by K. A. Holt
It’s true that I could still help them escape while choosing to stay here. I could eat my meals at a table instead of on the floor. Boone and I could resume our secret horse races. Aunt Billie and I could study together once again. It’s just . . . I am not that Rae anymore. With the Cheese, it took being lost to start finding myself. I am discovering the true Rae, and I think her name is Mayrikafsa.
I put the rope of hair back into Papa’s box, and I make my way outside.
Temple is already outside, throwing her blanket to the scrub, preparing to sleep. I take her hand. “Not tonight, Temple. Tonight we run.”
Her eyes go as wide as I’ve ever seen. “Tonight? But why?”
“Papa is afraid there will be a rebellion if they don’t get to the sentencing right away. The people are restless. The electrical storm nears. If the townspeople do not have their revenge quenched they will turn on him.”
“Then Old Man Dan will seize control of the township.” Temple’s brow furrows.
I nod. “He may well do that anyway, if we succeed, but at least the Kihuut will be momentarily safe.”
“They will come after us, Rae.” Temple’s voice is low, hard. She sounds like Papa.
“I know.”
“They will never give up.”
“I know. But at least the Kihuut will have avoided the gallows.”
“For now.” Temple’s ominous tone crawls down my spine.
Together, we move quietly to Heetle, and lead her from the homestead, walking far enough from the cabin that we can climb on and gallop away without waking anyone.
When we get to the pen, the Kihuut are asleep, even among the dust and debris swirling in the ever-increasing winds. But after fierce whispers from me and Temple they are soon awake and alert.
“Have you seen a key anywhere?” I whisper to them in Kihuut.
“Ke’ekutaat with wheels. He wear it. Like your bibiloka,” Natka says.
How have I never noticed this before? Papa wears the key. Not smart, Mayrikafsa.
“Does the other man have a copy?” I ask. Not that it matters. Going back to the homestead or to Old Man Dan’s homestead to steal a necklace from around his or Papa’s neck is beyond impossible.
Natka shakes his head. “I have only seen one.”
“We have to get you out of here tonight,” I say. “They are going to kill you.”
Klara walks to the bars and puts her hands over mine. “You risk much, Mayrikafsa.” Hearing my Kihuut name washes over me like a healing salve. “Ebibi smile at you bravery.” Klara touches her chest and closes her eyes. I do the same.
I push at the bars. They are heavy and built deep into the ground. I do not have the tools to cut through the metal or the strength to push even one bar to the side. I think about the heavy boulders I used to push every day and I whirl around.
“Temple. We need rope.” She runs behind the scaffolding and finds a length of rope. I tie one end to a connector that is holding together the roof and bars of the pen. I tie the other end around Heetle’s middle.
“When Heetle pulls, you push,” I instruct. “All of you!”
They do as I say. But just as my heart swells with the movement of the pen, there’s an unmistakable stink and the growling of an engine. A bright light shines in my eyes.
“I knew you were up to something!” Old Man Dan shouts, jumping from his one-man. His rangy son, Pete, jumps down at his side, both training light rifles at me and Temple. “You were acting mighty cagey this afternoon. I knew I was right to trust my gut and come down here.”
“Keep pushing,” I yell, ignoring him. If the Kihuut can escape we can easily overpower Old Man Dan and Pete, even with their light rifles.
“Stop that!” Old Man Dan yells. “Or I’ll shoot you all here and now.” He shakes the rifle, as does Pete, and I hear the coils activate.
I slap Heetle’s hind end and she rears up just as a brutal gust of wind nearly knocks everyone from their feet. Between Mara, Heetle, and the weight of the Kihuut being blown into the side of the pen, there is just enough power to pull the left-hand wall down. The Kihuut stream out, cheering.
Horses and one-man vehicles appear in clouds of dust in the township center. It appears Old Man Dan did not keep his suspicions about my actions to himself. Suddenly there are weapons everywhere and we’re surrounded.
