Zayza burst through the flap of her tent into the pounding sun.
This time, Chiwawo was the one startled. Standing on guard outside her tent like yesterday, he gripped his staff tighter at her sudden appearance.
"Oh. Good morning, Princess," he said, easing up. "How did you sl–"
"Guide me to the Tribe Father," Zayza requested.
"Huh?"
"Sorry…please."
Chiwawo stared at her, his eyebrows lowering. He let out a chuckle. "Where is this coming from, all of the sudden?"
Immediately, Zayza wished she'd thought through this step before blurting out her request. She couldn't tell him of her further findings in the Dream World–of the second Memory Triangle. Not yet.
"This may be uncharted territory…But nonetheless, the truth you seek is in our way. In our history…"
The unknown voice from the past had offered wisdom to Hiroko. And yet, it also set Zayza on this new path.
It seemed too coincidental not to be related: so far when Zayza experienced Hidakalan history and culture, it triggered the Memory Triangles in the Dream World. All she needed, then, was to put herself in that environment more.
Hirochota had mentioned introducing her to the 'Tribe Father' yesterday. If anyone seemed like they'd know the most about Hidakalan history, it would be someone with a title like that.
Perhaps this man's knowledge could be the catalyst to the rest of Hiroko's memories, and help uncover the answer to why this was happening in the first place.
"Um…Princess?"
Zayza jolted back to her present reality. The pressure of Chiwawo's icy, curious eyes slowed her ability to contrive an explanation even further.
If only Lammy or Layla were here to help me plan this out better…she lamented. It seems I rely on their wit more than I realized…
"Well, I…" she started, "I'm just curious…about your tribe?"
All I could come up with was the watered-down truth?! she despaired.
"Is that all? Even I can help you with that. I already planned to," Chiwawo assured. "The Tribe Father is extremely busy."
"Well then…when he returns, I would still very much like to meet him," Zayza insisted. "If that's alright."
Chiwawo shrugged. "I suppose…but it's not that he's gone anywhere," he clarified. "Not physically."
Zayza's perplexity halted his words.
Chiwawo sighed. "Come on. Follow me. It is easier to show you."
After offering her bread at his tent first to save himself from his mother's fury, Chiwawo led the way. Their walk brought them close to the very center of the village, where the sand was increasingly less pressed by footprints.
At this point, the only other Hidakalan walking by was a woman carrying a bucket of water and a basket of food. She reached a lonely tent with no neighboring structures around it.
The tent was smaller than Zayza's, and unlike any of the others she'd seen, made from all-black fabric. A single guard stood before it, his mostly-exposed skin covered in almost as many triangle tattoos as Hiroko. He wielded a spear with massive black feathers at the end, the same shade as the tent he watched over.
The woman reached the tent, lowered the nourishment beside its closed flap, and faced the guard. She bent to her knees and bowed down, hands and feet flat with her forehead kissing the sand.
The guard mirrored the motion and rose back to position. Then, the woman quietly departed.
She exchanged waves with Chiwawo in passing, now much less formal. Even though both were well within hearing range, they'd remained quiet.
Taking the hint, Zayza made a note not to speak up. She matched Chiwawo's steady steps up to the tent.
Chiwawo faced the guard and began crouching down. He paused and tapped Zayza's arm, signaling her to do the same.
She could feel the guard's stare straight through her as she tried to watch Chiwawo from the ground and awkwardly mimic his form, brushing her hair away to see better. The sand, though soothingly gentle, was nearly warm enough to burn her palms.
Zayza was finally convinced she'd completed the bow successfully, but Chiwawo didn't move, and neither did the guard.
Chiwawo tried to grunt something unintelligible her way.
"Hm?"
She felt his hand not-so-subtly find her head and press it against the ground.
For a moment, she could feel her entire body moving.
No–it wasn't her. There were tremors in the ground below. They came and went.
They felt…alive.
When she realized Chiwawo was almost back to his feet already, Zayza rushed to catch up.
But instead of returning the bow like before, the guard suddenly raised his staff and stabbed it back into the ground. Zayza pounced.
Chiwawo nodded to the guard, and then to her too as if this concluded his promised explanation. He gestured towards the closed tent entrance.
Zayza squinted her eyes. Only a sliver was open, and at first, it appeared nothing was in the tent at all.
But then she noticed a figure so still, she'd assumed it was a shadow.
A skeleton–no, a man–sat motionless in the very center. His feet and hands were flat against the sand, and his eyes were closed.
That was all she had time to notice before Chiwawo tapped her shoulder and began walking away.
The tent's entrance tugged at Zayza's wonder. But if staying meant standing alone in the shadow of this inscrutable guard, she quickly found it best to follow Chiwawo.
She only made it a single step, however.
"Chiwawo…The one you have brought to me cannot see or hear."
Chiwawo and Zayza paused. The words had come from inside the tent.
That voice…Zayza thought.
She spun to face the tent again. She'd only spoken to a handful of Hidakalan men so far, yet Zayza was certain she'd heard him before. In fact, his tone had been embedded into her mind since last night.
