Captive Spirit (8 page)

I didn’t complain. I didn’t dare, especially seated so close to Alfonso who never lost the tightness around his lips.

I was glad for anything. I scooped every last bit inside the pot with my fingers even though my stomach still growled when I swallowed the last drop.

“Tomorrow we will snare a rabbit,” Diego said to the men as he slurped his stew. His tone was oddly jovial and so different from his companions. “Tomorrow we will eat like kings.”

Kings?
I thought.
What are kings?

Jorge nodded and Alfonso grunted as if to say there wouldn’t be time. I stayed next to the fire, kneeling, listening to them talk. I only understood bits and pieces of their conversation, something about furs and beads and a people called the Apache. I wanted to ask Diego about the Apache. Who were they? What were they? And where was their village? I barely breathed, waiting for more detail. But they didn’t talk nearly as long as I’d hoped.

Then Diego pulled something square-shaped from one of the sacks. At first I thought it was a small piece of tan deerskin but he proceeded to unfold it so that it stretched on the ground between the men. It crinkled like a dry leaf with each piece he unfolded. Its edges were frayed. I leaned forward, closer to the firelight, mesmerized.

“We’re here.” Diego pointed to a corner with his finger. “We must be here by tomorrow.” His finger traced confusing symbols, black square lines that crossed each other in strange ways, before his finger stopped in the middle. The symbols looked nothing like the intricate pictures that Onawa and Eyota carved on the sides of pit houses and boulders to mark the passage of the seasons.

I badly wanted a better look at Diego’s tan deerskin. Could the World Beyond fit so easily on one small square?

Alfonso grunted and then he glanced up and caught me leaning closer. “What are you looking at?” he snarled.

Diego rolled his eyes. “Go easy on the girl, Alfonso.” He chuckled. “That one is going to bring us luck.” His thick black eyebrows wiggled in a way that knotted my stomach.

That one
. It rolled too casually off his tongue.

Still shiny from the stew, Alfonso’s lips fluttered. “Luck?” His neck pulled back as he studied Diego. “She’s already cost us two extra days in this god-forsaken place. Two days that we hadn’t planned on. We didn’t need her. Taking her was a mistake.”

From his tone, I half-expected him to suggest that they abandon me on the side of their strange mountain. My breathing quickened with the new possibility. It wouldn’t be easy to return to my village but I was sure I could do it. I’d gladly take my chances. And I’d even dropped shells to guide my way back…

But my hopes were quickly crushed. “I disagree, old friend.” He paused, looked sideways at Alfonso and then said, “You know how generous Manaba can be when we bring him a special trinket. We were lucky when she ran off.” He smiled at me before turning to Alfonso. “And what would you have us do when we saw they had so little to trade? What would we do with a few pumpkins and dry stalks of corn? We certainly couldn’t meet up with the Apache empty-handed.”

Alfonso’s eyebrow arched, considering this. Then a crooked grin spread across his face that made my teeth clench. “Savage,” he spat. “I’m glad we burned their rotting fields.”

My skin turned hot as Diego laughed and even quiet Jorge smiled, a first.

“It did make our departure that much easier,” Diego said. “By the time they realize she’s missing, they’ll never know where to look.” Then he reached for a lock of my hair, and I flinched. But he grabbed the strand anyway and rubbed it between his fingers. “Pity we didn’t take more.” With a sigh, his hand dropped to his side.

More? Take more of them? My people?

I glared back at the men, rage building inside my chest, as my breathing quickened. Alfonso’s tongue dragged across his lips, relishing the anguish my expression so clearly revealed. Diego’s eyes continued to dance with delight as Jorge’s gaze met mine but then quickly lowered, as if he knew something more but wished he didn’t.

I finally blinked when Alfonso tossed his cup at my feet. “Enough talk,” he said, signaling that the meal—and all discussion—were over. “Sleep, now.”

Diego proceeded to carefully fold the tan deerskin before he tucked it back inside one of his sacks. I made note of which one. It was the smallest one that hung on the side of his horse, the one he always kept close.

Still numb, I collected the other cups and tried to clean the pot with some dry leaves but Alfonso grew impatient and ripped it from my hands before tossing it into one of the deerskin sacks. Not knowing what else to do, I added more branches and leaves to the fire, mostly for warmth. My teeth began to chatter and I had to bite down on my lower lip to stop it.

Across from me, the men laid back against their elbows with their feet stretched out near the fire while Jorge pulled a wooden flute from his pocket. In the firelight, I could see that the flute was as long as his hand and thin as my finger. The wood was a soft yellow, like unripe corn. Shiny, it also looked as delicate as one of the many flutes that Onawa’s slender fingers had carved.

