Sand and Ash

Chapter 25: Mikáryo

Love blossoms in quiet words and gentle touches.

—Tateshyuso Shifáni

Two days later, at the end of their run, Rutejìmo and Mapábyo stopped at the same time. Their feet dug through the sand and dunes, tearing two large gouges through the ground and leaving a cloud of sand to scatter across a valley.

Mapábyo, giggling, pushed her hair from her face. "You didn't stop running this time."

He blushed and gave her a sheepish smile. "I can't when I'm running with you. I start to slow down, then I realize that you wouldn't want me to, and both my heart and feet start going faster."

"Good."

Rutejìmo followed her up a short hill. At the top, a rock plateau stretched out in a wide circle almost a rod across. In the center, a clan had erected a waist-high circle of stone to shield against the desert winds. The clan's name was engraved on the rock, but Rutejìmo didn't recognize it.

"Jìmo?"

He stopped at the top of the wall. He looked over his shoulder to where Mapábyo stood a few feet away with her hands held behind her back. She twisted back and forth, with a smile.

His heart beat even faster.

"You set up the tents, I'll make dinner."

He nodded, unsure of what to say. "I'd like that."

In the brief silence, Rutejìmo finished crawling over the wall and held his hands out for her.

She took them and pulled herself up.

His muscles and injuries screamed in agony, but he fought to keep his discomfort from his face. When she reached the top, he relaxed and straightened.

Mapábyo stepped closer and reached around him. Catching his wrists, she pulled him into her and placed his palms on her hips.

Rutejìmo tried to pull away, but she held him there. "Jìmo?" She whispered, "You want to continue your story?"

Rutejìmo smiled. He had been telling Mapábyo about his rite of passage. For the first time, he didn't hold anything back, including the most humiliating moment in his life, when he peed his pants as Mikáryo first pressed her tazágu against his throat.

He nodded, and she released him.

Time passed quickly as he told his story. He was relieved that she didn't laugh during his whispered telling of the darkest points when he almost failed at being a decent man. Instead, she just asked a few questions and listened.

He finished in the middle of dinner. The cold food rested on his plate, and he stared at it, drained from his storytelling. In his mind, he kept seeing that last moment when he begged everyone to not kill Mikáryo and Tsubàyo.

Mapábyo padded around the small fire and sat down next to him. "You loved her, didn't you?"

Rutejìmo sighed. He wanted to forget that moment when Mikáryo's life was in his hands. His own life would be better if all he could remember was when she told him to leave. But then he would be lying. He sighed and set down his plate. "I don't want to get hit again."

"Silly, I'm not going to hit you," she said with a grin, "unless you answer dishonestly."

He chuckled.

"Please?"

When he looked over, he could see her pleading. Her dark skin accented the ridge of her nose and the green of her eyes. In his mind, he could see Mikáryo sitting next to her, brown skin covered in black tattoos compared to Mapábyo's darker coloration. They were night and day in his world and he didn't know which one he wanted more.