It's the man from Hiroko's memory, she recognized. That man was the Tribe Father…
But it didn't quite add up. Why was the same man, who had offered her the very guidance that led her here, so closed-off to her now?
The reminder set in. It wasn't me he talked to. It was Hiroko.
No matter how real it felt, nor how relevant, that memory wasn't hers. That wisdom wasn't for her.
I am an outsider, after all, she tried to accept. Perhaps I just…read into it too much.
"I apologize, Tribe Father," Chiwawo urged beside her. "She was seeking your knowledge."
Zayza averted her eyes from the tent to him. Despite shrugging off her will to come here earlier, he was defending it–and perhaps her dignity–in front of others.
More than that: in front of the authority.
Chiwawo dropped into another bow.
Zayza stood stiff, unsure if she was supposed to join again–or allowed to, for that matter.
"Give her feet ears, and I will teach them to hear. Give them eyes, and I will teach them to open."
Chiwawo lifted his head.
"Only then can I point her towards the answers she seeks in her new journey."
Chiwawo and Zayza studied the tent in silence. Even the guard turned its way. But the Tribe Father didn't speak any further.
"Yes, Tribe Father," Chiwawo uttered. "Come, Princess."
They departed, and the extra air of reverence faded with Zayza's steps as they returned to the populated areas of the village. Zayza watched a crowd of children chase each other between tents, their screams breathing life into their weathered surroundings.
"He…knew it was us," Zayza reflected. "Even though he couldn't see us, and even though we didn't say a word."
"Actually, you did go 'Hm?' when I tried showing you how to bow," Chiwawo pointed out, attempting to mimic her higher pitch.
Zayza flushed. "Is that why? Did I interrupt his prayer?"
Chiwawo's chest bounced with his laugh. "I am teasing you, Princess. Believe me, he knew it was us well before we reached the tent," he assured.
"How?"
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"It is the thing you called 'prayer–' though it is a bit different than that," Chiwawo told her. "The Gods Below are not some intangible being that we have to guess about and hope our wishes reach them–they are very much alive, and they dwell deep underneath our sands. They always have."
Chiwawo stopped walking, so Zayza joined. He pointed at her feet.
"Look at the sand holding you up. Feel how it cradles you between your toes," he invited.
Zayza tried–but she noticed nothing particularly special about it. It was merely sand, no different than that of the Azvaylen shore back home. It was much hotter, and perhaps a bit softer, but it was sand nonetheless.
"The first Hidakalans were born from this sand thousands of years ago," Chiwawo taught. "The Gods Below conceived us, and our bodies rose to the surface as celebrations of their glory. Just like the ground we came from, we are meant to be sacred reflections of their holiness."
He tossed his staff into the air, and watched it sink back into the sand.
"Gravity is our constant reminder, and our natural encouraging force," he shared. "It guides us back to holiness. The more our feet remain connected to these sacred sands, the more we are able to glorify our Creators."
Zayza watched him study the village. His eyes lingered on the distant Lake Hirokyauta, and she could see his ponderings intensify on his face.
But even still, she wasn't so sure how literally this myth of origin could hold up. After all, gravity existed all over the Multiverse.
And while she could certainly feel rumblings when she placed her forehead to the sand earlier, deities wouldn't have been her first logical attribution. If somebody chose to dig deeper and deeper under Hidakala, would they eventually reach the physical bodies of these Gods?
Regardless, his words lingered in her head like a dreamy song; like when Raznizu would read her and her sisters old legends of the Zinn.
"That is wonderfully poetic," Zayza sighed. "So…when he said I cannot 'see or hear,' he meant since I'm an outsider, I don't believe?"
"He means it literally," Chiwawo insisted. "Hidakalans feel the will of the Gods Below through our feet, and we use it to guide us. Even our children do so."
He gestured to the little Hidakalans a few tents away, who were now sitting in a circle catching their breath and teasing each other. All of them sat with their feet planted flat on the sand.
Zayza realized why it seemed so familiar: Hiroko had often sat just like that, despite being far from Hidakala and distancing herself from many of its customs. Perhaps it was an unconscious habit grown from years of tradition.
"While it is something we all do, it's the Tribe Father's role to only do that–to listen to the Gods Below constantly, and allow them to show him their guidance for our tribe as a whole," said Chiwawo.
"Then," pondered Zayza, "was his instruction–or, the Gods' instruction, I suppose–for you to teach me how to gain this sense?"
"That is how it sounded," Chiwawo uttered, "but it seems wrong. You are not Hidakalan. It is not in your nature."
"Hey! It's Chiwawo!"
"Hi Chiwawo!!"
The children had finally spotted him standing there, and raised a flurry of waves and beaming smiles his way.
He grinned and returned their greeting.
"Hello," Zayza joined in.
All at once, the entire group of children went silent. Their smiles vanished in place of distant, uncertain stares.
Zayza lowered her waving hand uncomfortably.
"Oh, come on, now. She is our friend," Chiwawo challenged them. "Hey, make sure you drink water! It will be hotter soon!"
Their giddy demeanor gradually returned as they stood and continued their game.
