by D. Moonfire
into this valley, and I,” he thumped his chest, “can’t allow that! None of us can! We are Tachìra’s children, not Chobìre’s!”
Chimípu slipped off her embroidered jacket and folded it twice. She rested it against the rock and gently pushed Rutejìmo back. “Hold it here, Jìmo,” she whispered, “The scrapes are shallow, and it should be enough to stop the bleeding soon.”
He looked up at her feeling helpless and humiliated. He knew his brother was angry about Rutejìmo’s tooth, but he never guessed at the intensity of the response from a single necklace.
Tejíko bowed. “Then why don’t we ask Great Shimusogo Mapábyo?”
“Ask her what?” snapped Desòchu.
“If she will take it off willingly.”
“Why would she—”
“Because!” snapped Tejíko, “She is an adult in this clan now. And she has that choice.”
Gemènyo bowed. “I’ll get her, Great Shimusogo Tejíko.” He stepped back and disappeared in a cloud of dust. Rutejìmo couldn’t see the valley, and it was long moments before Hyonèku and Mapábyo appeared in blasts of wind and rocks.
Joining them was Kiríshi, Hyonèku’s wife and Mapábyo’s adopted mother. She wore her ceremonial outfit like her daughter, but the fabric had been sun-bleached to match her closely-cropped hair that had turned white in the last few years.
Mapábyo saw Rutejìmo, and her mouth opened in surprise. She gasped.
Tejíko stepped forward. “Mapábyo?”
“Y-Yes, Great Shimusògo Tejíko?” Mapábyo spoke in a low voice.
“Desòchu has taken offense at this,” Tejíko, rested one finger on Mapábyo’s collar, next to the white bone dangling at her throat. “Could you tell us why you did it?”
Mapábyo paled, though it was hard to see on her dark skin, and glanced at Rutejìmo. “I-I liked it. It was a sign that I made it, that I survived.”
“Wh—” Desòchu stepped back when Tejíko glared at him.
“And did Rutejìmo tell you to do that?”
Mapábyo clutched the necklace, and she twisted her hips. “No, I thought…” She peeked up at him and then away sharply.
“Rutejìmo is…” His grandmother struggled with her words for a moment.
Rutejìmo tensed with growing fear.
“… slightly different than most of the clan. He is cherished and loved,” she glared at Desòchu, “and is dedicated to all of us as we are to him, but he still runs his own path.”
Mapábyo’s green eyes shimmered. After a second, she nodded.
“That also means that he does things that aren’t quite the Shimusogo Way.”
Rutejìmo closed his eyes. He felt more alone than ever before, despite being surrounded by family and friends.
Chimípu’s firm hand released him, but then she patted him on the shoulder.
“Yes,” Mapábyo said, “I know, Great Shimusogo Tejíko.”
“I know that you are very proud,” Tejíko said, “and we are all very proud of you, but this,” there was a soft tapping of Tejíko’s finger against Mapábyo’s collar, “isn’t Shimusògo.”
Rutejìmo opened his eyes and saw a tear running down Mapábyo’s cheek. It tore his heart to see her in pain. He wished she would just take it off and throw it away.
The young woman nodded and drew in a shuddering breath. “I understand.”
Sniffing, she reached up and wrapped her fingers around the tooth. Closing her eyes tightly, she yanked down and snapped it from her neck.
Rutejìmo jerked at the noise, his stomach twisting and the world spinning around him. He wanted to crawl into his cave and forget the world, but he couldn’t flee.
Desòchu held out his hand.
Mapábyo reached out to drop the necklace in his hand, but then pulled back. “I-I can use them for my stones, right? To vote?”
Desòchu’s face darkened into a glare, but Tejíko spoke first. “That would be a wonderful choice. It is personal and intimate, just like everyone’s. And I’m sure that both Desòchu and Chimípu,” she looked at both warriors, “will be honored to help you find more before your second year.”
There were more tears running down Mapábyo’s cheeks, but she nodded. “Thank you, Great Shimusògo Tejíko.”
Tejíko pulled Mapábyo into a tight hug. “Now, go on a short run with Chimípu. Maybe around the outside of the valley? Your parents will be down at the fire when you come back. You don’t have to tell anyone about this, if you don’t want. And remember, we are very proud of you.”
Chimípu stood up and gestured for Mapábyo.
Mapábyo gave Rutejìmo one last, tear-filled look. And then, to his surprise, she gave a short bow before racing away.
