by W. J. May
Dread rippled down her limbs.
What did it all mean?
"Jinji? Are you there?"
She turned to see her dearest friend, Leoa, push a tree branch aside and step into the clearing.
"I thought maybe..." Leoa trailed off, shaking her head and glancing at the ground before meeting Jinji's eyes again. Her friend's face warmed, nervous creases smoothed out, and a grin lifted the left side of her lip. "What are you doing?"
Jinji took a deep breath, trying to relax. "Thinking of Janu."
Leoa nodded, understanding dawning in her eyes. She stepped closer, placing her warm palm on Jinji's shoulder. "He would want you to be happy. Maniuk was his friend."
Jinji nodded.
Maybe that was it. Maybe she was just nervous, just wishing for her brother on such an important day in her life, just afraid that the joining would give her another man to lose.
She sighed and her shoulders slumped as she pushed the shadow from her mind and glanced at her friend again. The knot in her stomach still curled uncomfortably tight, but there was no use in trying to untie it now.
"Are you here to take me back to my mother?" Jinji asked, already thinking of all she needed to do before the ceremony began, especially of her braid.
Leoa shifted and it was then that Jinji noticed the stark white skins on her friend's arm, almost as pure as jinjiajanu in color.
Her gown.
The edges had been tied into hundreds of knots decorated with dried berries. Feathers of all hues were woven through the fabric, shimmering in the sun, changing colors with each minute move of Leoa's arm. Twine had been specially dyed just so the ancient ceremonial patterns could be woven in, patterns Jinji didn't even truly understand.
She had seen her mother painstakingly work on every inch of the garment, had watched as she laid it on the drying rack to bleach in the sun every day and brought it inside to clean and embroider every night.
Everyone in their tribe would eventually wear exquisite leathers to their joining, but none would ever be as fine as the one Jinji's mother had prepared. Yet the sight of it just made the knot in Jinji's stomach tighten.
She looked up just in time to catch the concern in Leoa's eyes.
"What's wrong, Jinji?"
"Nothing."
"Is it Maniuk? Did something happen?" She stepped closer, but Jinji moved away. It was ridiculous to be so concerned with a dream, absolutely ridiculous.
"No, of course not. He's a friend. He'll be a great leader."
"And so will you."
Jinji nodded absently. She had been born to lead her people; it was the only thing she knew how to do. No, that was not the cause of her anxiety.
"I know what's wrong," Leoa said with a smirk and stepped toward the edge of the clearing to lay Jinji's dress neatly on the grass. She held out her hands and cleared her throat. "You're going to miss me. That's what this is all about."
Jinji smiled. "Yes, Leoa, this is all about you."
"I knew it." She straightened her hands again, urging Jinji to take them. "But I know just the thing to help." She impatiently shook her fingertips one more time. Knowing not to disobey her friend, Jinji obliged and held on.
The smirk on Leoa's face widened. From years of experience, Jinji knew exactly what that look meant.
"One," Leoa said.
"Two," Jinji laughed, her mood already lifting.
"Three," they said in unison, completing the routine. And then they were off, spinning in circles like the center of a great storm. Jinji gripped Leoa's hands tighter and shuffled her feet to the left, trying not to fall. Their weight pulled them apart, but still they held on, straining to stay connected.
The world was a blur, rushing behind Leoa's face in a daze of colors that Jinji couldn't unwind. Her smile widened, pushing against her cheeks, straining her muscles so that they hurt in a good way—a way they hadn't in a while. And suddenly, the joining seemed far off. She was a child with her best friend, feeling girlish and untouched. The pressure of growing up had fallen from her shoulders, thrown off by the force of her sudden glee.
And then it was over.
In a heartbeat, Jinji's fingers slipped free of Leoa's, and she was thrown to the side, landing on the ground with an oomph.