“Just give up now, girl,” Old Man Dan says. “You and your sister will be spared.”
Another one-man flies into the group, nearly running over several people, who jump out of the way. It is Papa, with Aunt Billie on his lap. She leaps from the one-man even before it is fully stopped. She is still in her nightclothes, her long hair streaming out to the side from the wind.
“Ramona! Temple! You were not in your beds. What are you doing here? What is happening?”
“We are leaving,” I say, my handbow pointed at Old Man Dan. “And we are taking our friends with us.” A lightning bolt crashes not too far away and for a moment, the crowd crouches down.
“But . . . ,” Aunt Billie yells over the growing wind. “I don’t understand.”
“They’re going to kill the Kihuut, Aunt Billie,” Temple says. “All of them!”
“But these . . . Kihuut . . . they’ve visited so much pain on us, Temple,” Aunt Billie says, her voice high pitched, pleading. “They are not without guilt.”
“They are not,” I say. Red dust swirls around my skirts, making them billow and heave, the air around us electrified with the coming storm. The Kihuut, Temple, and I all stand in a kind of horseshoe, facing the homesteaders.
I shout over the wind, “They raid us in the most brutal ways, I agree.” Natka moves next to me and takes my hand.
“They steal horses, supplies, ears, girls,” I continue. Klara moves to stand behind me. She puts her hands on my shoulders. I show everyone my scar from the Kwihuutsuu talons.
“They are violent and seem to take pride in their viciousness.” Jo moves to take my other hand. She squeezes it tight and I squeeze back.
“But they are also kind and welcoming.” Temple climbs Jo like a boulder and perches on her shoulders. “The Kihuut are proud to share this moon with others who also feel its strength coursing through their bodies.”
“Kaykalaka,” Klara intones, her voice a beautiful hum we can all feel in our chests.
“She says ‘mother,’” I say to the homesteaders. “This place, this moon, it is their mother, our mother, and they love her and protect her.”
“What about your mother, Ramona Darling?” The voice is strong, loud, coming from the back of the crowd of homesteaders. The crowd parts as Virginia walks forward, the side of her head still bandaged. She holds her baby girl to her chest. “These . . . these creatures killed your mother in cold blood. They took my girl. They took my ear. And you care not? You join their vicious band with no thought about what they’ve taken from you? Do you not comprehend that you grew up without a mother’s love and protection—because of them?”
“My mother was killed as an act of retribution after the homesteaders murdered a Kihuut warrior. If the homesteaders had not been vicious in their own right, my mother would still be alive. Did any of you care for her love and protection, or did you all put her at risk—put everyone at risk—by continuing to seek an eye for an eye?”
“False logic!” someone shouts from the crowd. “Are we to just stand by? Give them every girl-child? Give them every ear?”
The crowd is getting noisy, moving closer to us. I look up and see Temple idly tossing a stone from one hand to the next, as she remains perched on Jo’s shoulders. The look on her face tells me she is settling on a target. That would be a poor choice at this moment.
“I am not saying that at all,” I answer the crowd. “I understand the impulse for vengeance. Believe me.” My mouth is going dry. I am losing them. I do not want to fight, not li
ke I did when I first got here. I do not want there to be bloodshed. It just begets more bloodshed. There has to be a way to stop it. Or at least pause it.
In this moment, though, how can I get them to understand what I’m trying to say, when I barely understand it myself?
“What I’m trying to say is that we all should be able to live harmoniously on this moon. Humans, Kihuut . . . we have been here for enough generations that we are all born of the same place now. We all have this moon flowing in our blood. We should be able to communicate and help one another.”
“With cursed bleats and clacks? I think not.” It is shouted from the crowd and there are loud murmurs of agreement.
As the crowd pushes toward us, Jo and Natka and the other Cheese all hold themselves tense, ready to fight. I feel like A’akowitoa is urging me on, pushing me to tell these homesteaders the truths they must know.
