Yuila makes a fatal mistake.
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Read into the world of shadows and mirrors.
♫♪Suggested Music: from Uncertain Times on AudioNetwork
Camp was made early that evening in a shady copse of semi-tropical trees that marked a change in the landscape. For a while Mina had been aware of the grass becoming taller, lusher in thick green blades, and the fern-like bushes sprouting in clumps along the trade road. The trees they made camp under were white barked, like birch, but their branches held large lozenge shaped leaves similar to enormous green petals rather than leaves.
She could only compare them to banana leaves she'd seen in the specialty section of the green grocer in Chicago where her mother occasionally got her favorite matcha and fresh adzuki beans. She was still looking at the leaves overhead when Yuila came running up to her with the ugliest piece of vegetation she'd ever seen.
"Sapo, can we eat this?" the girl asked, panting from running. She held out an oval of variegated greens the size of her hand, the skin covered with pointy half-inch spikes, holding it carefully.
"Where did you get that?" Mina looked closer at the fruit, frowning. "Are you sure it's not alive?"
Yuila yelped and dropped it. The oval didn't crawl away, so they crouched to look at it.
"Geez, Yuila, did you pick if off a bush or was it already lying on the ground when you found it?"
"Oh, I picked it."
Mina shook her head. "Then it's not a live animal." Sometimes there was no joking with the Crone. She rolled it over, avoiding the sharp spines. A shadow fell over them and they both looked up to see Edvard.
"Hey, a curbit," he said, squatting beside them.
"Can we eat it?" Yuila asked as he picked it up.
"Yup. Lots of seeds in a jelly-like substance." He grinned. "Get a few more, Yuila, because you're going to like them."
He was right about the curbit. They all enjoyed the pale lime green gel inside the cucumber type fruit, despite the inordinate amount of seeds. Yuila carefully sucked the citrusy-melon flavored gel off half a dozen seeds, setting them to one side of her plate at supper, before Edvard finally began his query.
“What are—?”
"I want to take the seeds home," she said as soon as the words were half out of his mouth.
He shook his head in defeat. "Why don't you just take home a curbit? You'll have more than enough seeds then."
"Oh." She looked sheepishly to the extra fruits near their packs. "Okay."
Mina looked to him as his attention went back to his own plate of bread, goat sausage, and hard rind white cheese. She didn't need to read his mind to know he was thinking how well the Crone's mind reading abilities were progressing. She wondered if it was only a matter of time before Yuila could read her mind, too.
She watched the girl hold a curbit half, its spines removed, and scoop out the gel with a spoon. She was curious if there would be bellyaches later. Probably not. Edvard wouldn't encourage something like that, not when he'd have to listen to the girl's caterwauling, too.
Maybe he'd be okay with the truth, she thought, running her own spoon along the curbit half she held. They didn't eat the flesh inside, as it was pithy and bland. She collected the light green into a scoop and ate it, smiling at the delicate flavor. Maybe he'd believe her. This was a land of disappearing Crones and two moons in the night heavens; maybe her story wouldn't be so outrageous.
She spit out an exceptionally large hard seed into the pile they'd made over the course of the meal. And maybe he'd tell her to get lost and be angry for wasting his time. She didn't want that. More than anything, she didn't want that.
But the truth would have to be told, she reminded herself, timidly looking to him. His eyes were on Yuila, and she knew he was probably struggling to not think. She knew she had to struggle with it sometimes, a few times embarrassingly so.
She sighed, looking back to the curbit. The truth would have to come out soon, and she'd have to face the outcome.
They left the next morning just as the first sun peaked the horizon in the grassland distance. They traveled for most of the morning, with Edvard walking Neito for a while midway to lunch. They stopped for an hour a little past noon for the meal, resting under a small stand of broadleaf trees that provided not nearly enough shade. Yuila had grown antsy and bored, braiding and rebraiding her hair several times while Edvard packed the animals to move on after the break.
The horses and mule were reluctant to move out in the humid heat that was rolling along the tall green grass to each side of the road. Makka rebelled by having to be prodded with a stick, which Yuila was only too happy to do, pulling Sova alongside the mule as he bellowed in protest.
"That's enough," Edvard said as the girl prepared to whack the stubborn animal again when they were in motion.
Yuila sighed, looking out over the thread of road meandering through sparsely treed grass. "Can I run Sova today?"
Mina rolled her eyes. It was the third time already that the girl was asking, and they'd only just begun.
"No." It was the same reply Edvard had given each time.
"Later?"
"No; it's going to be too hot, Yuila."
Mina settled in for a long day. He'd shown her on the map their route for the next few days. Today's travel should take them to the foothills of Tūtu, and then a day over the mountains to the coast of Prima Lūce. After that he wasn't sure how long it would take to find Yuila's village of Lan Muir, but he figured no more than a day.
She sighed. The long journey was wrapping up for the younger girl. She wondered if Yuila was ready to face her parents. She looked over at her, estimating the girl's exaggerated pout, fiddling with the reins buried in Sova's black mane. Neito stepped in a shallow dip and Mina grunted at the impact that jarred her shoulder.
"Still sore?" Edvard asked, glancing to her over his shoulder.
She nodded. "A little." She looked to his left hand on the reins at the saddle, which was wrapped as tightly as she could make it and still be functional. His right hand was worse, the flesh more ripped than intact at one side of the palm. Her hand rested just below his bandaged ribs at his left side, and it left her wondering if they could complete the trip without further injury.
"When you said I could tell you anything," she began in a low tone, trying to keep Yuila from hearing, "that I remember," she added, losing her nerve, "about my home, I kind of get some small memories. Just now and then, but they don't make sense," she said, hoping she could ease into the subject. If she was going to tell him the truth in a few days, she figured telling him a little at a time might lessen the shock.
He nodded, glancing to Yuila, who was busying herself by braiding a thin strand of Sova's mane. "Like what?"
She took a deep breath, then stopped when her pectoral muscles caught a shooting pain. "Well, just differences in home, and here," she admitted hesitantly. The day's heat was getting to her despite her hair being pulled into a ponytail at the back of her head. Yuila had set the comb above the tie, and Mina had tried to see her reflection in the copper pot that morning.
"Like what?"
She searched for the proper way to say advanced without sounding condescending. She came up with nothing. "We do things a little differently." She immediately wished she hadn't started the conversation yet, at least not this way. "We generally travel by, well, by wagon or cart," she said, regretting the choice of words.
"We could," he said, nodding, "but it would be slower. For us, anyway, and we don't have that much for supplies. Lots of people use wagons. Like the gypsies we found."
A shudder went through her when she thought of the massacre they'd come upon earlier, her fingers unconsciously tightening on his shirt.
"What other differences?"
She deliberated a long moment before deciding against trying to explain anything while she couldn't fully delve into the subject. She was still trying to think of another subject when suddenly there was a kicking thump from her side, and Sova and Yuila shot past them.
She and Edvard sat speechless for a fleeting second as Yuila pummeled the mare's sides at a full gallop across the grassy savannah.
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