OTHERBORN: THE DIG [WP PROLOGUE EDITION]

SIX

I'm powerful and strong.

Racing away, the man's wholeness still reaches every pore in my form; my scans absorbs him. I analyze the moods of him that I can feel. I know what's trapped in the strains of his voice—while I run with all fluid muscles.

My 'dig' though!

I run through the low hills, not to my home—exactly the way I've been thoroughly taught. I never let strangers near me or follow.

But this man is not a bad spirit, I sense.

Was he one of ours, this man who shouted at me in such different speech? His presence is raspy...dried by the desert, strong through, and keen. This man feels warm and deep.

But out here there is danger! I cannot be wrong.

The varied skin folk and many with guns entice us to join them. But we don't plan to do it. This hasn't worked in our past.

We have no such intention. This is our land, and we know how outsiders' own towns hold them clinging onto theirs.

They'll never find us. We are the strong. The few outsiders hardy enough to survive here, like Uncle Reggie, keep to themselves; and we help them to do so.

We know only of things in their world because Reggie's among us and land sworn as we are.

The crooks and the thieves don't want to be seen, and the rare parties of occasional drunk folk and their guides — or the rarest, the flat-viewer crews with their objects, called "cameras", those, we avoid; we pull up and range farthest from them.

I might have more luck if I go by the river. I could run a long way now, if my water bottle had not drained before my excitement at finding the skull. I heave with frustration. What would family say?

I should get water first and then settle back on my journey home to be safe, but leaving my discovery behind with the stranger, now near my dig...?

I just cannot do it.

What had the man seen me do before bolting? How long was he there?

I want to go back to my dig. And I shouldn't—at all—but I'll melt in despair if he touches my skull!

And what if I never see it again? I panic.

I stop.

I could try yelling and screaming, as if I've been hurt... I've seen that done before, and... Well, I can't think of anything else I can do now...

So I yell...in the hopes he will come.

I pray to distract him. I wait.

How long has it been since he first had called out...? A minute? Five? I might have a chance. He'll be the one who's inexperienced here.

Can't leave him alone. Where is he?

He most likely stumbled and fell on his way down the dunes and lurched onto the flat patch before he reached even the spot where I'd been.

He'd be bruised now for sure.

And too, my find could be hidden... I remember, flipping my wrap across the face of the skull and leaving it there, as I leapt up to run.

Perhaps he won't know what I was up to? Except...

I think I also left my "excavation" brush, sticking out of the sand. I check for my waist tie. It isn't here. I did. I dropped it!

What are the chances he would notice this now? Did he follow me right off when he heard me yell, or did he stop there to look at my dig? I hold my breath.

And to my relief, I can hear him. He's yelling. He's calling me now. "Hang on! I will come find you. Try to stay still!"... And he calls in "our" words — or most of them are.

Who is this man that he knows words of our language? Is this a trap?

I breathe in again, pausing. He thinks he will find me, as I want him to think. But I circle back.

I want to jog easy, but there isn't time. I race on a bit more toward the river, and fast. I see it appear through the sagebrush as I run down a small cliff. This edge is too straight, though—far too steep to launch myself onto it upright, and at this pace—no.

I pull back. Careful!

I turn to my right, keep a full length away from the river and its red sandy cliffs, checking behind me. I do not leave traces.

I check for a spot where the land and the water are flowing together. I need a path down that's got less obvious soft dirt. That will leave marks he could easily notice. I see a spot through the brush.

I'm soon on my knees, guzzling water. I drool down my chin and my torn, woven shirt, hands already sliding in the clay of the bank, which threatens to pitch me onto the current as heels start to skid.

So, clenching my stomach, I pull halfway upright, and then I try to backup a small distance, yanking my bottle strap over my head, where I now lurch and slip back down again.

Just before I can swoosh into the water, I thrust outwards to dunk the bottle with both hands out, twisting the cap off as I do.

I scoop, swing back around in the mud of the river. I'm facing the bank, and I leap, water sucking clay behind me.

I've got it!

The noise I've made though embarrasses me. "As it should!" Mateo would tell me.

I don't mean to clamber, but sweat's in my eyes! Again, I am up and back onto level, but ashamed I have been thoughtless.

I've rehearsed all these moves so many times to race at great speed. This time I'm clumsy, but I wasn't prepared. Still, it's a failure I should not allow...

Is he still following me...?

Feeling the man could already be at the river, I cut abruptly away to the small rise running beside me. This hill will hide all my movements from eyes of the man.

I will squeeze among rocks and wiggle myself past, then behind him without being seen; The man will be none the wiser.

I ease along, silent, rolling my feet from the pads to the inside. For a time I can hear him searching, but his voice gets more muffled, the further I slink...

Until I am clear, and I'm—at last, out of earshot.

With all renewed strength, I barrel headlong back to my "dig".

I locate again where I was exactly—the place of my skull with its bones in the ground.

A find the brush, dust all around, and lift the skull onto my wrap to carefully swaddle it under my arm, tucked into my ribs.

That was close! I won't let that man catch me again!

~~~/

So do we trust Kai's instincts about this new man?

And how do you feel about Kai taking the skull?

Do you think he's right to keep all this secret?

Next time we'll see how this goes... 🙏🤗🪂