Sand and Blood

Chapter 23: One Mistake

It only takes a second for everything to change.

—Proverb

Rutejìmo struggled to set one foot in front of the other. After a day of dragging Pidòhu across the desert, each agony had become painfully familiar. The muscles in his back screamed and his legs shuddered with the effort to pull the wooden frame along the rolling rocks and sharp stones.

Every time the wooden frame slipped in his palms, the memory of Pidòhu's fall slammed into him. He clenched tightly to the handles, despite the blisters and the sharp pains. Memories drove him to keep pulling. If it wasn't the heart-stopping fall, it was Karawàbi's empty gaze or the smell of his corpse. He was haunted by the terrible things that had happened and the guilt that burned in his throat. He was responsible, and even if it took them a month to get home, he wouldn't stop dragging.

A shadow circled around them—Tateshyúso. Rutejìmo followed the spirit's passing with his eyes as he forced himself to step forward. His heart quickened with anticipation as the shadow spiraled closer.

Pidòhu groaned softly, and the frame shifted in Rutejìmo's grip. "Come on, please, come on," he whispered.

"Don't force it," Rutejìmo said. He gripped tighter.

Pidòhu chuckled. "You're an expert now?"

"After listening to you for eight hours?" Rutejìmo grinned. "Yes, I am. Every time you start struggling and talking, that shadow"—he gestured with his chin—"slides away. And when you relax and doze, it stays above us."

"It isn't dozing, it's...." Pidòhu sounded hurt and frustrated. "I can't describe it, how it feels."

Rutejìmo struggled to drag the frame over a larger ridge. "Give me a better word."

"Word for what?"

"When you find that all your fears fade away and you have this... this... presence inside you. When you feel Shimusògo running in your heart and there is no time or place to be upset, angry, or even hurt. I-I... I can't explain it, either."

"Rapture." Pidòhu chuckled dryly, then groaned in pain. "Though I'll take your word for Shimusògo. When I doze as you said, it is the same thing. My leg doesn't hurt, and I stop thinking about all the things I should have done instead of getting up on that rock."

Rutejìmo froze in mid-step. "You too?"

"Yes. But then I realize that if I never broke my leg, I may have never heard Tateshyúso. I was never for Shimusògo, no matter how much I hoped. The idea that Tateshyúso would be there for me, to hear her whisper in the back of my head and feel that shadow, was the furthest thing from my dreams. But, now that I feel her, I have a craving to feel her shadow on my skin."

As he spoke, Tateshyúso's shadow spiraled out and then dove back in. It sailed past Rutejìmo and Pidòhu before coming up.

As the blanket of coolness draped over them, Rutejìmo let out a soft moan of relief. "That feels good."

"I know." Pidòhu's voice was strained. "But I don't think I can hold her much longer. I'm getting tired."

"As long as you can." Rutejìmo bore down on the pain, gripped the handles tightly, and pulled forward. He couldn't move fast enough for Shimusògo, but he needed to take advantage of the dark comfort of Tateshyúso as long as it would last.

He followed Chimípu's half-hidden footsteps as the wind erased her passing. Her path took him up to the crest of a dune. He knew she was on the other side; it was only a few chains, but it felt like miles. Gasping for breath, he drove his feet into the shifting sands and concentrated on each step.