too late to stop whatever she was about to do.
The drums were so loud when she left the ground that she didn’t hear the people screaming.
No one could jump that high or that far, but she was doing it. She had just made a leap that took her high into the air, soaring twenty yards across the river, clutching the spear with both hands. When she began to come down, she raised the spear as high as it would go, and when her toes touched water, plunged the spear straight through the crocodile’s head, killing it instantly.
They both went under, and seconds later, Tyhen bobbed up as the croc’s body went down. She began swimming toward shore and was almost there when suddenly Yuma was beside her and pulling her out of the water.
He dragged her up on shore and then threw his arms around her without speaking.
She held him because he needed to know she was still breathing.
“I am all right. It had to be done,” she said.
He grabbed a fistful of her hair and then touched his forehead to hers, too moved to speak.
She took his face in her hands, making him focus on her face.
“Yuma... make them finish the crossing. The blood in the water could bring others.”
He gave her a last frantic look, thrust his spear into her hands and ran back.
The crossing resumed, but Tyhen stayed upstream watching just in case.
The people were crossing now in great haste, piling into the water without hesitation, and moving three by three with only a foot of space between them. If one slipped, there were several close enough to pick them up.
It began to rain just as the last ones were to cross. These were the people too injured to walk, the ones they’d been carrying on the travois. At that point, a dozen strong men waded back across to get them. With three men on one side and three on the other, they picked up a travois with an injured traveler still strapped on it and quickly carried him across while the other six carried another one right behind them. They repeated the trip until all nine people had been carried to safety.
Only then did the last guards make the crossing.
At that point, the sky unloaded. Tyhen started back, but the rain was so heavy she could barely make out the people awaiting her arrival.
“It is only rain,” Tyhen shouted. “We were dirty, and n
ow we will be clean. It is good.”
They followed her into the jungle and once they stepped into the heavy growth of trees and vines, they were somewhat sheltered from the downpour by the heavy canopy above. After that they moved as one, their heads down to avoid rain in their faces, following the person ahead of them without looking up.
They were still walking when the rain stopped, and when the sun came out, and the insects followed. They pulled the flat, oily leaves from medicine bushes as they passed by them, crumpled the leaves up in their hands and then wiped them over their bodies. The insects were still there, but they didn’t bite; and the march continued.
When the sun was at its zenith, Yuma called a halt, giving people the opportunity to relieve themselves and have a chance to get some food or medicine from their packs.
Tyhen was peeling the last piece of fruit, and Yuma had taken off his moccasins to treat a blister when somewhere within the jungle, someone screamed. Everyone could tell by the panic in the sound something was terribly wrong, but with so many people scattered throughout the area, there was no way to see who was screaming or why.
Yuma’s first instinct was to protect Tyhen. He leapt to his feet and shoved her back against a tree, shielding her with his body and his knife.
Tyhen’s flash of insight was swift and vivid. A big snake had one of the men in a death grip and the woman couldn’t get him free. She could see men running with knives and spears, but the snake was huge and the man was dying in front of them.
Then she saw Montford Nantay running up with a knife in his hand, and even before he reached the snake, she sent him a message.
Montford, put your knife in the head!
Montford never questioned the voice that he heard or where it came from as he raised the knife and rammed it straight into the boa’s head so deep it was decapitated from the body.
The death throes kept the boa’s muscles in constricting spasms, but with less and less power. Finally, the men pulled the victim free and carried him away.
Montford’s hands were shaking and covered in blood as he stared down at the snake, trying to come to terms with what just happened. He’d heard the voice. He even recognized the voice. But he didn’t understand how she’d made that happen.
He took a deep, shuddering breath and began cleaning the knife and his hands with some wet leaves, then went to look for Tyhen.
***
The moment the screaming began, Yuma pulled Warrior’s Heart and backed Tyhen against a tree. Yuma was still in a protective crouch in front of Tyhen as the shouts and screaming reached an ear-shattering pitch, when it stopped as suddenly as it began.
“What was that?” he asked as he sheathed his knife and turned around.
Not only was Tyhen mute to the question, but her eyes had lost focus and she had that faraway look on her face that meant visions. He stepped in front of her and put his hands on her shoulders. As he did, she blinked, and he knew she saw him.
“What happened?”
“A man was being crushed by a boa. Some men saved him.”
“That’s good. Do you know who it was?”
“No. I couldn’t see his face.”
“I’m going to go see,” Yuma said. “Do you want to come?”
“I think I will wait here,” she said and sat down to finish her fruit.
“Don’t go wandering off without me,” he cautioned.
“I won’t. I promise,” she said.
He quickly put on his moccasins and then caught a drip of juice on her chin with the tip of his finger and licked it off.
“Sweet, but not as sweet as you,” he said softly.
“I love you very much,” she said and put a piece of the fruit between his lips.
He took it between his teeth, and then in moment of playfulness, growled and snapped at her fingers like he was going to bite them as well.
She squealed and jumped.
