by Liz Fichera
Only one remained.
After Manaba and his wives slipped back inside their house and the other Apache returned to their own homes and daily activities, I was left uncharacteristically alone outside.
On purpose? Was this another test? I wondered.
Test or not, it wasn’t an opportunity I intended to waste.
I walked to the other end of the village to the healer’s house. Heavy smoke continued to billow in grey and white clouds from the hole at the top. Another Apache, a broader one with an even sterner face, stood guard at the entrance. It was so tempting to simply walk past him and march right into the healer’s house and demand to see Honovi, but I knew how my efforts would be rewarded. It would only end badly. I would be labeled a foolish girl and banished to Manaba’s house until my third challenge began. Or worse, perhaps I would be beaten.
And I couldn’t take the chance of angering the healer or Manaba, not when I was so close. No, I needed to rely on Doli to deliver my shell to Honovi. Honovi would understand its meaning.
So instead I walked in a large circle around the healer’s house, picturing Honovi inside. Was he sleeping? Awake? Was he better? Was that his face at the race? Or was I dizzy from exhaustion?
Instead of stopping, I walked past the healer’s house till I reached the last row of dwellings closest to the creek. I proceeded to the furthest end of the creek near the waterfall for some privacy and a bath.
It was there that I found him, sitting propped up against a willow tree, sleeping.
Diego.
He was snoring. Loudly. The sounds from his mouth and nose drowned out most of the gentle babble from the creek. His lips fluttered and sputtered whenever he drew back a breath. He sounded just like an ornery javalina.
Diego’s long legs were extended and crossed casually at the ankles. His feet were bare; his boots sat next to the tree. His arms hung haphazardly at his sides as if they had grown tired of hugging his growing girth. His dusty black hat covered the front of his face, and Lobo was missing. There was no one else near the tree except Diego and me.
I stood at his feet, watching. Waiting for him to stir. But only his lips sputtered from all of his snoring and wheezing.
Carefully, I crept to his side and studied his shirt. It was dotted with elk fat and berry stains and I grimaced. He snored like javalina and ate like one, too. His belly rolled over his belt with each exhale. He looked like a bloated fish.
I crouched over him, lower, studying his opened shirt.
And I barely allowed myself a breath when I saw it: the pouch filled with shiny stones. It peeked at me from inside his shirt.
It would be so easy, I thought.
My eyes darted alongside the creek.
Empty.
And then past the tree.
There wasn’t a single Apache anywhere.
Just Diego and me. And his pouch of precious stones.
I swallowed, hard.
Carefully, my fingertips felt the opening of his shirt. The fabric was rough like sand and smelled of smoke and sweat like the rest of him. My nose tickled from his stench but I didn’t dare breathe too deeply.
Slowly, quietly, I opened his shirt wider with the bottom of my thumb, till the pouch was almost completely exposed. I grazed it with my fingertips. I could feel the outline of the hard stones inside.
Suddenly, Diego snorted and my hand snapped back.
What would I say if he suddenly woke? My mind raced. Manaba suddenly requires a translator?
But Diego’s snorting returned to steady snoring and I had to squeeze my eyes shut for a heartbeat to regain my nerve. Then I watched his shiny wine-stained lips part with each breath.
It would be so easy…
I just need to get close enough.
My fingertips reached for the pouch again. It rose and fell on his chest, light as sand. With my thumb and forefinger, I slowly, carefully, quietly, began to slide it away from his shirt.
At first, I barely moved it the width of a tiny black hair on his chest.
But then I got braver when most of the pouch was exposed. I slid it to the middle of his chest, careful not to let it rest too heavy against his skin and startle him.
I smiled when I had the pouch squarely in my palm. I lifted it, just as his chest exhaled from another breath. I smiled at the pouch. The deerskin was dusty and dirty, exactly like his shirt, but inside it contained everything I needed.