Jorge’s fingertips began to float across the small holes, barely touching them. He played a song so sad that my chest ached. I turned when my eyes clouded and fiddled with the branches next to the fire until the song stopped. Then Jorge returned his flute back to his pocket, laid his head back, and began snoring almost immediately.

Diego was the last one to fall asleep. He emptied one of the deerskin sacks and offered it to me. I took it. My teeth chattered and trembled at the same time as the sky grew windless and pitch-black. The fire crackled and coyotes howled in the distance.

“Sleep,” Diego said to me. “Sleep now. Tomorrow will be a long day, longer than today, I’m afraid.”

I spread the deerskin sack so that it lay flat on the ground. The ground was hard and cold. The sack helped but not much. I curled into a ball and brought one half of the sack over my shoulder as far as it would stretch. It smelled sharp, like the dried meat still tucked inside my belt. I only stared at the fire for a moment longer before my eyelids grew heavy with exhaustion and for that I was thankful. Tomorrow was another day to plan my escape. The sooner I fell asleep, the sooner I could run. I had to return to my village. I just had to.

Sometime during the night, Lobo returned from the forest and curled his body against my back. I’d never felt air so thin or cold, not even during the Season of Shorter Days. If not for Lobo, I would have certainly frozen to death in my sleep.

The next morning, my eyes popped open like I’d been kicked in the stomach.

A thin layer of white covered the deerskin sack that barely stretched across my body. At first I thought a wind had blown in tiny white flower petals, but from where? The plants and trees that surrounded us were only shades of green. The white felt wet and prickly cold and coated my hair and eyelids. I brushed it off quickly, unsure what it was. Was it sand? Another trick?

But no sooner did I brush it off before it covered me again. I looked to the sky for answers. The sky was grey and the white cold sand fell from the sky like rain. I’d never seen anything like it.

“Snow,” Diego said, stretching forward into a sitting position. He watched me, amused, yawning as he spoke. “Have you never seen snow before?” His voice was incredulous.

I shook my head. “Snow,” I repeated as I opened my palm and watched the fine sand land on my hand and turn into clear water droplets.

Diego’s fingers scratched his cheeks. The dark stubble around his mouth had grown thicker. “Well, then. I guess you haven’t. It won’t hurt you. It’s like rain that’s turned to ice. Surely, you’ve seen rain?” His fingers fluttered in front of him.

I nodded. Rain I’d seen plenty of times, although not as much during the last two Seasons of Longer Days. I turned my face upwards again, mesmerized, and watched the snow swirl down all around us. Oddly, I opened my mouth and stuck out my tongue. Snow was tasteless. Like water.

But the snow was gloriously wet and I was thirsty. Like Diego, Lobo also watched me curiously. His coat was covered with snow but he didn’t shiver. His fur was so thick that the snow couldn’t possibly penetrate his skin. I envied him. What I would have given for one of Gaho’s fur blankets.

Alfonso stirred from underneath his hat. He lifted it and then cursed at the sky before stumbling to a standing position. He shuffled off behind a tree, grumbling, and fiddled with the front of his dusty pants. I turned away, ignoring him. The less we acknowledged the other’s existence, the better.

“Why don’t you start a fire,” he made a rubbing motion with his forefingers, “and I’ll check the snares to see if we’ll be eating rabbit.”

My stomach growled even before I could nod.

Rabbit
, I understood. And any kind of food sounded glorious. More than that, it was urgent that I eat more than just a few morsels of dried meat. My stomach had growled all night. And it only grew louder as my insides turned hollow. I would need to eat more to regain my strength so that I could leave the World Beyond and journey home. It would mean walking for at least one moon cycle, maybe two. I tried not to dwell on the dangers, especially as they surrounded me. Alfonso had empty eyes like Miakoda. It would only be a matter of a few more passing suns before his fists found me, just like his foot found Lobo.

Lobo
.

My hands reached behind me and found Lobo.

He whimpered.

As soon as Diego left to check his snare, my fingers felt for the strip of dried meat still hidden behind my belt. Carefully, I broke it into two pieces and shared half with Lobo. He licked my hand after he swallowed his piece in one easy gulp, and I couldn’t help but scratch the sides of his face as I savored the other small piece between my teeth. Lobo moaned between my hands.

But then Diego whistled for him and Lobo trotted off, leaving me alone to start another fire. It was harder this time. The leaves were wet; the wood, not as grey. And my feet were cold and bare. If I was to escape, I needed something to protect my feet.

All three of the men were missing. Diego was checking on his snare, Alfonso was somewhere behind a bush or a tree, and Jorge was tending to the horses.

I was alone. My breathing quickened.

I rose and then walked away backwards a few steps till I was certain that no one was watching.

