by Travis Bughi
Don’t take this decision lightly, she repeated. What are you giving up?
Her first thought was of her brothers, and that was a strong one. They meant so much to her—her best friends all her life. Just the thought of leaving them for more than a few days was heartbreaking. She nearly said no to Chara just off of that.
There were her parents, too. She loved them, despite how harsh her mother could be at times. Yet, beyond those four people, there was nothing else tempting her to stay. She hated the Great Plains. The land was a prison—all she’d ever known—barren and boring. Mariam said it was a sanctuary from the world’s horrors, but to Emily it was numbing and lacked substance and worth, not even enough for anyone to conquer.
Emily had to leave.
“I understand things will be difficult,” Emily said, “but I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t try. I’ve dreamed of this for too long to turn back now, and I’ll be forever grateful that you gave me this offer, Chara. And, Mother, Molly, Mariam, I know you’re worried about me. Father always said that I got too much of you and not enough of him, and I think that’s why I have to leave now. Like you, I hunger for another life—a life that’s different from the one I was handed. I know you’re worried you’ll never see me again, but I want you to know I’m not resentful. I will come back. I love you and Father and Abe and Nicholas too much. I won’t forget you, and I know you won’t forget me.”
Admittedly, Emily’s heartfelt speech had not been completely spontaneous. Ever since Emily had seen Chara and Mariam arguing, she had guessed that she would need to win over her mother. Despite this, every word was true.
“She really is your daughter,” Chara said with a smile.
Mariam nodded. She drew in a breath and let it out slowly, purposefully. After another pause, she frowned.
“Well, if you must leave,” she sighed, “you had better tell your brothers yourself, and your father.”
“Yes, Mother,” Emily slid a hand across the table to her mother, and Mariam gave it a rare squeeze of affection.
That squeeze meant more to Emily than any amount of words.
She left, and the minotaur nodded at her when she exited the house. Adelpha was out of sight, and Paul and Abraham were also missing, but when Emily saw two of the unicorns gone, she guessed they had gone for a trot. Emily hoped that they’d be back soon.
She found Nicholas sitting on the far side of the ruined barn. As Emily approached him, she noticed him looking out across the vast plains. He scanned side to side, but there was nothing to see but the blowing grass and rolling hills.
“Hello,” she said.
She glanced over the wrecked roof for a place to sit, trying to find a spot that didn’t have a piece of debris jutting out to stab her. She found one, checked it with her hand, and then took a seat beside her brother.
“When are you leaving?” he asked
The direct question gave Emily pause.
“How do you know I said yes?” she replied.
“Because you’d be crazy not to.”
Nicholas broke his vigilant gaze and turned to Emily. She prepared herself for that look of contempt again but was relieved when he gave her a smirk that grew into a smile.
“I thought you were mad at me,” Emily said.
“Well, I was a little, at first, but then I thought about it.”
“Really?” Emily teased. “That’s not like you.”
Nicholas chuckled and gave his sister a nudge.
“Hey, I can think,” he said. “It’s just that, most of the time, I choose not to. Takes too much time.”
It was Emily’s turn to laugh.
“Okay then, so what did you think about?” she asked.
“I thought about the offer you were given, and I realized I’d do the same thing in your place. I wouldn’t even hesitate.”
Emily let her silence give the answer. Nicholas seemed to acknowledge it as he let the moment pass by. Emily felt the hot sun burn her exposed neck—she’d left her straw hat inside the house—but it didn’t matter. All farmers had dark skin that had been hardened under the sun’s constant presence. Under her shirt and pants though? She was paler than a thunderbird’s eyes.
“So, you did say yes, right?” Nicholas asked.
“Yes, I did, in a manner of speaking.”
Emily looked around and then asked a question that had been on her mind.
“Where did Father take Abe?”
Nicholas shrugged and said, “I don’t know. I didn’t ask. I guess they just wanted privacy. Hey, that amazon Chara brought with her is a real banshee, isn’t she?”
“Yes she is,” Emily laughed and nodded. “I think they were referring to her when they told me amazon life was harsh. I hope most of them aren’t like her. Where did Adelpha go anyway?”
“She disappeared around to the north side of the house. I’m guessing she wanted some shade,” Nicholas looked around. “Do you know when you’re leaving?”
“Back in Lucifan, Chara said something about the amazons only staying in Lucifan for three more days. So, considering it takes a day to travel to the city, I’ll bet we leave tomorrow.”
“Wow. That’s really soon.”
“Yeah.”
Nicholas whistled and kicked his legs out into a reclining position.
“I mean, that’s really sudden,” he repeated.
“You’re telling me.”
They heard some creaking of wood behind them, and they turned to see the minotaur rising from his seat on the porch. He stretched his muscles and walked down towards the barn. At first, Emily thought he was going to talk to her more about being an amazon, but he stopped and looked around.
“Where is . . . the plow?” Talvorn asked.
“Thank you for starting your work early,” Nicholas said. “We will not forget this kindness.”
Emily smiled, feeling proud of Nicholas for taking at least one of their father’s teachings seriously. Using manners when dealing with minotaurs was an important lesson.
