The Air Dancer

Chapter 4

Inte'kunda was quiet long after Kidala had finished speaking. She stared into the flames and did not make a sound. She did not move a muscle. She simply sat, and watched.

And listened.

And, finally, she spoke.

"I've seen it, Kidala."

The jaguar was still curled up on the floor with his eyes closed. He was old, and the warm fire had soothed him gently to sleep in the silence that followed his story. But at these words, his ears perked up. He picked up his head and looked at the skinny girl who was on her knees and staring deeply into the flames that she had made.

"What do you mean, Inte? What have you seen?"

"The end. Or, at least, I think it was the end. Or it will be. I don't know." She rubbed her eyes and buried her face in her hands. "But it scared me."

Kidala got up from his comfortable spot on the floor and walked over to Inte'kunda, nudging her head with his and looking her in the eye. "You have nothing to fear, child. One day, death will come for all of us. Just like Mother Sun sets beneath the world to sleep, so must all of us move on to the next world -- wherever that might be."

Inte'kunda turned her head to look at her friend, and tears began to well up inside her big brown eyes. "But I don't want to die, Kidala. It's not fair. I'm so good at being alive."

The old jaguar couldn't help but chuckle at her words, and Inte shot him a sour look.

"It's not funny," she said.

"You're right," he said as he fought to contain his grin. "I'm sorry." He nuzzled up against Inte again as she tried to rid her eyes of the tears. "You are very good at being alive."

"Thank you," she said as she threw her arms around him in a hug.

Kidala brought up a paw to hug her in return and chuckled again. "Of course, little one. Of course."

Just then a light rumbling sound rolled through the cave and Kidala pulled away to look at Inte curiously.

"Someone is hungry," he said.

Inte looked at him innocently and patted her stomach. "I suppose I am," she replied. Making her brown eyes as big as she could, she batted her lashes at the old jaguar. "And someone owes me supper for getting here late."

Kidala grinned a toothy grin and bowed his head. "As you wish," he said with a twinkle. "Keep the fire going,"

He bounded out of the cave, swift and silent as ever.

Inte turned back to the fire, which had died down a little from the room-lighting blaze she had built. It was mostly ashes and embers now, so she walked to the rear of the cave to grab a few thick branches she had set aside to be dried. When she did, her eyes fell again to the box that rested in the far corner of her home.

It was small -- small enough to hold in both of her hands -- and made of the smooth, dark bark of a ch'taka tree. The top and bottom fit into each other snugly, and she picked up the top in one hand with the satisfying sound of smooth wood sliding against itself. Placing it on the ground beside her, she looked inside and smiled.

It was still there.

She didn't know where it came from -- and Kidala either didn't know or wouldn't tell her -- but as far as she knew, it had been hers her whole life. Reaching in, her hand touched the cool metal of the necklace as she traced it with her finger. The thin, delicate chain looked like it had come from one of Kidala's stories: it was shiny and beautiful, and intricately woven in interlocking pieces so fine that they almost seemed liquid. The chain was bunched up in a pile that straightened out as she picked it up, hanging down as it reached for the earth below.

But her favorite part was what hung from the chain: it was a simple circle made of metal that had carvings on both sides. On the obverse was a tree with a circle over it -- Mother Sun, she had guessed. And on the reverse were several lines that looked like a river flowing beneath a mountain.

Inte'kunda had never seen pictures before, and was fascinated by them and by what they represented. She wondered what kind of tool could have made such small carvings, and Kidala had never been able to answer. So she kept it hidden and safe in a box that she made in the hopes that maybe someday she would stumble across an answer. It had been many years and she was no closer to finding one than the day she was born.

Just as she was about to place the necklace back in the box, though, a mighty crash like thunder came from outside of the cave. Then she heard Kidala's roar.