Sand and Blood

Chapter 11: Standing Alone

Time alone gives a man a chance to consider the mistakes he made.

—Heyojyunashi Gutèmo

They came to a gasping halt at a pile of rocks. The stones didn't tower over them like the Wind's Teeth, but the outcropping gave some shelter against the wind kicking up sand from the west. It was near the end of the day, and the shadows formed by the setting sun sent long fingers of shade across the red-tinted sands.

Rutejìmo leaned against the rock and panted for air. Sweat trickled down his entire body and his legs trembled, but elation burned brightly in his veins. He had kept up. For the first time since they started this accursed trip, Rutejìmo managed to run with the rest of the clan. Even if the clan was only three teenage boys. He wondered if, somehow, the others had slowed down for him. He glanced at Tsubàyo with a silent question.

The teenager scratched the scars on his face and caught the look. "What?"

"Bàyo, did you—" He cleared his throat and inhaled sharply before he said, "Were you running slower?"

Tsubàyo shook his head. "No, why would I do that?"

"Because... I...." He felt embarrassed talking about it. Rutejìmo stood up and shook his head. "Don't worry about it, I was thinking about something." He turned and headed around the far side of the rocks.

"Jìmo! Don't go too far. You'll need to get a fire started for dinner."

Rutejìmo tensed with annoyance. He had just spent the entire day running with the others. Despite chasing the dépa and feeling more energetic earlier, running was still exhausting and he felt the ache seeping into his limbs.

When he went with Tsubàyo, he never expected to be the one serving the others. It felt demeaning when Tsubàyo should have been glad that Rutejìmo had gone with him instead of staying with Chimípu.

Rutejìmo glanced at Karawàbi, but there was no compassion from the other teenager. The larger boy tossed down the bags and pointed to them. "Don't forget these too. Put my tent by the rocks."

Setting his jaw, Rutejìmo stalked around the rocks to get away from both of them. He continued to walk until he could no longer hear Tsubàyo or Karawàbi. Taking a deep breath, he tried to calm down and fight the sick regret building in his stomach.

The view of the desert was both familiar and strange at the same time. The sun was an angry red blob on the horizon, the edges wavering with the heat that rose up from the sunbaked sands. Dunes and patches of rocks spread out as far as he could see until they disappeared into the haze of sand and wind. It was the same thing he saw every time he went to the edge of the clan's valley. But the swells of sand and the piled rocks were in the wrong places. It wasn't home and it brought a pang of homesickness.

His mind drifted to the run. The dépa was real, but neither Tsubàyo nor Karawàbi had reacted to it when it ran between their legs. He wanted to ask if either of them had seen it, but he didn't want to be mocked if they were ignoring it or if they thought he was seeing things.

Chimípu wouldn't have been much better. She always acted superior to him, both in her attitude and the casual way she excelled at everything. He knew both would humiliate him, but he didn't know if her actions would cut as deeply as Tsubàyo's words. In less than a day, he was questioning his decision.

To his surprise, Rutejìmo worried about Pidòhu. When Pidòhu had quietly explained how to bandage his own broken leg, Rutejìmo was surprised at his strength of will. If Rutejìmo were in his place, he would have been screaming and sobbing far more than Pidòhu's quiet cries.