I wove slowly between the bushes and trees, crouching low to stay hidden. The further away from the horses and the deerskin sacks, the more invisible I became. Most of the trees were lush and green and taller than I. When I stood behind one, it completely covered me, although the tips of the leaves pricked my skin like saguaro needles whenever I brushed too close.

“Aiyana!” Diego yelled, startling me. His voice wasn’t close but it was close enough.

I swallowed and circled in place. Where to next? It would be so easy to escape. I wanted so badly to run. But how far could I get without protection for my feet? My teeth began to chatter and my hands pressed anxiously against my neck.

My necklace.

Yes…

Quickly, I untied my necklace and pulled another shell from the cord.

“Aiyana! We need a fire,” Diego yelled. “Now!”

Lobo barked. And just like Diego’s voice, the barks grew closer.

With trembling fingers, I yanked one of the braided tassels from the ends of my dress. Then I threaded it through the shell, almost dropping it at first. My fingers trembled from fear as much as from cold.

“Aiyana!” Diego yelled again, this time angry.

“Yes!” I yelled back. My voice cracked and sounded too forced, even to my ears.

I didn’t have much time.

Frantically, my eyes scanned the branches. I found one eye level with me. There I hung the shell and wrapped the thread around a thin branch three times, not caring that the leaves poked my fingertip. Blood dribbled down my hand but I spun away from the tree before leaping over a small bush. I dropped to the ground, landing on my palms.

“Aiyana!” Diego yelled again, louder this time. Lobo barked alongside him, drowning out everything else.

Their footsteps got closer and my temples pounded.

When they reached me, I was crouched on the ground and reaching underneath a bush. Lobo immediately ran to my side and began nuzzling my neck as if I had been gone for ten suns instead of only a handful of heartbeats.

“Didn’t you hear me calling?”

“Yes,” I said quickly. My throat was dry. “I was…I was just trying to find dryer branches to start the fire.”

Diego’s head tilted, considering this. Did he understand my words? Did he believe me? If he noticed the blood on my hand, he didn’t say.

I begged Hunab Ku to keep Diego’s eyes from spotting my hanging shell. It hung only three footsteps from where he found me.

“Good. Because we need a fire for the rabbit,” he said as his eyes narrowed over my head. He looked as if he sensed danger, and a line of goose bumps raced down my back. Did he see the shell? Was I too obvious?

But then I slowly stood and clutched three dry branches against my chest as if they would keep me from drowning. I fidgeted from one foot to the other, trying to warm my feet. They were bright red and as cold as the tip of my nose.

I sniffed.

Diego’s eyes lowered to my feet. “Yes, well, dryer branches would be better.”

“My feet are so cold,” I said, anxious to pull him away from the tree, back to horses, back to the fire. “May I have something for my feet?”

Diego sighed but then his lips pursed. “That is why I gave you the rabbit skins. The night you tried to run.”

I swallowed, remembering. And who knew how far I would have gotten if Diego hadn’t found me. Or Lobo. I should hate Lobo with his perfect hearing and sense of smell. But I couldn’t.

Diego’s voice softened. He stepped closer and placed his hand on my shoulder, squeezing it. “Will you try to run again?”

I blinked then I shook my head, obediently.

“Promise?” His voice turned silky.

I swallowed hard, nodding.

“Good,” he said, as his eyes studied mine, narrowing and then widening. “You have beautiful eyes, Aiyana. I didn’t notice them before. They’re green.” His voice trailed off as he drew me closer by the shoulders.

My eyes lowered when I felt my cheeks burn. The touch of his hand on my shoulder made me nervous, even anxious. Truth be told, it sickened me.

“As green as the pine trees. As green as the forest,” he added, a curious smile in his voice.

I couldn’t raise my eyes to his.

He finally dropped his hands. But instead of falling to his side, his hand reached for my chin so that I had to look at him.

“Aiyana,” he said. “Why won’t you look at me? I won’t hurt you.”

My body stiffened. I didn’t believe him. He’d already hurt me; he took me from my home. He burned my village.

“Then it’s settled,” he said, his cold fingers underneath my chin. “After we eat, you will have something for your feet. I can’t have you freeze to death.”

And then he let go of my chin.

I swallowed and forced myself to say, “Thank you.” The words tasted bitter. And before I could stop myself, I asked, “Why would you be so kind?”

Diego wouldn’t answer. He simply took me by the elbow and led me back to the horses and his friends.

I supposed if he could lie to me than I could lie to him. I had every intention of escaping again. Nothing, not even a belated kindness, would stop me from returning to my village or despising him.

***

The second moon’s rise was better than the first but hardly easy. With each step higher into the mountains, I was that much further from my village.