Clutching the pouch in my hand, I began to back away from his body, first one toe, then the ball of my foot, then my heel, over twigs and pebbles, never making the slightest sound. It was like I became a cloud, weightless and silent. Even Honovi would be impressed.
Honovi.
All of the triumph in my smile disappeared.
Just as Diego stirred.
As his lips slapped together, I leapt behind the tree, wincing when I landed too heavy on a twig.
Crack!
The dry stick broke in two underneath my foot.
The tree, mercifully, was wide enough to hide me completely. I crouched behind it, waiting, hoping, begging Hunab Ku to protect me.
But then I smiled at the sky when Diego’s snores returned, drowning out all the other sounds around us.
Just as I was about to turn on tiptoe for Manaba’s house, a sliver of something shiny flashed across my eyes. It poked out from Diego’s shoe. And it baited me for a closer look.
Curious, I bent closer for a better look.
It was Diego’s knife, the one with a shiny point and handle as smooth as Gaho’s skin.
The knife that almost killed Honovi.
A quiet rage brewed all over again inside my chest when I remembered Diego’s cold hands on my skin and how they wrapped so cruelly around Honovi’s neck.
I had to have it.
The knife would be useful, too, I thought quickly, suppressing the memory of that night, mostly to stay calm. There will come a wiser time for revenge.
Sucking back a breath, I slinked backwards around the tree, one toe at a time. My skin grazed the raised bark edges until I finally reached Diego’s shoes. Like everything else he wore, his strange black shoes were dusty and stained. Carefully, I bent over his shoe and waited for him to stir. If it was possible, his snores grew louder. Without much additional effort, they could silence the entire forest.
But then, quick as a lightning bolt, I reached inside his shoe and plucked out his knife before Diego inhaled his next greedy breath.
I stuffed the pouch and the knife inside the front of my dress and tightened my belt to hold them against my chest.
And then without so much as another glance at Diego, I raced back to Manaba’s house, my feet barely touching the ground.
Now Diego will need me more than I’ll need him.
Chapter Twenty-One
The final challenge had begun.
Before the orange glow from the sun had almost completely disappeared behind the treetops on Apache Mountain, Manaba and his people gathered at the edge of the clearing that lined the forest. They stood around me in a half-circle. Even Haloke stood with her village to wish me well and nodded when I spotted her.
The air had turned colder for my departure and the howling wind, unfortunately, hadn’t faded with the sun. Manaba stood beside me, his hair flying wildly behind his shoulders, while Olathe and Doli maintained their usual positions on his other side.
Diego stood beside us, waiting, but not really wanting, to continue his role as translator. Maybe it was the way his nostrils flared whenever he looked at me. He didn’t try to hide his anger. No, his bloodshot eyes blazed at me as Manaba spoke.
I expected it.
When Manaba paused, Diego translated, but reluctantly.
Clearly he had discovered, after awakening from his drunken stupor, his missing pouch of precious stones.
And he knew by my tight-lipped smile that I was the thief.
In a satisfying way, having that knowledge over him—that power of having something he desperately
needed—made me feel stronger. My chin pointed toward him defiantly as I waited for his translation.
“You must return by the rise of the third moon with enough fresh meat to feed my wives and children,” Diego said. But then he quickly added in almost the same voice, the same flat, steady tone, “I know you stole my stones, Aiyana. I want them back.” It didn’t matter that Diego spoke so openly; the Apache didn’t understand him. As far as Manaba was concerned, Diego was translating his instructions, word for careful word.
I expected Diego’s question and I wouldn’t allow myself to flinch from it. Instead, I reveled in the anxiety that filled his glassy eyes. I continued, in fact, to smile calmly, warmly, even when I said, “You stole much more from me and my people than a handful of gold stones. I’d say that makes us even.”
Diego’s nostrils flared but Manaba spoke again, oblivious.
Diego translated, not that he needed to. I already knew the rules of the third challenge.
“You will be given our best bow and three warrior arrows,” Diego said.