“It’s interesting how violence begets violence, don’t you think?” I continue, trying to ignore the angry shouts, trying to ignore the quickening pulses, trying to ignore the fact that I am losing the Kihuut, too. Their happiness at being free is being rapidly replaced by rage. They are ready to take ears at a moment’s notice.
I cast a wary look at my brethren. “Perhaps, the Kihuut would not steal ears or girls if they had been afforded common human decency when our people crashed onto this moon.” Natka clacks his lip to his teeth, sneering at the crowd. Many in the crowd sneer back.
“Common decency?” a man shouts. “Our people landed on this moon and were then immediately and unceremoniously fed to devilish beasts! Our supplies are constantly raided. Our fields ransacked.”
“Perhaps they would not steal supplies if the humans had not ruined their trading customs by killing off and scaring away the surviving people of the Red Crescent.” I try to keep my answers calm. But it is difficult, especially as I watch the crowd shuffle closer, and I hear the constant thwap-thwap of Temple continuing to toss her stone from hand to hand.
“They steal our girls, Ramona,” Virginia cries out, clutching her baby daughter. “They stole you. How can you support that? How?”
“I don’t support it. I promise I don’t. But please think about this: Perhaps the Kihuut would not target female children born of this moon if they were still able to bear their own female children.” Klara squeezes my shoulders. “Did you know that they were rendered nearly barren by a germ unleashed by humans? The same germ that accidentally killed the people of the Red Crescent? That killed all chances of the Kihuut’s continued trade and communication with that planet? Perhaps they would be more amenable to sharing this moon if humans had not stolen so much from them.”
There is a murmur growing in the crowd at these revelations, and then the crash of another bolt sends half the crowd scurrying for cover.
“So, yes, Virginia. Yes, Aunt Billie. Yes, everyone,” I yell over the wind. “The Cheese, the Kihuut . . . they are violent. They are angry. They are not without guilt. But neither are we.” I let go of Jo’s hand, pointing at the crowd now, and as another bolt strikes dangerously close by, I yell, “You do not get to judge, lest you be judged as well.”
A noise comes up from the crowd, and people regard each other with confused looks.
“Enough of this,” Papa says. Aunt Billie stands next to him, her hand on his shoulder, almost protective. His face is pale. He opens his mouth to say something, closes it, and then says loudly, for the entire crowd to hear, “I am so disappointed. I thought you’d enjoyed your rehabilitation. I thought you’d made your choice to stand by my side.” He looks to Aunt Billie and then to me. “To stand by our side. To grow as a healer. To rise up as a leader of this red moon. I guess I was mistaken.” He wheels closer to me and holds out his hand. “Give me the handbow.” I reach into my peltan and remove the reverend apprentice star I was intending to bring with me, to remind me of what could have been. I place it in the palm of his hand and close both my hands around his.
“You can have the pin back, but I’m keeping the bow.” My voice is low. His hands are warm in mine. I feel them relax ever so slightly before he pulls me close to him. He whispers, “I heard the boy Cheese call you sister, you know. You forget I used to speak with his father quite often.” He releases me and I stand back, startled.
We regard each other for a moment, and I think I see a flicker of something in his eyes. Not hatred. Not mistrust. But maybe the tiny spark that led him to secretly befriend Fist all those summers ago. Papa might not admit it publicly, but I think deep down he, too, would see a peace between our two peoples.
I pull the whistle from my pocket and blow.
“What was that she said about killing people of the Red Crescent?” someone from the crowd shouts at Papa. Other people follow, shouting, “Yes! What did she say? Germs as weapons?”
Everyone is suddenly just as restless as the wind. The humans still have their weapons aimed at us, but are now distracted and murmuring among themselves. They outnumber us and outarm us, but they are losing focus as my words settle over them and as the electrical bolts increase.
I blow the whistle again.
