by Liz Fichera
“Yes,” I said just as Honovi lifted me to my feet. My right foot still stung but I didn’t wince.
“Good,” he said. “We’ve got to keep moving. And Sinopa will meet us—”
I raised one hand, stopping him. “Sinopa?” I said. “He’s here, too?” Even in the dark, I could see the whites of Honovi’s teeth, though his hair and his eyes blended seamlessly against the night.
“Yes,” he said. “No time to explain. We’ve got to keep running. We’ve got to go where it’s safe.”
“And where’s that?” I said, mostly to myself. The only safe place I knew was my village, nestled at the foot of mountains that used to strangle me. What I’d give to know their suffocation again.
Without answering me, Honovi tugged on my arm and then grabbed me around the waist. He carried me against his hip, finally choosing to run for the both of us. I ran as fast as I could but my foot throbbed, especially my toes. It was as if something sharp pierced my skin.
As we ran past the clearing and into another thick patch of woods, I cursed my clumsiness, especially when I was anything but clumsy. Why wasn’t I more careful? Why didn’t I watch where I was running? I knew there were rocks. I knew they were everywhere. And if I hadn’t fallen, Honovi and I would have been able to run twice as fast. I was so angry at myself that I barely noticed the prickly tree branches that scraped against our skin as we ran blindly into the darkness.
“Almost there,” Honovi whispered as we ran.
I didn’t answer. I was too busy biting down on my lip to dull the shooting pain in my foot. But despite the pain, my chest didn’t feel as heavy, running so close to Honovi.
We ran until my entire leg turned numb. Still, not feeling anything was better than feeling everything. And if Honovi noticed my increased limp, he didn’t say. We ran, with me leaning against his hip, until we reached the edge of another thick patch of forest. And there we stopped, abruptly.
“Can you climb?” Honovi asked as my hands braced forward against my knees. My chest threatened to burst. The fuzzy white light returned to the inside of my head again.
I nodded up at Honovi without knowing if I could, even though we had climbed countless palo verdes together. But these trees were different. The trees in the forest of the World Beyond were grander, fuller, and the leaves poked at my skin like red ants.
“Good,” he said. “Because we must climb this one.”
I looked up and saw nothing. I could smell the leaves, sharp and pungent, like the spongy grasses that covered most of the forest floor.
“Now,” he added urgently.
Quickly, I reached and found the first branch. The bark felt rough against my hands but I hoisted myself up with a small boost from Honovi’s hand. “I’m right behind you,” he said.
“I’ve climbed a tree before,” I replied.
Honovi grumbled something underneath his breath but I ignored it. There was no time to argue.
In the darkness, our hands reached frantically for branches, ignoring sticks and wispy leaves that snapped and scratched our faces. We climbed until the tree began to sway. There we stopped and looked down upon a perfect view of the clearing we left behind. The moon still bathed it in blue-grey light. Honovi had chosen a magnificent hiding place.
“We’ll rest here,” he said. We settled on a branch that was wide enough to hold both of us.
“And do what?” I said, catching my breath. I lifted my injured foot to massage my toes through the rabbit skin.
“We wait,” Honovi said. “This is where we wait for Sinopa.”
“Where is he? And why isn’t he here? With us?”
Honovi’s voice lowered to almost a growl. “He’s back with those men.” The words practically spit out of his mouth. “He’s untying their beasts so they can’t follow us. We need a head start.”
As I stared back at Honovi, listening to him talk about beasts and head starts, my eyes welled with tears. Without another word, I threw my arms around him and sobbed against his chest till my own chest ached. He held one arm around me and the other on the branch above us so we wouldn’t fall backwards. Between sobs I finally blurted, “They call them horses.”
Honovi chuckled over my head but didn’t say anything. He held me tight and stroked the back of my head as we balanced on the sturdy branch. It was such a relief to be wrapped in the arms of my oldest, dearest friend. He felt like home. His skin and hair even smelled like home, a mixture of creosote and the sun. Best of all, I started to believe that everything could be okay again. I embraced that possibility until my muffled sobs subsided.
