Captive Spirit (11 page)

“Here,” Honovi said breathlessly, releasing his arm from my waist, but in the next instant, we crouched below low-hanging branches. Honovi pulled back a branch and began to crawl on his stomach. I followed blindly like a turtle and Sinopa crawled behind me.

The wind howled so fiercely across our faces that whispering was no longer necessary. “Where are we going?”

“Not much farther,” Honovi said over his shoulder.

The ground was wet and slick but I kept crawling, even as water seeped through the front of my dress.

And then suddenly, I didn’t hear the mad rustle of Honovi’s legs and feet in front of me. He disappeared.

I stopped crawling. “Honovi?” My head lifted. I felt Sinopa’s breath at my ankles.

“Here,” he said, although I couldn’t see him. His hands reached for my arm then my hands.

“Give me your hand,” he said.

Swiftly, he pulled me downwards until my feet landed on something smooth and flat. And hard. A rock. I stood on a rock. I feared that if I let go of his hands, I’d fly into nothingness. We both would. The wind raged around us.

Sinopa climbed down after me, landing on the rock with both feet.

Together, they pulled me toward an opening in the rock face that was just big enough for three of us. Inside, the wind howled less loudly. It was warmer but not warm. My nose wrinkled. The air smelled stale. It was some kind of cave but too dark to completely tell.

“We’ll rest here,” Honovi said. His voice sounded hoarse. “And take care of your foot.”

“Yes,” I said, suddenly drowsy with relief. “Rest.” It had been days since I really slept in more than just fitful bits. How could I sleep alongside strangers whose eyes I could never trust?

No more words were spoken between us. Exhausted, we dropped to the ground and huddled for warmth. A fire would be too dangerous. I was wedged in the middle, holding each of their hands clutched against my chest.

Our breathing finally slowed and our eyes closed. We were if nothing relieved to be together again in the World Beyond, damp, shivering, but alive.

And that would do. Till morning.

The next time my eyes opened, grey light filled the cave entrance and white clouds circled around my mouth whenever I breathed. My body ached from the hard ground. But I jolted upwards when I realized that I was alone.

Had last night been a dream?

“Honovi?” My voice cracked.

No answer.

I lifted higher. “Sinopa?” I said. Surely they wouldn’t leave me alone in a strange cave.

Tentatively, I peaked over the edge that dropped just past the entrance. Trees stretched below with leaves that had turned more red than green.

I rubbed my shoulders for warmth and tried desperately to ignore the permanent growl inside my stomach that I had grown so accustomed to. I drew my knees closer to my chest to stifle it.

Someone had wrapped my injured foot with deerskin.

Honovi, probably.

A thin cotton strap wrapped around my foot to keep the deerskin in place. Mercifully, it throbbed less instead of more. The last thing I needed was a broken bone with no way to heal it. Chitsa was the only person I knew who could set broken bones.

I stood to test my foot’s strength. But just as soon as I was upright, one set of deerskin legs, and then another, leapt onto the ledge outside the cave’s entrance. I sucked back a startled breath until I saw the faces of Honovi and Sinopa. Their bodies filled the opening.

Honovi smiled. “You can walk?” But then his smile faded. “Your face?” he said.

My hand cupped my cheek. “What about it?”

Honovi moved closer, touching my hand that covered the cheek where Diego’s fist left a purple bruise. “It’s nothing,” I said but that didn’t relax Honovi’s jaw. “Really,” I added, anxious to be talking of other things. Like being alive. Bruises could heal.

Ignoring Honovi, I took a step to attempt walking. I fought back a grimace when my full weight pressed against the ball of my foot.

“You shouldn’t walk.” Honovi’s said.

“I can walk,” I insisted.

“You can’t.”

“Yes I can,” I said. I took another step, just a small one, before I reached out with both hands for the cave entrance. The cave wall, like the rest of the cave itself, was cold and dank. Dried animal dung littered the corners.

“Okay,” Honovi said, shaking his head, doubtfully. “Be stubborn.”

I look another step. Then another. My legs stiff and aching, my foot throbbing like it was on fire.

Finally, I reached the cave wall, breathing like I’d just run across the clearing. I slid slowly, reluctantly, down to the ground, winded.

Honovi shook his head, watching me. “Can you eat?” he said while Sinopa walked around me to the rear of the cave.

I licked my dry lips when my breathing slowed. Then I nodded.

Honovi smiled and sat next to me. “Try this.” He opened his hand to reveal a sprig of berries. Each deep blue berry was no bigger than my pinky fingernail. I’d never seen fruit so blue. “Go on,” he said. “They’re for you. They’re good.”

I ripped a few of the berries from the vine. Tentatively, I put one in my mouth and bit down. The skin was warm and soft. Sweetness exploded inside my mouth. I moaned. Then I ripped off another and then another until I had eaten every last one.

“Thirsty?” Honovi asked me.

I nodded, licking the juice from my lips.

Honovi handed me my water pouch. It was heavy. “Where’d you find water?”

