Sand and Ash

Chapter 29: His Memorial

We all have our parts in a play that never ends.

—Nilamar Por

Rutejìmo leaned against the entrance to the bedroom and stared at the bed. It used to be his, but now it was Mapábyo's, and he just happened to sleep in it. He took a deep breath and picked up the fading scent of her perfume. The twisted sheets and blankets remained from the night before, when they shared one private goodbye.

He didn't have the courage to tell her he had to leave. Instead, he kept his plans to himself and tried not to think about the guilt tearing at him from the inside until after she left. His efforts left him sick and dizzy. He couldn't eat past the sourness in his stomach that stuck with him ever since he decided to lie to her.

Rutejìmo knew it was wrong. He should have told her, but he couldn't stop her from serving the clan. They needed her and he was willing to step away so she no longer had to make a choice.

Every time she hugged him, he expected her to call him on his behavior. Every time they kissed, he was terrified she would pull back with realization. She didn't. He guessed Mapábyo was too engrossed with her plans to notice his behavior. Or, at least he hoped that was the reason.

A wave of nausea rose up. Groaning, he pressed his face to the cool rock and panted for breath until the agony passed.

As soon as he could move again, he staggered across the room and gathered up his tazágu. The fighting spike scraped against the ground, the sound echoing off the stone walls. He buckled it into place and backed out of the room.

"I'm sorry," whispered Rutejìmo.

It was close to midnight, and no one would see him leaving. His supplies were already gathered and packed into a large bag. It was more than he normally ran with, but he only needed enough for Wamifuko City. Once there, he could return to running errands for the city and settle back into the world that already accepted him.

He tried to tell himself that Mapábyo would forget him, but he knew it was a lie. His stomach twisted violently as he considered what she would do: probably cry herself sick and come after him. She would tear the city apart in hopes of finding him.

Rutejìmo shook his head and took a deep breath. He hoisted the pack over his shoulder and padded for the entrance of the cave. To his surprise, he shook from the effort.

"Hurry up, Dòhu!" Chimípu's voice drifted from the opposite side of the blanket covering the entrance. "I don't want to get caught."

Rutejìmo gasped and yanked his hand back from the blanket.

He heard the scuff of Chimípu's feet right before she pushed the blanket aside and stepped inside. She wore a red dress with orange trim. The flowing skirt moved with the faint breeze, except where her knife pinned the fabric at her thigh. She looked across the room. Her eyes didn't focus on him when she scanned over him.

Pidòhu stepped in past her carrying a large tray of food. The frail man had his short black hair cropped close to his skull. He wore little, a loincloth and nothing else. His brown skin was paler than anyone else in the valley because he spent most of his days in the shadow of Tateshyúso, his clan spirit.

Chimípu released the blanket, and it swung back to cover the entrance. When Rutejìmo returned to the valley, they had replaced it with a thick one with Mapábyo's name on it and moved his old one to the bed. She smiled and peered into the cave. She gestured to a candle near Rutejìmo. "Looks like Mapábyo forgot to put out the light."

"Good for me. That way you don't have to glow and show off."

She chuckled and stepped forward, waves of heat rising off her body before the flames burst around her skin. It painted the walls with golden light and the smell of hot desert wind rippled through the air.