The Trail to Love and Loss

Daya

I rushed back into the woods, clutching Mary to my chest, choking back sobs and gasping for breath. The saddlebag bounced at my hip.

Patrick should've never gone out there. I ran with all my might through the woods and downstream. My tears ran freely, now. I wasn't sure where to go. I hastily looked around. If I was going to leave Patrick, I needed to collect Athalia and Misty Light. They were my only family now. Misty Light would still need to stay with Athalia until next spring, so I couldn't just leave her behind. She liked it here, but Athalia would come looking for me, even if it meant leaving her baby. I had to get to them.

I shook my head, trying to clear it and think properly. My paint was running down my face. I probably looked horrendous.

I stepped into the stream, dropping my possessions on the bank. I stared down into its depths, willing it show me the way.

I prayed to the spirit of the river. Then, looking down again, I saw my reflection. But, it wasn't me. It was a young woman, her black hair whipping fiercely in the wind. She wore a dress of deer hide and homemade moccasins. Her face was deep in the well of youth, only about seventeen. On her cheek was one red line, dipping below her left eye. This was my symbol. But it also had its own meaning. "I am not afraid."

I looked to the right, seeing another mirage. It was me now, curled up in the water. Young and shivering. Afraid. Suddenly filled with anger, I reached back and sloshed the water, sending a cascade of droplets in to disrupt and distort the image. My tear-streaked face was morphed and bent with the ripples of water. I stood, soaking wet, and turned back to my left. The image of the brave warrior flashed on the water. But I was not alone. Beside me stood and boy. No, a man. He looked remarkably like Patrick. I blinked back the tears and water droplets, looking again. But the whole image was gone, eaten by the hungry ripples of water.

I ran my fingers through my dripping hair and leaned over. I scrubbed the paint off my face and went back to my few belongings.

I understood the image and knew my fate. The river spirit had spoken. I reached into the saddlebag and pulled out the red paint. Setting this on the bank, I picked up Mary and the saddlebag. Inside it was my father's knife and his paint, save the red. I caressed the bag once, before gently squeezing Mary and wrapping her into bag. I fastened the dog tooth into the leather strap that held the bag closed. I held it up to my nose and inhaled deeply, breathing in the smells of my father, the corn fields, my village, Athalia, and Asim. Then, I said a silent prayer to the river spirit one last time before wading out into the strong current. Here, I let the bag slip from my grasp and float away, carrying my father's memories, the smells I once knew and loved, Mary, my mother's gift to me, and Asim. Dear Asim. It drifted away and hopefully out to sea, where it would remain forever.

I turned away and swam for the shore, picking up my paint on the way. I dried my face as best I could and dipped my index finger into the paint. Then, under my left eye, I drew one red line.

I melted into the shadows of the forest and began my journey back to Patrick's asi.

When I got back, I headed into Athalia's lodging. I found Patrick grooming her. I touched his shoulder gently.

"I thought you'd be gone by now. Along with your horses," He said. I blinked quickly, holding back my tears.

"Not without you," I stroked Athalia's forehead and ruffled Misty Light's short-cropped mane. Patrick looked taken aback.

"What do you mean?" he asked, perplexed.

"Let me show you instead." I rose up on my tiptoes and kissed his lips.

It was perfect. Not like me. But still perfect. I felt his lips pressed against my own. Warmth radiated through my whole body. He resisted at first, but soon relaxed. His eyes fluttered closed and he raised his arms, wrapping them around my waist. I let myself droop into his strong embrace and hugged him tightly around the neck. My lips hungrily searched for more from him.

Unfortunately, he pulled back out of my grasp.

I looked into his eyes, searching for his reasons of pulling away. Patrick said nothing. He reached out a fingered one of my braids, tugging on it gently. My fingers twitched idly by my sides.

Patrick exhaled deeply.

"We should go inside. The horses should be fine for now." He turned and headed back to the wooden asi.