“There’s a creek not far from here. When we’re certain that we’re alone, we’ll go catch some fish. I saw some as long as my arm.”

“They haven’t come looking for us?” I couldn’t hide the anxiety in my voice.

Honovi shook his head.

“Good,” I added before taking a long draw from the pouch. The cool water, combined with the sweet berries, silenced the growl in my stomach. “When do we leave?” I sat back against the wall and extended my legs as I watched Honovi. He wore tan deerskin pants and a long-sleeved deerskin shirt, both dusty and dirty like mine. I wasn’t used to seeing him with a shirt. Part of the sleeve on his right arm was missing. Then I realized it was the same piece that was wrapped around my foot. His hair was pulled back in a ponytail and his cheeks were still dotted with bruises from the ball court competition. Dark smudges outlined the bottom of both eyes. I wondered how long it had been since he’d slept.

But Honovi didn’t answer. Suddenly, he stood. And then he began to pace, his brow furrowed.

“Tell me what’s wrong. What secrets do you still keep from me?” I said. “Please. Just say it.”

Honovi’s nostrils flared as he drew back a breath. Then he said. “We can’t leave.”

“Can’t leave?” I leaned forward. “Are you crazy?” Surely he didn’t expect us to survive in this musty cave forever. We needed more than just a handful of berries to survive.

Honovi’s voice lowered. “We’ll leave. But not yet.” He crouched down on his heels so that he was eye level with me.

Sinopa returned from the rear of the cave and sat beside Honovi without a word. He rocked on his heels looking about the cave, anxious. Sinopa was dressed in deerskins, just like Honovi, but the rings underneath his eyes were deeper, the whites of his eyes, bloodshot. He carried three sharpened daggers in one hand. I recognized them as ones that Eyota carved long ago. In his other hand, he carried a bow and quiver of arrows. He and Honovi used them to hunt deer and javalina.

Sinopa handed one of the daggers to Honovi. Honovi slipped it behind his belt while Sinopa continued to avoid my eyes. He gave his dagger an extra tug, to make sure it stayed secure.

I finally found my voice. “What aren’t you telling me? What are you doing?” I said, my eyes darting suspiciously between them and their weapons. It was as if they were having a private conversation without words. Without me. “I mean, what are
we
doing?”

Honovi sighed. “You’re not doing anything, Aiyana,” he said calmly. Too calmly. “You’re staying here. Please. Do as I say.”

“Stay here?” My eyes widened. “I will not. I’m going home. We’re going home. Now. That’s the plan, isn’t it?” My question was meant to be rhetorical.

But Honovi leaned forward on one knee. He gently put his hand on my shoulder and pushed me back against the wall. “We’re not going home. Not yet.”

My heart thudded against my chest.

“And you’ll have to stay here,” he said. “It’s the only way…” His voice trailed off as his head tilted toward Sinopa.

I shook my head. “Speak plainly to me, Honovi. You’re not making sense. What are you talking about?” I would have thought that they’d want nothing more than to return to our village, especially after running for more than three suns without stopping.

Honovi looked at Sinopa and then they both stared back at me. Sinopa’s eyes blazed and his nostrils flared but it was if he looked through me, not at me. He absently dug his dagger into the dirt, hard. Angry. He carved a deep line in the earth. Then another.

And that’s when I knew.

Sinopa was unable to speak and so Honovi did it for him. “We’re not leaving this world until we kill those men.” Honovi paused. “Every. Last. One.”

My chin pulled back, stunned. I’d never seen Honovi’s eyes so determined, so angry. Not even when he played ball court. Not even when he stared down Pakuna at the Rain Ceremony.

This was different.

His determination frightened me. I knew that I would never change his mind, no matter how hard I tried. No matter how much I begged.

Beside him, Sinopa’s jaw hardened as he slashed another deep groove in the dirt. I didn’t need to guess what he was thinking because part of me yearned for it, too.

Revenge.

“Are you both crazy?” I blurted anyway but my words were empty, my breath wasted. No one could stop them, least of all me.

Honovi raised his hand to silence me. “I promised your father, Aiyana.”

Sinopa’s shoulders pulled back, his nostrils flared again. So full of anger and hate, he could barely form words.

Honovi rested a hand on Sinopa’s shoulder to steady him. “I promised Sinopa, too.”

For a moment, I almost pitied Diego and his men. There was no telling what Sinopa would do when he found them. He’d kill them with his bare hands, tearing off their arms and legs, saving their beating hearts for last. But after he tasted his revenge, he’d never be dear, sweet Sinopa again, the boy who loved my sister and who delighted in calling me little sister. Diego had stolen his innocence, too.

“I promised Sinopa that I would help him…” Honovi paused and then his voice cracked, “…if he helped me find you.” His eyes softened as they locked onto mine. It was as if he could read my thoughts. He begged me to understand.

But I did understand. I understood completely.

My shoulders pulled back. “Then you’re going to need my help,” I said calmly even as Honovi’s dark eyes narrowed, the softness fading. “No one knows these men better than me.”