“Our plow is on the other side of this barn,” Nicholas continued. “I can show you where it is if you’d like.”
Talvorn shook his head, though Emily didn’t know if it was to say ‘no’ or if it was out of habit. Minotaurs often shook their heads for seemingly no apparent reason, just like when they snorted and whipped their tails. This head shake must have been a ‘no,’ because Talvorn walked away in the direction Nicholas had indicated.
He found the plow easily enough and dragged it towards the field. The plow was one of the largest tools on the farm. It was about as high as a table, except for the handlebars that extended out to chest height on a human. In the front, two plates came together to form a point at ground level, which would cut through the dirt. The purpose of a plow was to create rows of dirt where crops could be planted and then easily irrigated. It was a strenuous task normally done with a unicorn. The unicorn would walk in front, pulling the plow, while a human would steer the plow and help push it from behind. The labor was more intensive than tilling and just as time consuming. However, minotaurs needed no assistance from unicorns.
Talvorn Bloodhoof stood behind the plow and pushed the plates into the dirt. The handlebars looked like twigs in his hands, and the plow looked like a toy. Yet, he handled it with ease and skill. The minotaur leaned forward, shook his head again, and then pushed the plow through the soil.
Emily and Nicholas watched together and marveled at the strength of such creatures. They’d seen it all before, but it never ceased to amaze them. Talvorn gripped the plow, pitting his weight and might against the earth’s stubbornness. In this case, the soil was no match.
Talvorn barely gave a grunt, though the chore was surely laborious. It was even harder for the Stouts who would take turns throughout the day just steering the tool. Paul often said that one day they would find a blacksmith to fashion metal blades on the plow and thus make the task easier, but somehow Emily’s father never found the time or money. Perhaps it wasn’
t important to him. It certainly wasn’t important, or a problem, for Talvorn who whipped his tail back and forth as he crossed up and down the field. He moved at a pace that was a little slower than a leisurely walk. Compared to the speed at which the Stouts normally plowed, this was blindingly fast.
“They’re so strong,” Nicholas noted.
Emily just nodded. Nicholas continued.
“Father told me that the minotaurs used to be stronger, that there used to be a lot more of them. He said they used to rule the Great Plains. It used to be their land. Then something happened to them, a disease or something, and it nearly wiped them out.”
“Yeah, he told me that, too,” Emily said. “He also said that’s why so many of them work on farms now and find work in the city. They have to because there’s so few of them left.”
“Kind of a shame, don’t you think? I’ll bet they were amazing warriors.”
“I’m sure they still are.”
They watched Talvorn plow the soil, and Emily thought again of everything she was leaving behind. The plains wouldn’t be missed, of course, but her parents and brothers were a different story. Her only family and friends, and soon she’d be without them. She couldn’t imagine waking up without seeing one of them, and two mornings from now, she’d be doing just that. It was daunting.
The prospect of a new life didn’t scare her, though. Chara seemed like a fair and decent mother, and Emily wasn’t worried about making new friends. She’d lived all her life without making new friends, and she felt unjustifiably confident that she’d be perfectly fine if every amazon ended up treating her just like Adelpha did. Simply speaking, the problem wasn’t what was to come; it was what she was leaving behind. Parting from loved ones was a task best left to the coldhearted. In that regard, Emily felt unsuited.
As if to complicate manners, Emily saw two approaching figures silhouetted by the sun’s descent. It didn’t take long for her to recognize Paul and Abe seated atop their unicorns. Emily wondered what they’d needed to talk about that would require them to go so far from the house. Then she remembered the jealously that had shown on Abe’s face, and her curiosity was outweighed by guilt. No doubt her father had taken Abe out to discuss Emily’s rare offer, and she realized it wasn’t so much the offer of being an amazon as it was the offer to see the world. That’s why her brothers were jealous, and she could not blame them. Hopefully, she thought, Paul had spent enough time and effort weathering Abe’s distress. Emily did not want to look into a face of jealously and try to explain herself.
Fortunately, as they approached, it seemed Paul had succeeded. Actually, it looked as if Paul had done more than enough. Abe appeared more than content; he was grinning widely.
“What are you smiling about?” Emily asked as the two approached. “Happy to see me going?”
“Not quite,” he laughed.
Abe dismounted and took the reins of both unicorns. Emily’s father dismounted and put a hand on his daughter’s shoulder. He gave her a proud look, which wasn’t much different than the way he normally looked at his children. It comforted Emily anyway, letting her know that despite anything that may happen, their relationship would not change.
“I know you’ve got a tough road ahead of you,” he said, “but I want you to know that I’m proud of you for making the best of your world.”
“You don’t mind that I’m leaving? Wait, how do you even know I said yes?”
“Because you’re my daughter. I’ve seen you staring out across the plains in the evening, and I know what’s on your mind. We’ll miss you out on the farm, yes, but I’d never use that as an excuse to stifle your dream.”
Emily couldn’t stop smiling.
“Thank you, Father.”
Paul gave his daughter a pat on the shoulder.
“Mind if I borrow Nicholas?” he asked.
“That’s fine by me,” Emily replied. “I want to talk with Abe anyway.”