I tugged on the quiver that hugged my back, acknowledging this, but in addition to the three arrows, I hid Diego’s knife at the bottom when no one was looking.
“If you do not return from the forest by the rise of the third moon,” Diego continued, uncharacteristically flustered, “Honovi will be killed.” He cleared his throat and added quickly, as if it was still part of Manaba’s instructions. “Why’d you do it, Aiyana? What do you want from me?”
“I don’t want you to leave this village until I get back,” I said flatly. “Be here when I return and you’ll have your stones.” If Diego left, he would have taken one of the horses, the bigger of the two, after having traded the other one to Manaba. I couldn’t let that happen. I needed his beast.
Diego’s chin pulled back, surprised by my explanation. And then he grinned. “Ah,” he said, as he tugged on the curly hair that covered his chin. “So, it’s me you want then after all, eh? Already giving up on your young Honovi? Well, I’m touched. And honored.” He made a show of bowing his forehead, just slightly.
It was difficult not to spit in Diego’s face. The smarmy grin underneath the glint in his eyes only made me want to do it more. It was just like Diego to be so smug as to think that I’d actually want him—even desire him—after everything he’d done. I was beginning to understand him more than I ever wanted. He was pure evil. Was his village filled with men like him? I couldn’t even fathom it.
I cleared my throat when Diego’s grin refused to fade. “Yes,” I said finally, swallowing. “Something like that.”
“How do I know you’re telling the truth?” Diego said. His eyebrow arched. “How will you know I won’t come after you and claim you and the gold for myself?”
“I don’t need to understand Apache to know that any of Manaba’s warriors, or Manaba himself, will kill you with his own hands if you try to come after me. You see the men who guard the village.” My eyes flickered above us to the two men who stood faithfully on either side of the red cliff that towered over the village. Their eyes never stopped scanning the clearing or the forest for danger. “And you know the rules, Diego. This is my challenge. It’s up to me to return victorious. No one is allowed to help me. Not even an outsider like you.”
Diego tilted his head, considering his dilemma, while Manaba’s eyes narrowed and then darted between Diego and me. He was starting to become suspicious. Ignoring them both, I turned to Olathe and Doli. I extended my arms. Doli smiled warmly and stepped forward. She hugged me immediately and kissed my cheek. Reluctantly, she let me go.
Then I tugged playfully on my bearskin cape and nodded to Olathe over Doli’s shoulder. “Thank you for lending me your beautiful cape, Olathe. I am sure it will keep me warm when the night grows colder.”
Olathe nodded. Her children, Leotie and Nascha, the same ones who shared my sleeping mat and kept me warm at night, peered at me curiously from behind her legs. I winked at them and they giggled.
I turned back to Doli, the one person I hated leaving most of all. In so many ways, she reminded me of Chenoa. Her eyes leaked more tears and my throat thickened. “Thank you for the extra deerskins.” I glanced down at my wrapped feet, grateful. My voice cracked slightly. “My toes will never feel the chill.”
Doli nodded but then, carefully, I pulled her close so that my lips touched her ear. I whispered, “Did you give my shell to Honovi?” Slowly, I pulled away and tried to read her expressive eyes. Her lashes practically touched her thick eyebrows. I knew that she didn’t understand my words but I figured that her eyes, certainly, would tell me what I needed to know most of all.
Doli nodded again, once, and I had to bite down on my lower lip to hide my excitement. She did it! She saw Honovi! I knew I could count on my Apache sister.
She hugged me again and whispered something in my own language against my ear. “Honovi come. Honovi wait,” she added with some difficulty. The words were not easy for her and my arms stiffened around her.
Come? Wait? What did she mean?
I pulled back and swallowed again as Doli slipped away from my arms. Her fingertips were the last that I felt. Unfortunately there was no time to ask for a clearer explanation or new words that would make more sense. And certainly asking Diego for a translation was out of the question.
Behind me, Manaba spoke again, louder, and my back straightened.