But giggles invaded her senses before the pain took any toll, and she rolled to her side, shaking uncontrollably with an innocent joy that pushed itself out into the world because there was simply no way to contain it. So she let it go and unknowingly let her fears go with it.
"That was fun," Leoa said when the silence returned.
"It was," Jinji said, glancing over her shoulder with a contented sigh. Like always, Leoa had known exactly what she needed.
"Are you ready now?"
"I am," Jinji said and slowly sat up. She brought her hand to her hair, running her fingers through the long, ebony tresses, already missing them when she had reached the end. But before Jinji could make another move, her palm was slapped away.
"I'll do that," Leoa said, taking over the job of weeding out the knots, "just enjoy it. You're finally getting your braid." Her friend's voice was wistful, but to Jinji, this was the worst part of the joining.
Her braid.
She would miss the wind flowing through her hair, the way it moved with the spirits. She would miss the feel of it floating around her face when she dove deep down into a stream. But mostly, she would miss the feeling that it was hers alone, a part of her that belonged to no one else—not yet.
Her future belonged to her tribe. Her past belonged to her brother. Her essence belonged to the spirits. But her hair, as unimportant as it seemed, still belonged to her.
But soon it would belong to Maniuk, to their family, and to her people. No longer would it flow freely down her back, curling in soft tendrils down her spine. No, after sixteen years of freedom, it would be bound for the rest of her life. One strand for Maniuk, one strand for their future children, and one strand for the tribe—three parts braided together to show she had matured into adulthood and had left her carefree childhood behind. It would never be cut or undone, not unless it needed to be.
Jinji had only seen her mother unbraided once. When Janu passed, she had cut one strand of her braid off to be burned with his body, a symbol that their bond had been broken. She let her hair free until the cut strands had grown even with the other two portions and were ready to be braided again, a sign that her heart had healed.
Jinji touched the tips of her silky locks. No, if she was going to be braided, she hoped it would be forever.
"You're usually quiet," Leoa said, continuing to run her fingers through Jinji's untamable hair, "but usually I can tell what's going on in your head."
"I'm just thinking."
"I should be used to that by now. All this thinking you do, it always seems exhausting. More exhausting than all the talking I always do. I wonder what would happen if we changed places for once."
"I would grow hoarse, and you would grow bored."
Jinji was sure Leoa's pause was from rolling her eyes.
"Then I'll keep talking..." She tapped her fingers along Jinji's back, something Leoa always did when she was thinking, or more accurately, scheming.
"Hmm," she said after a minute—an idea had sparked to life, something Jinji probably wouldn't like. "Maniuk is so handsome, don't you think? Have you seen how far he can throw the spears? How easily he can wrestle the other men to the ground? So strong, a great warrior, and well," her voice dipped lower, "I'm sure a great lover, too."
"Leoa!" Jinji tried to turn, but her friend gripped her shoulders, keeping her straight so her hair remained still.
"Don't tell me you haven't thought about it, with the joining so close. I know he has. I've seen him watching you."
"We're friends," Jinji growled, her face burning.
"Well, soon you'll be a lot more than that, and I want to hear all about it, but for now, the braiding."
"Is my mother coming?" Jinji asked, surprised
they were not returning to the village before beginning the preparations.
"She knew you wouldn't want everyone around to watch. That's why she sent me to find you."
Jinji smiled, sending her thank you to the spirits since her mother was not there to hear. The last thing she needed was the scrutiny of the elders, picking over her flaws, telling her how to sit and stand and walk and speak. No, it was much better this way.
"I'm glad."
"Me too. Now," Leoa started and then separated the first third of Jinji's hair, placing it gently over her right shoulder, "for your joined."
"Taikeno," Jinji whispered, repeating the word in their native language, the one that had been stolen from them hundreds of years ago when the newworlders had taken over the land. But still, there were some things that could only be said in Arpapajo words. Some things only the ancient words could really express.
Leoa took the next third and draped it over Jinji's left shoulder. "For your children."
