Inside, the room was dark and it was icy cold. The fire no longer burned. There wasn’t even an ember.
“Honovi?” I said again, squinting into the darkness.
No answer.
The room smelled sharp and medicinal, like too much burnt sage and creosote.
I spun around and ran outside, bursting open the flap with clenched fists.
And I kept running.
I ran to the far end of the village where the Apache kept their handful of horses, including Diego’s two.
As I ran, my eyes scanned the village for Honovi. In his new deerskins and headband, he could have easily blended with any of the Apache.
But where could he be? Where did he go?
I stopped to catch my breath and leaned against one of the houses. The animal skins and dried grasses that filled the house’s frame scratched my hands and arms as I circled around it. The house was empty, fortunately, like most of the others and once again I was thankful that it didn’t have any windows. Still, I hugged it close as I walked around it backwards, looking everywhere for Honovi.
“Aiyana!”
I froze.
A warm hand grabbed my wrist, hard.
I turned.
“Honovi! Where have you been? I’ve been looking all over for you!”
Honovi’s eyes blazed. “Where’ve
I
been? I told you to wait for me. And be ready.”
The blaze in my eyes equaled his. I started to breathe hard again. “And I am,” I said defiantly. “Ready!”
Honovi’s lips pressed together. His nostrils flared. “Come on,” he said. “We don’t have much time.”
His hand slipped from my wrist and then down to my hand. He threaded his fingers through mine and I stopped breathing. At that frightening moment I knew anything was possible.
“Run,” he exhaled under his breath.
We ran toward the horses, both knowing that we would never get too far on foot. The Apache warriors would follow us, certainly.
In the center of the village, the drums stopped just as we reached a handful of horses grazing on a small patch of grass. I immediately recognized Diego’s horse. It was taller and rounder than the others and had the silkiest coat. It raised its head suspiciously and whinnied when we approached.
“Shh,” I said to it, as I reached for its long head while Honovi reached for the cord that tied it to a tree. “Shh, horse. We won’t hurt you.” Diego’s small deerskin side pouch was already mounted. My eyes widened with the realization of what was inside. The map.
The horse looked at us warily with its round, black eyes but whinnied softly when I began to stroke the soft spot along its snout like I saw Diego do many times before. “It’ll be okay,” I said. “Everything will be okay,” I added, more to calm our anxiety than Diego’s horse.
Honovi jumped on its back easily, as if he’d been riding horses his whole life.
“Where’d you learn that?” I asked.
He clucked to the horse to keep him steady. “I learn fast, remember?” he said. “I had plenty of time watching Diego,” he added dryly. He extended his head. “Give me your arm.”
Just as I lifted my arm, a herd of feet thundered toward us. They replaced the drumbeats.
I paused and turned when I should have grabbed for Honovi when he asked. That was a mistake.
Manaba and Diego ran toward us, followed by the rest of the Apache warriors. Not far behind them, the women and children trailed. Everyone from the village ran toward us. Surrounding us.
“Give me your hand, Aiyana!” Honovi yelled.
I reached for Honovi, felt his fingertips, then his palm. But I was too late.
Diego’s hand had already found my waist.
“Run, Honovi! Run!” I yelled, but the horse reared its hind legs and Honovi struggled to stay on his back.
My arms and legs flailed as I failed to wriggle out of Diego’s grasp. His hold only grew tighter.
“You really don’t think I’d let you leave without first returning what belongs to me, did you?” Diego laughed against my ear while Manaba yelled to his men, his hand pointing to two of them and then to Honovi. One of the men, the one who guarded the healer’s house, grabbed Honovi’s horse by its neck with one thick, muscled arm. The horse calmed immediately. Then another warrior tussled with Honovi, pulling him off the horse until they were both rolling across the clearing, a mass of swirling dust and grass. It took two additional men to finally pin Honovi.
“Let him go,” I screamed as I watched the struggle, still writhing in Diego’s arms. Diego held my arms behind my back as I watched, helplessly, as two of Manaba’s men held Honovi back while one beat him across the face and chest with his fists.
“Stop!” I yelled. Stop!” His bruises from Diego had barely healed.