He handed me a wooden bow that was almost as tall as I was. I reached for it with one hand. I knew that it was one of the finest wooden bows crafted in his village. His voice boomed across the clearing one last time, slicing through the wind, as his hair whipped behind him.
“It’s time,” Diego translated. “You must enter the forest before dark.”
I turned back toward Manaba and the rest of the Apache. Manaba spoke again.
“May the Creator protect you,” Diego said and Manaba nodded. “What about my stones, Aiyana?” Diego added, careful not to let his urgency expose him.
I didn’t answer, not right away.
Instead, I turned and began to walk the rest the way across the clearing, surprising him. The trees stretched so densely before me that it was already dark inside the forest.
“Fear not,” I said to Diego as I faced the darkness. “Just look for one of my white necklace shells.” I said over my shoulder without meeting his eyes. “When you find my shell, you’ll find your pouch.” I didn’t bother to tell him where.
“Can you at least give me a hint?” Diego yelled.
I didn’t answer.
“Aiyana?” Diego’s yelled but his voice sounded small as I abandoned the Apache for the forest. “Aiyana?” he tried again.
I still didn’t answer him. And it felt good.
I smiled as I greeted the forest. The branches from the giant trees opened themselves to me like welcoming arms. I didn’t fear their cold darkness. I didn’t fear solitude.
I started to run.
Behind me, the Apaches shouted words that I didn’t understand. I presumed they shouted best wishes and encouragement for a productive hunt. Amazingly, I heard Doli’s high voice between the cheers. I believe she said, “Come back to us, sister.”
Or maybe that’s what I wanted to hear as I raced straight into the unknown.
***
I’d already decided where to run first.
Despite the weight of the bearskin on my shoulders, I didn’t slow. I had to race against what little was left of the sun to reach the ridge halfway down the mountain where Diego almost killed Honovi. It seemed a fitting spot, a reminder to Diego that he failed.
I wanted to find the same tree where Diego placed his hands around Honovi’s neck.
As I ran, the sun peeked through the dense leafy branches in golden slivers, but barely. In the muted light, the branches shone greener, the ground and rocks, blacker. Tiny puffs of white surrounded my face with each breath. Even so, even in the darkening forest, my body felt strong, like I could run forever.
&nb
sp; But I only had three suns.
There would be no need to hunt till dawn. Till then, the only thing I wanted to do was purge myself of Diego’s pouch in a fitting place.
By the time I reached it, the forest had grown dark. The winds had stopped and through the treetops I could see the faint light from the earliest Sky Wanderers. Quickly, I found a thin, smooth branch and started a fire. I placed my bow carefully beside me, not bothering to remove the quiver from my back.
There was barely any light left from which to work.
Thankfully, my fire pit was already dug and filled with grey-white ash from our last fire. I gathered a handful of dry twigs and pine needles and tried to ignore the tracks in the dirt where Diego dragged me by the hair and Honovi by the neck.
I considered throwing Diego’s precious pouch over the side of the mountain and listening as it splattered on the boulders below. But then my palms busied themselves as I rubbed two sticks inside the hole and waited for the glow at the bottom of the stick. The fire started easily.
Then I reasoned that burying the stones would be wiser. Safer.
Smarter.
As the fire grew, I stoked it with more twigs and dried leaves, relieved as much for the warmth as for the company of a soft glow beneath the trees.
I rose from the fire and dug another hole. This time, I dug underneath the tree where Diego tied Honovi. My fingers scraped angrily at the cold dirt when I remembered the way Diego’s eyes gloated as Honovi’s eyes turned almost completely lifeless.
I shuddered at the memory.
Instead, I focused on Honovi’s bright face and soft kisses the night we slept alongside the stream, our arms threaded around each other, at the bottom of the mountain that reached to the sky. It was the night I fell in love with my dearest, oldest friend.
The night Diego almost took him away from me, too.
I dug harder and faster, picturing Diego’s smug smile and bloodshot eyes. I dug until I carved a hole deep enough to bury his pouch of shiny stones.