I doubted that I would ever be happier to see anyone for the rest of my life—however long Hunab Ku deemed my life to be.
Chapter Eleven
Honovi and I remained hidden in the treetops, scanning the clearing and waiting for Sinopa’s return. I felt strangely at peace and anxious at the same time. It was like that uneasy stage between dreaming and waking.
The forest was so quiet that even our whispers could be mistaken for loud voices. Above us, the Sky Wanderers painted just enough of a silvery glow across the high grasses to reveal a coyote in search of an unsuspecting rabbit. The gentle wind could barely chill us more than we were.
“How much longer?” I whispered, still trying to rub the swelling from my foot. Our journey home would be a long one if my foot didn’t heal, and yet my injured foot hardly mattered. I’d crawl back on hands and knees if necessary.
Honovi sipped from my water pouch which, miraculously, had not slipped through my dress when I raced across the forest like a crazed mule deer fleeing from a coyote. “As long as it takes,” he replied, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before handing me the pouch. He chewed another small piece of dried meat, devouring it greedily. Clearly he needed more food, even more than me, especially since he and Sinopa could have barely had time to stop for a moment to catch up with us, they on foot, we on horseback. What little provisions they carried were eaten long ago, if they carried any at all.
It seemed I hadn’t needed to leave the shells as clues either. With the exception of the one tied to the tree at the river, Honovi had collected all of the other shells and kept them safe inside his quiver along with his arrows. Gaho would be pleased, surely, to see her necklace again, albeit in pieces.
“How did you know I was taken?”
“I found your sandal. And a piece of your deerskin.” He paused. “Then at next light we found the beasts’ tracks.”
“Horses,” I corrected him.
He sighed. “Yes, horses.” Honovi turned toward the clearing, his eyes squinting against the darkness, anxious for a glimpse of Sinopa.
“How did this happen, Honovi?” My voice cracked. “How did Yuma and Miakoda let this happen?” It didn’t seem possible. Yuma would never have allowed any harm to come to anyone in the village. Never! He’d have crushed Diego’s thick neck between his own hands. I shuddered to think what Miakoda would have done to Diego and his men. Yet, the only other handful of strangers who traveled through our village had been friendly and wore deerskins like everyone else. They always entered and departed on foot from the south. Some even traded gifts with Yuma, delicate white shells for woven baskets, but then they left after sharing a meal.
Honovi turned to me and said, “The morning after the fire, we found their camp near the river, not far from where I found your sandal. They had been hiding behind the boulders for at least two suns, maybe more, watching us. Three men, maybe more.”
“I only saw three.” My body shuddered, remembering the swim with Chenoa, wondering what would have happened had Honovi not followed us. I couldn’t bear it if Chenoa had been taken, too. “But what about Yuma’s men? Where were they?” Someone always circled the village, more to hunt for animals than to look out for strangers. Bobcats and coyotes were more common to our village than strangers.
“Everyone was at your wedding ceremony—” Honovi’s voice stopped. He turned away, his jaw clenching in the moonlight. �
��Miakoda had insisted.”
I touched his forearm so he’d continue. “They didn’t come from the desert, Aiyana. They came over Sleeping Mule Deer, and we let them. We left the entire village unprotected.”
My nostrils flared with panic. “We’ve got to get back, Honovi. We’ve got to warn Yuma and the others.”
His hand pressed tightly over mine but he said nothing.
“They’ll be back.” My words tumbled furiously. “I know it. And next time they’ll take more of us. We must return. Quickly.”
“We will, Aiyana,” Honovi said. “Just as soon as Sinopa comes back.”
My eyes turned to the clearing, scanning the silvery grasses for our friend, frantic for his safe return. What was taking him so long? We had to get back to the village.
Finally, when there was no sign of Sinopa, I coaxed my breathing to slow and talked of happier things. “Tell me about Gaho,” I said, barely above a whisper. “How is my mother?” I so missed her. I missed everyone, including Miakoda and his disapproving eyes, if that was possible. I even missed Chenoa’s constant impatience with me. “What happened to everybody, after the fire? Is everyone all right?”
“You saw the fire?”
