Sand and Blood

Chapter 6: Heading Out

Tateshyúso is the name for large birds that fly high above the desert, content to ride the winds and play in the clouds.

—Gregor Fansil, Ornithological Studies of the Kimīsu Region of the Mifúno Desert

When Rutejìmo woke up, his grandfather was back in his customary place by the fire, mute and staring out into the void. Rutejìmo wanted to walk over and thank him, but then his grandmother would know he had been out of the cave. He didn't want to risk his chance to leave the valley, even if it was just to watch Chimípu going through her rites of passage. Instead, he had to wait until one of them told him he was going on a trip.

"Rutejìmo," announced his grandmother.

He tightened with anticipation, knowing what she would say but not how she would tell him.

"I know you were at the shrine last night."

Rutejìmo's stomach did a slow turn to the side. He took a step back, his bare feet scuffing against the stone ground.

"When you get back"—she focused her bright-green eyes on him—"I will beat you until you scream."

Sweat prickled his brow, and he began to tremble. Rutejìmo glanced toward the entrance of the cave, knowing he could never outrun her. He gulped at his suddenly dry throat.

Tejíko turned her back on him and headed into her map room, moving slower than he had ever seen. "Get packed and leave us."

He watched as she sat down heavily in her customary spot and grabbed a fistful of maps. The paper crinkled loudly as he stared at her. "T-thank you, Great Shimusogo Tejíko."

When she said nothing, he ran to his room and pulled out his travel pack. As he had grown up, the clan had impressed on Rutejìmo what he needed as a courier. Part of the daily rituals was ensuring he could leave at a moment's notice with fresh supplies. It had been only a few days since he last inspected it, but he still pulled out the contents and verified that the rations were fresh, the water clear, and his clothes were in good shape. He also rewrapped a long length of thin rope around a utility knife.

Hoisting the bag over his shoulder, he headed out of the cave and toward the entrance. His heart soared as he ran down to the floor of the valley. It was a familiar path, but somehow it was different. He was leaving to go somewhere other than the nearby valleys for the first time since he was a toddler.

As he jogged through the common cooking area, he saw Pidòhu ahead of him.

Even though they lived in the same valley, Rutejìmo didn't like being near Pidòhu. There was something different about the younger teenager. He was thinner than anyone else, with long, skinny arms and legs. He looked like a leaf about ready to be torn from a branch. As far as Rutejìmo knew, Pidòhu had never won a race, never beaten anyone at wrestling. He was useless in a clan of couriers.

More than once, Rutejìmo wondered why Pidòhu was still in the valley but kept his thoughts to himself. His grandmother beat him the last time he asked, and the lesson still stung along his shoulders and back. Until the rite of passage, Pidòhu was in the clan just like himself.

Rutejìmo accelerated and passed him.

He smiled to himself, enjoying the chance to beat someone. The smile faded as he saw Chimípu racing along a higher path. She jumped off the trail and landed on the one below him. It was the same thing he had done before, but she had leaped further and landed more gracefully than he could ever hope to achieve. Her feet flashed as she sprinted along the next path before she leaped onto the top of one of the storage buildings, over to a second one, and then hit the ground without losing a beat.