***

We waited for the Sun to fade below the trees, eating berries and sharing the last of the dried meat and raw agave. Honovi promised that we would celebrate with a feast of fish and rabbit after our victory.

I attempted to impress them with a new word. “We’ll eat like kings!” I told them, but Sinopa and Honovi only looked back at me, confused. Again.

Still, I felt our victory in the depths of my heart. I could see what it looked like in their faces; I tasted its sweetness. And I craved that moment more than anything so that we could go home again. Together. Safe.

Part of me wanted—needed—to talk to them about Chenoa. But each time her memory flashed across my heart, my eyes leaked tears. Pain tugged deep inside me and overshadowed any thoughts of victory and homecoming. But as much as I needed to talk about Chenoa, I found the opposite in Sinopa.

Whenever I looked at him, he quickly looked away, pretending to fiddle with his dagger or his quiver. But I knew that he saw Chenoa in me. And being around me, so close, the loss so fresh, only worsened his pain.

But I got his attention when I talked about Diego.

“The thick one, his name is Diego,” I told them.

Sinopa leaned forward.

“Of the three, he’s the smartest. The strongest. Probably the quickest, too. He carries his knife in his sandal.” I patted the inside of my injured foot. “It’s the longest knife I’ve ever seen. Harder than rock. Shiny, too.”

“And the small one?”

“Jorge.” I hesitated. I wondered if they shouldn’t spare him. I lifted my palms.

“He’s no older than Onawa,” I pleaded.

But they were not swayed. Their faces remained hard and determined.

“And the tall one?” Honovi asked carefully. His jaw hardened when I didn’t answer right away.

“He calls himself Alfonso.” I said, swallowing. “He’s the meanest one. He won’t be taken easily.” I remembered all the times he kicked Lobo. He’d probably have kicked me too if Diego had let him.

Lobo.

I blinked. “What about Lobo?”

Sinopa and Honovi looked at each other, brows furrowed, confused.

“The grey and white beast. He looks like a coyote. But he’s neither beast nor coyote.”

Honovi pulled back and shook his head. “We did not see any other beasts, Aiyana. Just the three horses.”

I smiled at Honovi.

The new word came easily to him now.

“Lobo won’t hurt you, not on purpose,” I said. “Diego raised him. He found him abandoned next to his dead mother. He told me so. Lobo is a wolf.”

Sinopa’s eyes widened in disbelief. “A wolf?” Like me, the only wolves he knew were found in Yuma’s stories, the kind he told us around the fire pit, like the one where the coyote tried to trick the wolf but only succeeded in losing his voice. Until I saw Lobo, I didn’t know wolves were real.

I nodded. “Yes. He kept me warm at night.” I rubbed my shoulders, remembering the icy cold nights when I thought my shivering would never stop. “Perhaps Lobo ran away for good. Perhaps he found his way back home, too.” I smiled to myself at the possibility.

Sinopa and Honovi looked at each other again, their brows still deeply furrowed. Then they smiled.

“What?” I said.

Honovi sighed and Sinopa chuckled, if only for a moment. “Leave it to you to make friends with a wolf. You are a strange girl, Aiyana.”

I ignored him. “Just don’t hurt him. Please.”

Honovi nodded, but not very convincingly. “What about other weapons?” he said.

“I think they all carry knives. Maybe they keep them hidden in their sacks.” I paused, then added, “Jorge carries a flute in his pocket.”

“I’m not concerned about a flute,” Honovi said but then his expression darkened. “Why did they come to our village? Why did they take you?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know, exactly. I think they wanted to give me to a village called the Apache. Like a gift.”

Honovi’s jaw tightened. Sinopa started breathing faster.

I continued. “They carried a map.”

Honovi shook his head, confused. “Map?”

“A piece of yellow deerskin or tree bark—eucalyptus, I think—with strange symbols painted on it.” I spread my hands apart to indicate the size. “It shows how to travel to other worlds. Diego said it would lead them to the Apache.”

Honovi turned to Sinopa. “We must get that map.” The new word sounded strange again, leaving Honovi’s lips. It was like how it sounded when he said
horse
. It sounded all wrong.

“Why?” Sinopa asked.

“Because then they won’t be able to find our village again.”

Sinopa chuckled darkly. “What will it matter when we slit their throats?”

Honovi didn’t answer. But he didn’t challenge Sinopa either.

How I wished that Diego and his men had never entered our lives.

As we waited, the cave seemed to grow smaller; the air, thinner. Words left unsaid hung between us.

Finally, Honovi rose and crossed the floor to fetch his bow and quiver of arrows. He brought them to Sinopa and they sat facing each other, cross-legged. Rocking in place, I hummed anxiously to myself, watching my friends prepare as warriors. They silently checked and rechecked each sharpened arrowhead and each taut bow string until it finally grew too dark to see.

There was so much more I wished to tell them but the right words that usually flowed so easily between us got lodged somewhere deep inside my throat. I wanted to wrap my arms around them and hold them close.