“Some of it.” I nodded. “I smelled it. And I saw it from the top of Sleeping Mule Deer. The Angry One, the one with scars across his face, said he was glad about the fire. He and the younger one started it. They said the fire started easily.” My nostrils flared all over again, remembering their boastfulness.
“They started the fire in the fields,” Honovi said, his anger matching mine. “It spread quickly. Our crops were so dry.” He paused to inhale. “We tried to put it out—all of us—but we were too late. We couldn’t fill the baskets fast enough.”
“And Gaho?” I said her name again. “Is she all right?”
In the dim light, Honovi’s lips pressed together in a tight line and his chest stopped moving. Then he quickly stuffed another piece of dried meat into his mouth and my stomach tightened all the more. “Honovi?” I said slowly, carefully. Tentatively. “What secret do you keep from me?”
But Honovi didn’t answer. He took his time chewing the last piece of dried meat, unlike the other two morsels. Finally, he said, “We’ll need to find more food tomorrow, I think I saw—”
“Honovi,” I interrupted him. I reached for his shoulder and squeezed it. “Please,” I said, “You’ve got to tell me. You’re keeping something from me.” I paused to calm my wavering voice. “What is it?”
He drew in a long breath and exhaled, stalling again. When I wouldn’t release his arm, he finally said, “It’s Chenoa…”
“Chenoa?” My voice got higher. I wasn’t expecting that. My hands fell to my lap. “What about her?”
Honovi leaned forward. He placed both hands on my shoulders. “There was the fire…” His voice trailed off again.
“Yes,” I said, impatience creeping into my voice. “I know. I saw it. Remember?”
“But we didn’t,” Honovi said. “Not until it was too late. We weren’t paying enough attention. They slipped past us into the fields on foot and no one saw them.” His head shook, disgustedly. But it was even deeper than disgust. It was guilt.
I swallowed, hard. Who would have imagined that men could be so cruel? And with everyone gathered in the center of the village for a celebration?
Honovi’s voice stayed calm, even as he started to repeat himself. “Everybody tried to put out the fire. Even Chitsa.”
“Chitsa?” I said in disbelief, picturing her bony arms lifting heavy clay bowls and baskets filled with water. She could barely see. But then of course everybody would have helped. Everyone knew the importance of our crops. Not saving them meant certain starvation during the Season of Shorter Days.
He nodded.
“And?”
Honovi shook his head. “It spread quickly.” He paused, dragging his hand through his hair. “The wind blew sparks into the village. Fire was everywhere.”
“The village?” My lip trembled as I pictured blackened structures, ash-filled courtyards. Lifeless faces. “What’s left?”
“The roof of the Great House caught fire first. It spread from roof to roof.”
I paused. “And ours? What of ours?”
Honovi shook his head again and I sucked back a breath. He still kept something from me. Instinctively, my hand pressed against my stomach. I thought I was going to be sick, especially when I imagined my people with nothing but Hunab Ku for protection. “Yours, too?”
“Yes,” Honovi said with another heavy sigh. “Ours, too. No one was spared. Not even Pakuna’s family.” Resentment laced Honovi’s voice when he spoke Pakuna’s name but I ignored it. It seemed silly to even discuss Pakuna and everything that happened before the fire. What did weddings matter now? “Your future husband and his father must start over like everyone else now. White Ant, Red Ant, we all begin again.”
My resentment rivaled Honovi’s, especially when I thought about the senseless destruction, but it had nothing to do with Pakuna. It had everything to do with Diego and his men. Why didn’t Diego take me and leave everyone else alone? Why destroy an entire village for a single girl? Why?
I pressed Honovi again. He avoided my real question. I tried another way. “Tell me more about our families.”
Honovi leaned forward, his legs straddling the thick branch that held us both. “Gaho and Ituha are fine, although sick with worry about you. Your father wanted to run with us, but I had to remind him he would only slow us down.” He paused and attempted a smile. “He was not so easily convinced.”
I smiled, too, picturing my stubborn father with his thick arms and broad chest. Stockier than Honovi, he was hardly as fast. No one was. “And Onawa?”