"Ka'shasten," Jinji responded, closing her eyes and saying it like a prayer.
Leoa gathered the remaining locks, tugging gently on them while she said, "For your people."
"Arpapajona." Jinji bowed her head, bringing her palms together, trying to catch the words and fuse them into the spirits around her.
As she wove the three parts together, Leoa began to hum. Following the rhythm, Jinji let her hands dance, weaving the words and the spirits together in an invisible braid, copying her friend's movements in a personal prayer.
Taikeno.
Ka'shasten.
Arpapajona.
Jinji repeated the words again and again in her mind, turning them into a song. A song of hope for a future that was happier than her past.
And then it was done.
Leoa tightened the strands, tying a series of intricate knots at the base of Jinji's braid to keep it tight and strong.
Just like that, she was a woman.
Waiting one more breath, Jinji opened her eyes.
And screamed.
Jumping up and backing quickly away from the spot, she stumbled over Leoa's feet until they had both fallen to the ground again.
Eyes.
She had seen bright white eyes staring out of her shadow.
"We must go," Jinji urged, breathlessly struggling to stand on her feet. Was that a yell she heard off in the distance? Were cries riding on the wind? "Do you hear that?"
Leoa gripped her hands, keeping her steady. "What? There is nothing. You're scaring me."
Jinji paused, took a deep breath, and listened. She heard nothing. Leoa was right.
Looking down at her feet, Jinji let her eyes run over the edge of her shadow, looking deep into the depths for some sign of betrayal.
But it was all a dream. It must have been a trick of the light. An illusion she had woven without realizing it.
Everything was fine. Everything was as it should be.
Her breath slowed as she tried to relax. Everything will be all right. The past is the past—I will not let it determine my future.
She would not let the shadows drive her crazy—she had moved beyond that, past the craze that Janu's death had left her in. She was better now. Stronger.
"Come here," Leoa said, holding up the dress.
Jinji stepped closer, turning around and slipping off the furs that she currently wore. They were brown, covered in dirt and grass stains, blending into the spot where they fell.
She raised her arms up, letting the fresh dress slide down over her body. It was still rough and unworn, scratchy against her skin. But it was beautiful. And it made her copper skin glow.
Leoa tugged on the strap around Jinji's waist securing it tightly before stepping back. Jinji turned, meeting her friend's smile with a weak one of her own.
"Let's go—" Leoa began.
But she never got the chance to finish, because the imagined scream Jinji had heard on the wind turned into a real one, piercing both of their ears like a dagger.
Their eyes met. After years of friendship, of sisterhood, no words were needed. The fear in their gazes said it all, spoke more than words could, and they ran.
Another wail cut through the forest.
Then a growl and a grunt.
The howl of a warrior cry.
Then silence.
Leoa ran faster, her long legs carried her farther than Jinji's petite frame could match. Before long, her friend had become a phantom dashing farther and farther out of Jinji's sight.
The fringe on Jinji's dress pulled against branches, tangling her in the forest as if the trees themselves were trying to stop her. The wind pressed against her limbs, strong gusts that acted like a wall holding her body. Her feet dipped deep into soft mud that should have been hard and dry.
But Jinji pressed on, speeding through the small stream at the edge of their home until she spotted a figure in the distance, just beyond the entrance to the great longhouse.
She sighed, slowing her steps. It was Leoa.
If her friend had stopped running, then there was nothing to fear. Jinji had gotten them both worked up over nothing.
"Leoa?" She called.
Her friend turned just enough for Jinji to see a long stick protruding from her chest, a red spot seeping through her skins.
"Leoa!" Jinji screamed. Her eyes widened in horror and her heart pounded, but she was stuck. Her feet felt too heavy to move, as if everything was happening in slow motion. Janu's face flashed before her eyes. This could not be happening. Not again. Her limbs were stiff, her mouth dry, her brain just repeated no, no, no unable to comprehend anything but agony.