At least with a full belly of rabbit and bits of dried meat, my vision wasn’t as blurry, and my body didn’t ache so much from the cold. I wrapped the rabbit pelts around my feet with the cord that had been tied around my wrists. A deerskin sack served as a thin blanket over my back and shoulders. And I knew that my escape was fast approaching. Any longer and our horses would reach the top of a mountain that seemed to disappear into the clouds. I feared that once we crossed that ridge, I could never return.

As the horses climbed, the trees grew thicker and taller. The bright greens from the leaves and the grasses were almost blinding except for the occasional golden yellows and muted reds that looked out of place on the same branches. And the trees stretched as high as the mountain itself, with skinny brown trunks that grew straight into the air. I marveled at their ability to stay upright without falling. It seemed even the gentlest wind could topple them.

And the wind. The wind on the giant mountain never stopped howling. When I tilted my head, the cold air brushed across my ears. It was like listening to a hundred voices all whispering at once. Once I thought I heard Gaho call my name.

Because of the wind, I didn’t dare drop another shell to the dirt. The wind and the knee-high grasses would only bury it forever.

My eyes constantly studied the ground and the trees for things to eat and places to hide. I needed them both when I escaped. But we hadn’t crossed a stream or a river. Unless the mountain trees held water in their branches the same way the saguaros did, I’d die of thirst. I decided that I’d need to steal one of Diego’s deerskin water pouches. Would they miss just one?

But then it was as if Hunab Ku himself heard the thoughts spinning inside my head.

“There is a small stream up ahead,” Diego announced, pointing past the shoulders of Jorge and Alfonso. “It’s on the map.” He patted the deerskin sack hanging closest to his leg.

Map
. So that’s what they called their strange black symbols, symbols that tell a man where to go. I turned my head into the wind and heard rushing water. I closed my eyes and inhaled the cold damp air. The faint scent of moisture tickled the inside of my nose. It was definitely water. I could smell it.

“We’ll stop there,” Diego said. The horses’ skinny legs began to move with new purpose, as if they smelled water and rest, too. “This is where we’ll camp for the night.” I nodded obligingly and then Diego continued. “Can you fish?”

“Fish?” I blurted.

“Yes,” he said. He pressed his fingers together and made a curvy motion with his hands.

The corners of my mouth turned up in a tentative smile. I thought about all of the hours I spent with Honovi at the river. He taught me how to spear even the tiniest of silver fish with nothing but a sharpened reed. I was never as fast or as strong, but unlike Honovi, I was patient. I never returned to Gaho empty-handed and for that she, begrudgingly, allowed me to fish.

“I can fish,” I said finally, careful not to react too boastfully. If I could fish, then I could survive.

“Good,” Diego said. “That would be most helpful tonight. I’m tired of eating rabbits and squirrels.” He grimaced while I tried to suppress my enthusiasm. “Fish will be a nice change for us. Haven’t had fish since we left the outskirts of your fine village—”

Diego stopped himself when my expression darkened. I wondered how long he and his men had been hidden in the deserts that surrounded my village. Why couldn’t they have just kept riding? Why couldn’t they have left us in peace? I didn’t understand the hearts of these strange men.

Diego scratched the side of his head, turned abruptly, and caught up with Alfonso.

“Stay with her,” he instructed Jorge.

Jorge nodded and then started to fidget in place.

Diego and Alfonso led the horses to one end of the stream that pooled at the bottom in a perfect circle. Water cascaded down a narrow cliff and my chest caved forward, watching it. The cliff’s jagged edges were covered with trees and vines and reddish brown rocks like the ones that surrounded my village. And if the water wasn’t so cold, I would have gladly dove in and bathed. My deerskin still reeked of smoke and my hair was knotted and smelled like the horses.

Without a word to Jorge, I turned for the other end of the stream carrying the empty deerskin water pouches. Jorge followed, saying nothing. If he could stop staring at me long enough, I’d try to sneak a filled water pouch down the front of my dress. It had grown loose around my waist. Surely one small pouch could go unnoticed.

The clear stream rushed over glistening red and brown rocks where the late afternoon sunlight was lucky to pierce through the tops of the trees that hid it from the sky. The water gushed so loudly that it drowned out the wind.

Alongside me, Jorge knelt over the stream and began to fill the pouches that I lined next to the edge. I kept the tiniest one next to my foot and saved it for last. After I filled it, I tucked it close to my leg and then I bent over the stream and begin to cup water into my hands. I wanted to shriek from the cold. It stiffened my fingers but I kept cupping it anyway, splashing it over my face and neck and drinking till my lips turned numb. My skin prickled from the iciness of it, even the parts where the water didn’t touch.