He was still laughing as he walked away.
Tyhen shook her head, then got up and began to look for water. Always when it rained, certain bushes that had cup-shaped leaves were an available water source.
She quickly found one of bushes, drank from the leaves until her thirst was slaked and then used the water from another to wash the fruit juice from her face and hands. She was drying her hands on her shift when Montford Nantay appeared, and he wasted no time with why he’d come.
“I heard you,” he said.
“Good. You saved his life.”
“No. You saved him, little Dove. I don’t know how you made that happen, but thank you. The man you saved is married to our sister, Lola. His name is Aaron.”
Her eyes widened in surprise. “I didn’t know you had other family that came with you to Naaki Chava. Why didn’t I know this?”
Montford shrugged. “Aaron doesn’t like us so much.”
She frowned. “He should now.”
Montford chuckled. “Yes, you are right. He should now,” he said and then put his hand on the top of her head.
“You are a blessing, Tyhen. Thank you.”
She shrugged. “You are welcome and no one needs to know this.”
“Know what?” he said and walked away.
By the time Yuma returned, Tyhen had their things packed and was sitting beneath the tree where he’d left her, dozing in a small patch of sunlight that had found its way through the canopy.
He dropped down beside her and then woke her with a kiss. “Are you all right?”
She nodded. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”
“It was good for you,” he said, and then added, “I found out what happened. A boa constrictor had a man caught in its coils. Montford saved him and it turned out to be Aaron, the man who is married to his sister.”
“Is he going to be all right?” she asked.
“Yes. Nothing broken, but they wrapped his ribs for support. He will be very sore for several days.”
“Good news,” she said.
“Yes, good news,” Yuma said and began gathering up their things as the walk resumed.
They had been on the move for almost an hour when they felt another aftershock that made everyone nervous.
“It is not a quake. It is nothing but a complaint,” Tyhen shouted.
But it was a vivid reminder of what they’d endured. Within moments everyone became nervous and uneasy again until a woman in the march began talking to the people around her in French, and when someone responded, she would not answer them unless they used the same language.
It soon became a game that moved up and down the long line of marchers as the day progressed. French soon gave way to Spanish, then to English, and then to different dialects from their own native tribes.
Singing Bird would have been happy knowing the time she’d given to educating the people was a success, but it would be up to the New Ones to continue this tradition and teach the indigenous tribes. Once those tribes understood the power they had by reading and writing in different languages and understanding numbers, they would stand strong against all invaders and their empty promises.
It was nearing sundown when they reached the foothills of another mountain. One moment they were slogging through vines as thick as their wrists and then they were spilling out of the jungle into a clearing and coming face to face with the dark mouth of a massive cave.
Chapter Seventeen
Even the New Ones, who’d had access to many such destination places in the world before Firewalker, had not seen a cave this large. They crossed the clearing in a rush to see.
Tyhen stopped in front of it and closed her eyes. She could smell and hear fresh running water and knew, even though it felt older than time, that there were no animals living inside.
“We stop here,” Tyhen shouted. “Here we will rest and heal. Here we can replenish our food stores and gather more medi
cines for the days ahead.”
Little by little, the people ventured inside, some more daring than others as they quickly fashioned torches and carried them farther into the depths to explore. The fact that there were no bats was received with great relief. They weren’t harmful, but nasty, and would have most likely fouled the water and the cave if was one of their roosts.
Once Tyhen was convinced the people would come to no harm, she let them explore and sat down just outside the cave on a large, moss-covered rock before easing the pack from her back. Her shoulders ached from the weight, and her knee was skinned and burning from a fall she’d taken on wet leaves earlier in the day. But considering what they had endured since sunrise, she could not complain.
Once Yuma noticed she was down, he took his water jug and went to find fresh water. The sound of the waterfall inside the cave was what they had called “white noise” in the time before Firewalker. It spilled down the cave wall into a large pool below, which then flowed on through an underground channel. It was plentiful and ever-flowing.
The moment Yuma dipped his water jug into the pool, he gasped. He hadn’t felt water like this since before Firewalker. And when he took the first drink, it was so cold it made his head hurt. He looked up and laughed.
Johnston Nantay was on the other side of the pool doing the same task and lifted a jug to him in a toast. “Don’t need ice cubes in this,” he yelled.
Yuma gave him a thumbs-up as he filled his water jug and hurried back outside. He wanted Tyhen to taste this while it was still cold.
She had not moved from the rock and there was a gathering crowd around her. Someone had given her a piece of coconut, and she was eating as they talked. She looked happy, almost at peace. It was a good thing for him to see as he hurried toward her.
Tyhen felt his presence and looked over her shoulder to confirm the thought, then smiled.
His head was up, his shoulders back, and she could see the movement of every muscle in his body as came toward her. His forehead was streaked with tiny scratches and there was a thin cut on his cheek, but he would never have mentioned it. He had been raised as one of Cayetano’s warriors, and as a man, he was afraid of nothing except losing her.