Paul and Nicholas took the unicorns and walked over to tie them up to the porch. Afterwards, Paul walked over to the working minotaur to speak with him, probably to thank him, Emily guessed. Talvorn did not pause in his work but graciously nodded to accept Paul’s thanks.
“So I take it you’re not. . .”
“Jealous?” Abe finished.
She nodded.
“No. Well, I was, but not anymore.”
“Can I ask why?”
Abe looked up and bit his lower lip, not in sarcasm, and it seemed he was really giving Emily’s question serious thought.
“Sorry, but I can’t,” he said. “All I can say is that you’ll find out when you come back.”
“Come on, Abe,” Emily laughed. “What is it? It can’t be that secret.”
Abe just shook his head.
“Sorry, little sister. All I can say is that when you come back, you’ll be proud of me. I guarantee it.”
Emily stepped forward and wrapped her older brother in a hug. He returned it, and she squeezed him tightly. She tried to put all her effort into that hug, at least one full year’s worth.
“I’m already proud of you, Abe,” she said.
Chapter 13
Emily was right. There was precious little time to waste, and at first light the next day, Adelpha, Chara, and Emily were already walking. They said their goodbyes, of course. Chara and Mariam spent the longest time talking, while Emily gave her farewells to her father and brothers. Emily barely had the time to register the magnitude of her decision. For the first time, she realized that she would not wake to farm work in the morning. Breakfast bread would not be served to her on the table, nor would she return to the comfort of her own bed at night. The innumerable small securities she’d taken advantage of at her parent’s home were becoming increasingly apparent.
Yet it was the loss of the large securities—her family members—that struck her hardest. She wasn’t just saying goodbye to her brothers; she was saying goodbye to her mentors and her friends. When she hugged each of them, she could feel her heart grow heavy. It was enough to make her second guess herself, doubting that this was the best choice for her. How could it be good? How could leaving be what she wanted if it hurt so much?
“You’ll come back, right?” Nicholas asked, holding Emily tightest.
“The moment I can, I promise,” she replied, heartfelt.
“I’m going to miss you, little sister,” Abe said, eyes wet.
“And I already miss you,” she chuckled.
Her father’s hug was warm, and he ended it with a squeeze of her shoulder and favored her with an approving smile. Emily found herself at a loss for words. Her respect for her father had always made conversation with him awkward, but he’d always found a way to speak easily with her anyway.
“I’ll wish you well,” he said, “but you won’t need it. I’ll see you soon, and know that I love you.”
“I love you, too,” Emily said with a tight throat.
Emily didn’t shed a tear until Mariam came forward and gave her daughter the gift she’d never wanted to give: an amazon bow and a quiver of arrows.
“Mother, I can’t,” Emily said. “These are yours.”
“You must, Emily. They’ve always been yours, anyway. I made this bow in the Forest of Angor for my future daughter, like all amazons do. You wouldn’t be born for several years later, but it’s yours all the same. If you insist on being an amazon, then I will treat you like one, and I’ll not have a daughter of mine traveling without a bow.”
“Thank you,” Emily managed to reply.
“You’re welcome.”
And those were the last words they spoke before Emily headed off. They were good words to leave on, Emily felt, and she hoped it was a sign that her mother had finally accepted what she had long feared the most.
On the other hand, Adelpha had clearly not accepted the decision. She walked far behind Emily and Chara, and when Emily looked back, the big amazon gave her an annoyed glare. Looking into Adelpha’s eyes, Emily felt the odd sensation o
f being unwanted—a feeling she had been spared on her parent’s farm. It felt more harrowing than it had before, when Emily was in the comfort and safety of her family’s love. Now, in spite of her previous evening’s thoughts, Emily found herself hoping that not all young amazons were like Adelpha. If they were, she was in for a very lonely journey.
Fortunately, Emily’s newfound mother was more than entertaining and certainly full of information and advice.
“We’ll change you out of those farmer’s clothes as soon as we can fashion you some suitable armor. That straw hat goes first. That would be the silliest thing to wear in the jungle or anywhere else for that matter. You look dreadfully strange, Daughter, carrying a bow and quiver in overalls and pants. Trust me, a skirt will yield such freedom that you’ll think those pants a prison. Even samurai know this to be true. What’s with that look? You’ve never heard of a samurai before? Eh, I suppose they aren’t that common. They’re from the East, a little place called Juatwa from my understanding, not that I’ve ever been there. First things first, though, after that straw hat, you’ll need to disown your last name. We amazons do not use last names.”
Emily found it easy to ditch the hat. She’d never cared much for the way it made her sweat and how the weave caught her hair. The breeze flowing through her loose strands always felt better.
The name, however? That was a different story.
“If it’s all the same, Mother,” Emily replied, “I’d like to keep the name.”
Chara looked at Emily, pursed her lips and squinted an eye. It looked to Emily like the old woman was trying to sense if this was a mere request or an act of rebellion. Both were partially correct, because Emily felt strongly on this issue. Her last name was what tied her to her brothers and father, and it was as much her name as Emily. She would not abandon it, not ever.
As luck would have it, Chara needed no explanation after seeing the look in Emily’s eyes.
