Mina rises to face a challenge.
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♫♪Suggested Music: from Uncertain Times on AudioNetwork
The next morning dawned bright, humid, and muddy. The yurt had been muggy all night, and the double suns overhead outside compounded what promised to be a sweltering day. Mina and Yuila packed their belongings as Edvard watered and saddled the horses. They both wore the gauze dresses he'd given them the night before, and Mina was grateful for the lighter mulberry material, especially after glimpsing the hazy sunshine that morning.
It was nearly noon by the time they actually left the village. The supplies were delivered and the horses and mule were saddled and packed when one of the boys who'd been at the river with Yuila came up to them with a leather bag.
"From my mother," he explained, his eyes on Yuila for a long moment. "Safe journey."
Yuila smiled big, petting Sova's black nose.
Edvard took the bag carefully and Mina caught a whiff of something delicious. She looked to Yuila who was climbing astride the mare.
"Our thanks to your mother," Edvard said.
The boy stepped back, still watching Yuila.
Edvard climbed into Neito's saddle and helped Mina up. She avoided his injured side, and tried to put most of her weight on the heel of her foot when mounting. As they moved out through the village, she turned to see Makka begrudgingly follow, then her attention went to where the boy was trailing at a distance. Beyond him Mahasha had halted midway through the village, but the boy still followed at a slowing pace. On the mare Yuila was already busy eating a piece of smoked salmon Edvard had given her.
At the edge of the outer circle of yurts the boy halted. Mina turned around and let her glance fall to Yuila riding beside them, then to the road ahead.
They rode for the first two hours, and then Edvard walked, leading the gelding and refusing to let Mina walk. Yuila sat limp in her saddle, half dozing and whining intermittently about the heat. A few hours after noon they stopped for water at a small brook that cut through the roadway beneath a stone bridge, heading east to a country they knew would not welcome non-Crones.
Camp was made well before dark in a shady copse of trees four hours later, and Edvard took the animals to the cooler ferns that fringed pond nearby. Mina discovered that the smells coming from the leather sack were unlike any food she'd seen in any village they'd visited. As she began to unpack the bag, Yuila settled closer, her teal skirt already smudged with dirt at her knees.
"Ooh, it looks good," she said, leaning over to watch the crocks Mina pulled out.
"Sure does." The first crock was corked snuggly, and inside were thick buckwheat noodles and carrots with smoked fish in what smelled like chicken stock. Mina smiled, wondering if it was a traditional Crone dish.
"My mother always uses crab for it," Yuila said, sticking her finger in the broth. "But this looks good, too."
"I hope you washed your hands."
The girl shrugged, licking off the liquid. "I helped water Sova."
Mina groaned. "It's not the same thing." She brought out two more crocks, opening them to see yogurt balls marinated in herbed olive oil in one, and a thick tomato salsa with okra pods and basil in the other.
Yuila immediately picked out a creamy white lump of yogurt that had become only slightly frayed with the horse ride. "My mother makes these, too."
Mina had the feeling Mahasha knew exactly what Yuila's stomach would be missing most. She resisted the urge to ask anything about Mahasha or Prima Lūce. She glanced to the pond where Edvard was wiping down the horses. His movements were slower than they'd been even last week, unwilling to use his left arm as much as he usually did when tending the animals.
Yuila was on her second yogurt ball. "He killed that man in Sel Deuo, Sapo."
Mina looked quickly to her. Yuila's cheeks were bulging with the dairy blobs. "You're mistaken, Yuila. He didn't—"
"He keeps thinking it," the girl said quietly. "He doesn't want us to know."
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