Though my own expression is bereft when I say, “Now that I know, what do I do?”
“That’s always the question, isn’t it?” His gaze grows so hooded, so shadowed, it’s impossible to read. “I’m afraid my guidance ends here. The next move is yours.”
I balk. Sure he can’t be serious. Despite the absolute finality of his expression, his word. “You’re abandoning me? Now? Just when I need you the most?”
“I’ve taught you as well as I was able. Instilled within you the necessity of rooting yourself firmly in your own truth.”
I stare at him incredulously. “And what kind of truth is that?” I motion toward the bones. “I never wanted this! Everything you taught me brought me closer to the light. And now . . .” I rake a hand through my hair, press my fists to my eyes. Hardly able to believe the horrible turn destiny has decided to make.
“Know this.” Leftfoot rests a comforting hand on my shoulder. “It’s never enough to just accumulate knowledge and skills. It’s what a person does with what he knows that defines who he is.”
“Every man must decide the kind of path he’ll walk.” I return my focus to the bones, reciting yet another of Leftfoot’s many lessons. “Turns out it’s not true at all. I never wanted this path. Never asked for any of this.”
“Didn’t you?” Leftfoot moves away, all the while watching me intently. But I can’t meet his look. Can’t bear the truth in his gaze. “You made your choice that day in the sweat lodge. And now it seems it’s taken on a life of its own.”
I clutch at my stomach, feeling sick, drunk, as though I might vomit. I stoop toward the dirt. Duck my head low until the key that swings forward, slaps at my chin, serves as a sobering reminder that no matter how dire the prophecy, I can’t afford to give in.
Daire.
Everything I did was for her—for us—and now look.
“Only one way to vanquish the dark . . .”
I shake my head, struggle to pull myself up. My eyes finding his as I say, “Turn on the light?”
“The question is, will you? Can you? Or is it too late?”
I turn to see Chay and Cree, watching intently, their faces etched with deep lines of worry. Then I return my focus to the bone fragments before me. Shifting my focus from image to image until the message is sealed on my brain, hardwired into my soul. And, when it’s done, it seems I know just what to do.
I raise both hands before me, like a maestro conducting a symphony, and send the bones whirling back into the fire. Only, this time, instead of exploding, they snuff out the flames.
The cave grows dark.
The temperature drops.
And without so much as a single word between us, we gather our belongings and find our way back. The elders maintaining a wide berth around me now that my truth is revealed.
They fear me.
No doubt they should.
Still, it’s nothing compared to the fear I feel toward myself.
TEN
DAIRE
After a busy day of performing healings and determining the spirit animals of newborns (always my favorite), I head for Kachina’s stall in search of some fresh air and the clarity that often comes from a nice long ride. Needing to slip away for a bit before my house fills with friends and I’ll be forced to make good on Lita’s request that I start accepting their offers to help.
Kachina bobs her head up and down and whinnies in greeting, as Cat crouches and glares from the corner of the stall. Though he doesn’t scram the second he sees me as he usually does, and I consider that progress.
I toss a bridle onto Kachina and lead her from the yard. Allowing my horse to wander aimlessly as my mind does the same.
Usually I try hard to guide it, stay focused, on track. But today my fatigue overrules me, and it’s not long before I’m immersed in the memory of the day we lowered my abuela’s body into the earth. The ripe scent of freshly churned soil—the plaintive call of the lone raven soaring overhead—so immediate, so accessible, it’s as though I’m transported in time.
It’s been six full months since she passed.
Six full months since Cade Richter’s last heinous act.