And then a whisper filtered through the wind, "Jinji," and Leoa's arm reached out.
Her instincts kicked in. Jinji dashed to her friend, her sister, catching her just as her knees gave out and her body fell. They landed together, sliding slowly to the ground as Leoa's weight pulled them down. Jinji hugged Leoa to her chest, wishing that the beat of her heart would somehow spread to that of her friend's.
But she felt the body in her arms slacken, felt it drop an extra inch into her lap, heard one last gasp of desperate air, and knew.
Her arms lost their grip and Leoa tumbled onto Jinji's lap, lifeless and wide-eyed, shock written across her features.
"Ka'shasten," she whispered, ignoring the tears that blurred her vision. My family. "Pajora jinjiajanu." Be with the spirits.
Her voice cracked and she screamed.
And then her vision went red. She was not a little girl this time. She was a warrior. And she would find out who did this.
Jinji stood. Her eyes scanned the trees, searching for the bow that loosed the arrow, searching for any movement. But the village was still.
"Who are you?" She screamed.
A shuffling noise drew her attention. Just beyond the longhouse, someone was moving.
Jinji crept closer, pressing her body against the curved wood of the house, using it as a shield, hiding from the invader.
Heart pounding, she peered around the corner.
But it was a man she recognized.
"Maniuk," she hissed, trying to catch his attention. His spear was poised at the ready, a bow was slung over his shoulder, and the knife at his waist dripped red.
Part of her was proud. He was already a great warrior, and he would be a great leader when this fight was over.
But another part was afraid. Where was everyone else?
Maniuk didn’t turn to her call. All of his attention was focused on the trees opposite them. She followed the line of his head, unable to see his eyes, and scanned the woods.
There was nothing there.
"Maniuk," she called again. Chills ran along her limbs. It was not the time to be fighting alone.
Suddenly he jerked into action. His arm lashed out, releasing the spear in a low arc that sailed through the center of their small village until with a thud, it landed.
A body fell forward, scratching against bark as it dropped.
But i
t couldn’t be.
Jinji stepped back.
Maniuk?
He would never...
But there was Kekohi, one of their own, an Arpapajo, facedown with the spear through his chest.
Jinji's trembling hands rose to cover her lips, holding in the cry.
And then Maniuk turned around.
White.
His eyes were white, drained of all color, of all spirit, empty and somehow full at the same time.
The shadow had found her. It had come for her.
She stepped back again and again, moving away from the monster before her until her foot caught, and she stumbled.
Looking down, Jinji saw what she had missed earlier. The feathers along the arrow piercing Leoa's chest were raven black with red painted tips. They were Arpapajo, not newworlder. They were Maniuk's—Jinji had plucked those feathers herself.
He moved closer.
Jinji didn’t try to run. She had no weapons, no hope of outpacing him. She had nothing left to run for.
Three feet from her body, Maniuk stopped. He slipped the knife from his waist and held it before him, arm out, almost as if he were offering it her.
Her eyes narrowed, traced the bulging veins up his wrist to his shoulder, until she stared into those absent yet knowing eyes.
The knife rose higher, up and up, over the height of her head, until it rested at his throat.
"No," she reached forward.
But in one quick motion, it was over.
Jinji didn't look away. Instead, she searched those eyes, and the instant before Maniuk's life was gone, she saw what she had been looking for. The shadow disappeared and Maniuk, her taikeno, was back. A deep despair flashed in his irises, and they froze that way as death took him.
He dropped to her feet.
Jinji knelt down, put her palm to his cheek, and closed his eyelids. "We would have done great things together," she whispered, brushing her fingers up through his hair, "I'm sorry I brought the shadow to you. I'm so sorry, my taikeno."
Jinji lowered her head until her lips pressed softly against his. Their first kiss. The one they should have shared at their joining. The one that should have been the first of many, yet would be their last. The only kiss they would ever know.
