The Path to the Sun

Chapter 10

  Chapter 10

It was late when they approached the Lendhi camp. The scent of roasting meat and wood smoke wafted on the air and Kiran picked up the pace. He hadn’t eaten since the night before and even then it had been meager—stale bread, a bite of cheese washed down with what little water was left.

Eight dome-shaped tents formed a circle around a blazing fire where the clan bustled about, working to preserve the kill of the day. Kiran whispered to Roh, “Is this how they live? In homes made of sticks and animal hides?”

“They follow the beasts as they move across the flatlands.”

The Lendhi folk stole glances at the young Torans and exchanged subtle gestures as Haktu led them to an area out of the way and bade them to sit. He left without a word and disappeared inside one of the tents.

The clan numbered about sixty, that Kiran could see, young and old, each focused on a task. Mealtime was past, it seemed; children were cleaning bowls and utensils as scruffy dogs scurried about, sniffing for scraps.

Nearby, two men stood at a makeshift table, cutting chunks of meat into long strips while several women carefully draped the bloody pieces over the rungs of a drying rack that had been erected over a smoldering fire. An elderly man shuffled back and forth between the two fires, moving one hot coal at a time, slipping the embers under the drying rack.

Two women approached with a basket of meat, fresh berries, and a bladder of water. The Torans stumbled over each other to get a share, grabbing handfuls and gulping them down. The women bowed, exchanging looks of disgust between them. Roh thanked them kindly. Kiran stopped chewing and through a mouth full of food said, “Yes, thank you.”

A tiny, naked girl of about three years sauntered over to them and stood staring, her large, round eyes pools of innocent curiosity. She clung to a tiny doll fashioned from dried reeds whose braided hair matched her own.

Deke leaned toward Roh. “What were you thinking? We can’t stay with these heathen savages. They are uncivilized. Just look at them. They live like animals. Their children run about naked.” He tore into another bite of meat with his teeth. “We can’t trust them.”

“Which ones do you mean?” Roh asked, his face expressionless. “The men who saved your life tonight or the women who just fed you?”

Deke paused, his mouth full of food. His eyes narrowed and he furrowed his brow. He chewed, then chewed again, then without a word turned away and swallowed.

At last, Haktu emerged from the tent and walked directly toward them. “Tonight you request.”

Kiran looked to Roh, who shook his head. “We don't understand,” he said. “You will take us to the river?”

“If Spirits’ will.”

“Spirits?”

“By Manu-amatu,” said Haktu, matter-of-factly.

“Oh,” said Kiran, nodding as though he understood; but he understood nothing. What was Manu-amatu? A path?

Haktu patted Kiran on the shoulder, as if he were an innocent child. “Is Lendhi way.”

He left them where they sat and headed back to the tent.

Soon, the Lendhi clan put down their work and gathered round the fire, their eyes glittering with anticipation. A man with a long, barrel-shaped drum carved from a tree trunk, an animal skin stretched taut across the opening, sat down and with the palms of his hands started to pound out a beat—a slow, steady ba-boom, ba-boom that vibrated in Kiran’s chest. From one of the tents came a line of dancers, stomping to the rhythm, feathers and bones swaying on flowing garments of fur and brightly colored cloth, bracelets of blue and green stones jangling at their wrists and ankles. Each carried a wooden bowl of dried leaves that seemed the focus of their dance. Haktu was among them.