Chimípu disappeared after her in a blur of movement and wind blew past Rutejìmo.
Desòchu stepped forward. “Great—”
Tejíko held up her hand to interrupt him. “You, boy, got what you wanted. Now, be gracious and go on a run.”
His body tight with anger, Desòchu bowed deeply. He straightened and glared at Rutejìmo. “I should have never stood with you when that bitch’s life was in our hands.” His voice was a growl that shook Rutejìmo.
He disappeared in an explosion of dust, the speed ripping the rocks and sands after him. Wind and sparks of sunlight flowed in the wake of his passing. A rumble echoed against the valley.
Tejíko nodded to Kiríshi and Hyonèku who both disappeared in a rush of air.
When they were gone, Tejíko limped over to Rutejìmo.
He shook his head. “I’m sorry, Great Shimusogo Tejíko. I didn’t mean for her to,” he gulped, “follow my path.”
Tejíko leaned against the rock and tilted Rutejìmo’s head forward to inspect his cuts. Her body smelled of spices and perfumes, a familiar smell that reminded him of growing up in her cave. After a moment, she clicked her tongue and eased him back against Chimípu’s jacket. “You were always trouble, boy.” She chuckled and patted him on the shoulder. “But we also let you get this far. I know that you still hold a shikāfu for the Pabinkúe. While I don’t like it, it is not our place to dictate your heart. I can only hope that someday you’ll set that aside and realize that your life is here in the valley, not out there chasing some horse.”
He let his fingers slip from the necklace.
“How is your head?”
Rutejìmo felt the back of his head. It was tacky but not bloody. “I’m not bleeding anymore.”
“Then it would be nice if you joined us at least for a little. You don’t have to dance but be present. Just for an hour?”
He nodded. “Yes, Great Shimusogo Tejíko.”
“And smile. Mapábyo seems to have a high opinion of you, and I would rather her have her attention entirely on her accomplishments instead of slyly looking at your cave in hopes you will join us.”
Rutejìmo stared up at her in shock. A blush burned on his cheeks. “W-What?”
Tejíko smiled broadly. “I’m still proud of you, boy. You’ve grown up. And even though Desòchu doesn’t always say it, we all love you.”
Before he could respond, she was gone in a cloud of sand and a rush of air.
Leaving the Cave
The clans of the desert don’t need locks among friends. A door, opened or closed, is simply a barrier for sand and critters, not visitors.
—Gidon Wamifuko, The Pride of the Desert
Rutejìmo woke up screaming. As he sat up, his thin blanket clung to his sweat-soaked shoulders. He reached for one of the travel lights that he kept scattered on his bed. When he couldn’t find it, he whimpered softly and used both hands to thump around the rough blankets with growing fear.
A clicking noise filled the dark. It was the familiar sound of someone winding one of the lights.
He froze, and his skin crawled. He stared into the darkness, and his nightmares welled up to paint the darkness with hidden corpses and blood. He reached out for his tazágu, his fighting spike.
The winding stopped. And then there was a tap o
f the metal striking the crystal. The flash burst through the darkness, too fast for him to focus on its source. Heart pounding in his chest, he held his breath and trembled while waiting for the worst.
When the clockwork mechanism began to strike rapidly against the crystal, a flash coming from every impact, he jumped again. His fingers caught the edge of his weapon, but it rolled away from his grip.
The soft blue glow spread out from Chimípu’s fingers and speared across the room. It lit up her smile before reaching her eyes. The bright green of her eyes appeared almost black in the azure light. “You know, Jìmo, if you’re this afraid of the dark, picking the deepest room in your cave might not be the best spot to sleep.”
Rutejìmo blushed and stopped reaching for his weapon. He sighed and felt his necklace shift across his bare chest. “Sorry.”
“For what, little brother?” Her whisper seemed to fill the room along with the light.
He gestured blindly at the tazágu.
“Oh, I wasn’t worried about that.” A golden glow spread out from her body, rising from her outline in a haze of sunlight and heat. Her smile took on a different appearance when the blue light faded. It was still playful, but there was a hardness in her green eyes.
The heat licked at Rutejìmo’s skin and he shifted uncomfortably. The sweat dried and prickled his skin, adding to his discomfort. He shifted around on his blankets. The temperature in the room rapidly increased.
For a moment, her body seemed to blur with a haze of feathers. He felt her power beating at the air around him, a pulse of running and wind blowing against his face.
Chimípu chuckled, and the flames faded to a dim glow. It clung to her body, highlighting her muscular