“I promise this will not be the last time you see me,” I say over the noise. I know not everyone can hear me, or wants to hear me, but for those who can, I try to speak loudly.
Someone shouts, “Don’t you threaten us, girl!” and I am mortified.
“No, no! I don’t mean that as a threat,” I say. “I mean that, if you will have us, Temple and I will come back to visit.”
“Speak for yourself,” Temple huffs. I shoot her a look.
“You’ll come back for more babies!” a woman shouts. “More ears!”
Have they not been listening? “No! Not for more babies or ears! We brought back the baby. I will do my best to stop the raids. You have to believe me.” I hear angry bursts of breath from many of the Cheese. Natka regards me like my hair is on fire.
There is stony silence from the humans who are listening.
“Is it too naive to think humans and Kihuut can put aside decades of eye-for-an-eye fighting and work together?” Everyone is restless. I am not sure they are listening anymore. Jo looks at me and gives a rueful shake of her head.
Everyone, Kihuut included, ducks from a loud crashing boom. The storm is nearly here. I lean over to Papa and say, “I can still grow to be a leader of this red moon, Papa. Truly I can try.”
There is a series of deafening shrieks as the largest Kwihuutsuu any of these people have likely ever seen dives into the group. The people scatter, screaming, powering up weapons.
Then there is another shriek and the second Kwihuutsuu arrives.
“On the wings of angels, Papa,” I say as he wheels his chair far away from the snapping, still mostly wild creatures. “So many answers are found on the wings of angels.”
The Kihuut and Temple are already clamoring onto the beasts, and much to my pleased surprise, the beasts are allowing it. I hop on, too, and we are all barely hanging on to each other as the Kwihuutsuu take to the skies amid electrical bolts.
“I’m sorry for leaving, Aunt Billie,” I yell down, not knowing if she can hear me. “But please find solace in the fact that this time it is of my own choosing. I’m trying to make everything better for everyone. Please trust me.”
Through the swirling red dust, I see Ben-ton looking up at us. He waggles his fingers, reaches behind his ear, and then throws something at me. I reach down and pull it from the air. My bibiloka necklace. I tie it around my neck and hold my hand up in thanks.
Perhaps he has seen why it is not best for me and Temple to stay here. Perhaps he realizes the township does not afford the life he dreamed it would.
I nudge the huge Kwihuutsuu with my knees and she takes to the sky, the whoomph of her wings adding even more swirls in the clouds of dust on the ground.
Natka claps me on the back, smiling. Klara reaches ove
r his shoulder to squeeze mine. Temple is on the smaller Kwihuutsuu, waving madly at us, shrieking along with the beasts as they climb higher and higher.
I tear at my nightdress, ripping it off, exposing the peltan, feeling the wind whip over my arms and neck. Feeling free. Just as it should be. We steer the Kwihuutsuu toward Maasakota, catching a glimpse of the Darling homestead and its field. There is a boy, wearing gogs, looking up at us. Boone. It must be.
As soon as I make the decision, I know it’s reckless. The storm is upon us, I know this, but I kick at the Kwihuutsuu, slowing her down and skidding her to land several hands from Boone. He does not run as we approach. He does not aim his weapon. He stands motionless, gogs still smashed on one side, arms hanging loose.
I leap from the animal, ignoring the cries of protest from the Kihuut, and run to Boone. Before he can say anything I grasp him tightly in a hug. I smell the fields on him, the dirt in his hair. I smell his Boone-ness, his boyness. A smell I have missed so much.
“I am going back,” I say in his ear. “I will try to live up to Kamino’s memory.”
I pull the armless statue from my peltan and press it into his hands.
“Fix her for me, please? I promise to come back for her.”
Boone nods, his eyes full, his lips quirked into a frown on one side and a smile on the other. “Always so bossy,” he says.
I nod, a rock growing in my throat.
And then I am back on the Kwihuutsuu. And we are over the ruined Origin. And over the lone shine tree. And over to the other side of the moon.