“A few burns on his arms and legs but no worse than anyone else.”
I swallowed, thinking about the gentleness in my younger brother’s fingers as they carved magic into wood and rock. If Diego had stolen that, too, I’d kill Diego myself with my bare hands. “And Eyota?”
“Ornery, as usual,” Honovi laughed but it was unusually forced. I tried to laugh with him but failed just as badly. It was as if we’d forgotten.
Finally, I said her name. “And Chenoa?” My voice cracked. As I searched the whites of his eyes, something pulled deep inside my chest. It was a pain that I didn’t understand. And that’s when I realized why Sinopa joined Honovi when it could have easily been any number of faster boys from the White Ant clan.
As soon as her name left my lips, Honovi’s eyes dipped again and faded into the night. He squeezed my shoulders as if he was preparing himself. Or me. I swallowed, waiting for him to answer. My voice cracked again. “Is she hurt?”
Honovi didn’t answer.
“Badly?” I prodded when he stayed silent. I pictured her beautiful, sweet face covered with red burns and streaks of dirt, and so close to her wedding ceremony. It wasn’t fair. She’d been planning it for almost two seasons.
“She’s not hurt,” he said finally and for an instant my shoulders lightened, though Honovi’s hands did not loosen their grip.
But then he quickly added in a whisper, “I’m so sorry, Aiyana.”
“Sorry?” My throat tightened. “For what?”
“Chenoa isn’t hurt.” He paused.
“Not hurt?”
“No, Aiyana,” Honovi said quietly. “Not hurt.” He paused again. Then he said, “Chenoa got trapped inside your house, trying to put out the fire. The roof collapsed on her. Chenoa is dead.”
My eyes widened. Dead? Chenoa, dead?
“What?” I said, as the treetops began to spin. “Chenoa?” I said her name as if Honovi had made a mistake. Because it had to be a mistake. How could I continue without my older sister? It was impossible. She was as much a part of my life as breathing.
Honovi pulled me closer, carefully. Calmly. But in the next instant, there was no time for tears. I had to bury them away, along with everything else.
That’s becau
se Sinopa raced across the clearing like a Sky Wanderer dropped from the sky.
Grieving for my only sister would have to wait. My captors stole that from me, too.
***
“Move!” Honovi said through gritted teeth.
Without argument, we scrambled down the tree, Honovi climbing down one branch below me. His legs swung to the branch below us before I had a chance to blink. Together, we climbed down faster than we had climbed up. My hands, still scratched and tender from the bark’s ragged edges, barely had time to completely grip a branch.
The ball of my injured foot throbbed with each impact. But just like grieving for Chenoa, there was no time for pain either. Both would have to be tucked away, saved for another time.
When I reached the last branch, my temples pounded and cold sweat returned to my forehead and armpits. Honovi reached for me before I had a chance to leap to the ground, cushioning the final blow to my foot. I grimaced when I jumped. We landed in the wet grass that surrounded the tree trunk and for a moment my foot basked in the coolness of it.
“We have to run again, Aiyana. Are you able?”
There was only one answer.
I nodded, just as Sinopa reached us under the tree, breathless. He could barely speak.
“They’re not far behind,” he hissed between deep breaths. “On foot,” he added with a smile that laced the edges of his voice.
My heart pounded so hard that it threatened to leap out on its own and we hadn’t started running. I was torn between running forward and running straight back for Diego with my fishing spear pointed squarely into his chest. Except that I’d lost my spear somewhere between the river and the clearing.
The need for revenge grew uncontrollably. It was all-consuming and deep inside my chest. My nostrils flared as I faced the clearing, picturing Diego’s face, my hands around his neck.
He killed my sister. Diego and his men killed Chenoa.
But Honovi threaded his arm around my waist, pulling me forward, and the image of Diego vanished. We ran behind Sinopa, with me leaning against Honovi’s hip. Sinopa finally glanced at us over his shoulder as we raced through the clearing. He slowed, waited for us, and then threaded his arm around the other side of my waist. Together, the three of us ran so fast that my toes barely grazed the tips of the grass. I didn’t have to run; Honovi and Sinopa did it for me.
