Revolutions

5 - Teqosa

I'm back at my childhood home, laying on the bedroll on the floor of my undecorated room. The sun barely peeks in through the seams of the wooden walls, particles of dirt and dust dance in the beams. The trogons, decorated in their teal and bright red plumage, sing their mournful whoop, whoop, and a gentle breeze rattles the leaves in accompaniment. Something compels me to venture outside and hike a nearby hill, gradually walking up and up and up, through the dull, bleached yellows of the tall grasses.

Sitting at the base of a lone, tall beech tree in a small clearing of the hill is a woman, whose long, black hair cascades down along her back. The color of the tanned leather garments she wears almost blend seamlessly into her skin. She sits upright and cross-legged, seemingly meditating and unaware and unthreatened by the fact that I'm walking up to her. The view from this hill overlooks a vast, deep blue lake, cradled amongst the hills and surrounded on all sides. Considering this, I, too, would rather take in the sights instead of that of some approaching stranger.

"We used to play in hills like this all the time," she says, wistfully. Her voice is deep and regal, and even as she's remembering a childhood memory, her words have a certain poignant staccato to them. "Do you remember that, as well, Teqosa?"

"Of course I do," I say. "We used to spear fish in that lake, and we'd wander these hills for what felt like days, worrying our parents to death, I'm sure." I walk over and sit beside the woman, glancing at her—not just to make sure I've identified the correct person, but to get a look at someone I lost so long ago. Sure enough, the unmistakable high cheekbones and soft point of a chin are painted in the morning sun. Her lips draw a thin line across her narrow face, and she keeps her chin lifted upward and proud, just how I've always remembered her to be.

"I can't count how many beasts and monsters we've slain, but the number has to be staggering," I continue with a small chuckle at my own joke about our adolescence. "We were the fiercest warriors of the land."

"We still are," she says with confidence, as if she didn't render my comment as a joke at all. At this, there's a pause. What I'm sure to her is a passing statement, her response has a significant impact on me as I reflect on her words. I haven't seen my sister in years, and the uncertainty I've had over her whereabouts has weighed heavily upon me during this time. Knowing what I know now, it's difficult for me to get passed the enigmatic quality of what she says. After absorbing our surroundings for a spell, she finally breaks the silence.

"You know I had no choice but to leave," she says, anticipating one of many questions swirling in my head. "If I could, I would've stayed in Hilaqta, but that's not what fate had planned for me." She says this as a statement of fact, like she was doing a bit of accounting and going through the figures. The abrupt way she moved to this subject is jarring and off-putting, but perhaps it is to keep me on my toes. It's something she's always done since I've known her.

"It still hurt," I say, childishly. I know saying as much won't fix anything, it won't change anything, and I wish I would've said anything else, but my heart blurts it out as if I'm a spectator to what I say or do. I feel as though I've resorted to a time when I was much younger, before our lives were disrupted.

"I never meant to hurt you," she says, now in a slightly compassionate tone. "I wish things could be different, but..."

She trails off and leaves the sentence unfinished. I eventually concede and rest my head on her shoulder, looking out to the horizon along with her. I feel her body heave occasionally, coinciding with her brief and stifled sobs, but she continues to look toward the lake, watching the sky brighten with the rising sun. I want to tell her how much I miss her, and how much she meant to our father and me—how much she still means to me—but I feel the burning lump of words caught in my throat, and nothing leaves my lips.