Then, from behind the crowd, Lobo leapt into the clearing. He pounced on the warrior who beat Honovi. For a moment, the two men who held him back stepped away, unsure whether to help their friend or continue to hold Honovi.
Because of Lobo, I managed to wiggle one hand loose from Diego’s grasp. I reached behind my belt and pulled out his knife. “Honovi! Catch!” I threw him the knife as he leapt from his knees to his feet. His lip was bloodied but I could see that his eyes were sharp. And angry.
He caught the handle in his hand and then began to point it at the Apache who crouched low, waiting for him. When they saw the shiny knife, two of the men began to back away as Lobo wrestled with the third. One of the men kicked Lobo in the belly and he went yelping in pain into the forest.
With Lobo injured, more warriors surrounded Honovi.
Manaba’s voice boomed angrily as he thrust his arms forward. The veins in his neck flared against his skin. Instead of a handful, an entire Apache village surrounded Honovi. They crept around him, their movements slow but deliberate, like Honovi was an animal about to be slaughtered. I sank lower into the ground, certain that I was watching Honovi, alive, for the last time. I didn’t want to think what they’d do to him when they caught him. And then what they’d do to me.
Just as I sank to my knees, the strangest thing happened.
The air turned eerily calm and the sky darkened to a blue-black like the mountain berries along the creek. Not a single cloud interrupted it. Every tree branch grew still and the grasses froze. The black birds that filled every tree stopped singing. Their silence was the strangest sound of all.
Everyone stood still, waiting, even Honovi and me.
Somebody in the crowd whispered,
“Ya’ài,”
and pointed tentatively at the sky.
The sun.
Slowly, our faces turned upward. A shadow began to float over the sun, a tiny sliver at first, and then bigger. It was as if Hunab Ku himself reached down to hide the sun behind his giant hand.
Everyone squinted into the sky, mesmerized. The sky turned bright and dark at the same time.
Children ran to their mothers, anxious and crying. The warriors who had been ready to slice open Honovi’s chest with their daggers suddenly backed away. Even Diego let go of my arm and used his other hand to make a crossing gesture across his chest.
The healer stood behind Manaba. He pointed at me and said my name. And then he pointed at the sun.
“Ya’ài!”
he yelled angrily. He shook his stick at the sky before shaking at me. As if I could control the sun.
Then the sky grew even darker, so dark that the black shadow replaced the blue. Around me, the Apache began to retreat toward the safety of their village, never taking their eyes off me yet not touching me. Even Diego looked as if he’d rather handle a rattlesnake. The healer continued to shake his stick.
I scanned the circle for Honovi. He was gone. “Honovi?” I yelled.
Did the Apache take him when I wasn’t watching?
And what was happening? What was Hunab Ku doing to the sun? Where was it?
When a black shadow had completely covered the sun, the wind began to howl again, louder and harder than ever before. It was almost impossible to stand upright. Leaves, dirt, and pieces of the Apache village swirled in violent circles, filling my eyes and nose with dust and dirt. I shielded my face in the curve of my elbow. Above, the birds began to screech in a deafening frenzy as the wind blew through the trees.
But then through the howling wind and blowing dirt, I heard a voice. “Aiyana! Give me your hand!”
I looked up.
Honovi yelled from the top of Diego’s horse. His voice was muffled against the wind. Shielding my eyes with one hand, I reached for him with the other, stretching my fingers as far as they could go.
Honovi grabbed me by the forearm, hard.
Blindly, I started to run with his hand wrapped around my arm. Before I could catch my next breath, I swung one leg upwards and found my place behind him on the horse.
The horse’s movements pounded against the ground, drowning out the wind.
I tightened my arms around Honovi’s waist as we bounced on his back. My chest pressed against him, my breathing matching his.
It was like flying.
I lowered my chin into his shoulder, struggling to see the path ahead. But we were completely blinded by the windstorm. We had to trust Diego’s horse to find its way down the mountain. And that the sun would one day return to its rightful place in the sky.
The last thing I heard from the Apache village was the faint call of Lobo’s bark.
It sounded like
goodbye
.
***
We rode down Apache Mountain until our legs burned.
Somewhere during the escape, the blinding wind turned to rain, cold and sharp, stinging our faces. The sky darkened another menacing shade as we charged deeper into the forest. Tree branches brushed against our bodies, slicing our skin in places and pulling our hair, but there was little we could do. Diego’s mad horse refused to stop.
My arms wrapped around Honovi as tightly as I’d ever clung to anyone. I buried my chin against his shoulder. His every breath pushed against my chest and for that I was thankful. If the horse leapt over the edge of a bottomless cliff, at least we’d meet Hunab Ku together.
“Whoa!” Honovi yelled over and over, desperate to stop the beast when the mountain grew so steep it felt like we could drop into the sky. Honovi tightened the rope and I pulled back on his waist with all my being but it was for naught. The horse vaulted over rocks and ridges and galloped between trees, oblivious to our weight.
“The cliffs!” I screamed over Honovi’s shoulder into the wind. Air rushed down my throat, muffling my voice. “Watch out for the cliffs!” Although we couldn’t see them, the cliffs were near. We’d ridden well past the clearing. And from the chill, the edge loomed dangerously close.
Honovi tugged again on the rope, hard. Every muscle in his body tightened beneath my hands. Mercifully, the horse began to slow from exhaustion but not before taking his final leap.
And that’s when I fell.
I’d only relaxed my hold from Honovi’s waist for a heartbeat when I slipped off the horse’s backside as easily as a waterfall. A scream wedged deep inside my throat. I flew into the air, weightless, before I crashed into the grass, my chest heaving from the rush.
As hard as I fell, I was glad to be off the horse. The ground spun less quickly.
Dazed, I stared up into the dark sky as the cold wet grass seeped through my deerskin. Streaks of white light began to poke through the treetops and I smiled. Hunab Ku was indeed kind: he’d returned the sun to its rightful place.
All at once, Honovi knelt above me, the whites of his eyes brimming with fright. “Aiyana!” he said. “Are you all right?” His hands, warm and raw from the rope, pressed against my cheek, my shoulders, my arms, examining for broken bones. Prodding me to speak.
Instead of fright, I couldn’t help but smile at him, too. His hair, loose and wet, hung wildly about his face. I reached up a hand to push away a dripping strand from his eyes. “I’m fine,” I said, adding a tired laugh even as the rain soaked us. “I’ll be all right.”
Honovi’s eyes softened but then his whole face went dark. “Why didn’t you wait for me back at the village?” he yelled through the rain, as angry as I’d ever seen him. “Why didn’t you listen? I had a plan. Couldn’t you do as I asked, just this once?”
Shocked, my smile faded.
Wait?
How could I have waited? I was about to wed a stranger!
I lifted onto my elbows, dizzy, and then rose to my knees. My whole body shook with rage. My fists clenched as Honovi’s hands locked around my shoulders. I opened my mouth to answer him but, frustratingly, no words would come. Instead I breathed heavy, glaring at him through the rain.
But Honovi continued. “You could have been killed!”
I wanted to toss my head back and laugh in his face. I wanted to remind him that we both could have been killed—every sun and moonrise since leaving our village. But instead of laughter, my shoulders caved forward with fatigue, all the fight draining from my body like rain into the earth. Why were we fighting? I couldn’t fight with Honovi. Not now. Not ever.
Then my lip began to quiver and I cursed myself for it. Only a child would cry at a time like this. I bit down to stop it but biting didn’t help. Then I raised my eyes to his through the pounding rain. I shook my head, still searching for the right words. What could I say to make him understand? I barely understood any of it. My head ached with frustration.
And Honovi wouldn’t release me.
“I tried to wait,” I said finally, as tears built behind my eyes. Heavy raindrops collected on my eyelashes. “I tried but I couldn’t.” My body shook harder beneath his hands. “And I was frightened.” I stifled a sob. “Running to find you was the only thing I knew how to do.” I blinked away the raindrops. “I couldn’t lose you.”
Honovi’s eyes softened a little beneath his soggy hair. Gently, he squeezed my shoulders but that only made it worse. It was like an invitation. I began to cry openly. Unabashedly. Holding back my tears was impossible.
Embarrassed, I tried to turn away. I despised crying. But Honovi wouldn’t let me lower my face.
Instead, he pulled me closer. First he stroked the back of my head as my sobs competed with the rain. Then his hands reached for my face. As my tears continued to fall, his mouth found mine.