Zayza watched them run around. "Then what if…the Tribe Father means I need to become a Hidakalan–"
Suddenly, Chiwawo's hand pressed against her mouth. Her heart skipped.
Chiwawo's eyes darted around to make sure nobody was close enough to hear. But they seemed to wear the guilt of whatever Zayza's words had insinuated, as if he'd been the one responsible for the thought.
"Princess, please do not suggest such an idea–not out loud," he hushed. "Years of circumstances have conditioned our people not to trust outsiders so easily. Such a suggestion is more than this tribe is ready to approve."
'Not out loud?' Zayza highlighted as Chiwawo removed his hand.
"Then…you do believe it could be what the Tribe Father meant?" she practically whispered.
Chiwawo watched her for a moment. "I…haven't decided," he said. "I am sorry, Princess. If that is the Gods' will…I wouldn't even know what achieving that would look like–"
"Oh!"
Despite their discussion's intensity, Zayza couldn't help but look past him. A woman several tents down the village had just fallen to the sand, spilling multiple baskets in every direction.
Zayza ran to the woman. As she drew closer and joined her, thankfully, the woman sat up and dusted off her dress.
"Um…are you–" Zayza tried.
"STUPID HEAT STONES! Here, how do YOU like it?!"
The woman grabbed a handful of the spilled pebbles and chucked them against the sand with all her might.
"Uh…"
"What?!" the woman hissed, spinning to see her. "Oh…the cloudskin girl. Greetings."
Zayza paused, her smile crooked. "Um, are you okay?" she tried again.
The woman shifted to her knees and began gathering the slightly-buried stones one-by-one.
"I am fine, of course. But thank you, outsider."
She returned all attention to her task. Soon, Zayza could only watch in discomfort for so long.
She lowered to the ground with the woman, retrieving any stones she could find. Zayza recognized their deep gray complexion quickly: they were the same special rocks Chiwawo used to heat up embers in her tent at night. Resting in her palms, they were even softer than some of her old Azvaylen gems.
Zayza looked up when she finally realized the woman had stopped recovering them. Instead she was still, glaring at Zayza in utter bewilderment.
"What are you doing?"
Zayza froze. "Um…I'm sorry…You looked like you could use some help," she said. "So these are the stones we use to heat our tents?"
"Clearly. Are those cloudskin eyes as frail as your body?" she pressed. "It is my duty to gather these at the base of the northern dunes and distribute them daily."
Something about Zayza's attentive intrigue seemed to disgust her.
"...If you must know," she added.
"This seems like a lot to carry," noted Zayza.
"Well I normally work in a group…but Kelekoha has been ill, and Hauwawa and Yakotula are both very pregnant," she groaned. "Isn't it a bit disrespectful to have a child when you know your team member will, too?!"
Um…I'm not sure that's a fair critique…Zayza kept to herself.
The woman shook her head. "This will take me triple the time. I'll have to work into nightfall. Just don't tell the guards."
"Perhaps…I can help you finish," Zayza offered.
The woman simply laughed. "Thank you, but what could you do with that feathery form?" she dismissed. "Your offer is cute, but this is not a job an outsider can handle. Besides, I said I'm fine."
"Oh Nahutala, enough of that," came Chiwawo's voice from behind.
He stood over them now, shaking his head with a smirk.
"Can't you give the Princess a chance to try?"
Nahutala rolled her eyes. "Etâ vonik buzen fui hirofuen bon," she told him, pointing at Zayza.
"Bonzen zuifen tal," Chiwawo retorted, a glint in his eye. They both snickered.
What's this…? I can't understand this tongue? realized Zayza. How can that be?
But whatever Chiwawo's witty retort was, it seemed to soften Nahutala's adversity a bit.
"Eh…" She shook her head, but this time with a smile. "Fine. I will let you play, cloudskin. I mean…Princess Zayza," she said, poking her head out for dramatic emphasis. "But I am sending you home the second you slow me down."
"O–okay."
~
The initial part of their work proved easy enough, aside from the searing sunlight that Zayza accepted she'd just have to get used to. After collecting all the stones they could find from the spill, they brought them across the village to a pile beside Nahutala's tent.
But it appeared the true work had just begun.
Nahutala guided Zayza beyond the tribe structures, to the outskirts of the village–and then beyond that, too. They eventually cleared the width of the Curving Peak in the distance.
Zayza, strapped into the same sandals as her failed hike yesterday, powered forward with extra vigor. She clutched her basket and hand shovel tightly.
I'll show Chiwawo I'm more than capable this time, she resolved. Then he'll have no choice but to let me go back up to that cliff.
The farther they walked, the more Zayza anticipated a journey similarly difficult. But she was properly nourished and hydrated now: nothing could blindside her.
"Are you a woman?" Nahutala suddenly called behind them.
Zayza frowned in bafflement.
"Do I look like one?" came Chiwawo's retort a few paces behind. "This may be a woman's task, but it is my duty to watch after the Princess. I must follow you."
Nahutala rolled her eyes. "Fumen zai für gonlen tal ful."
"It is my mother's wish," Chiwawo stressed. "And the Princess was Hirokyauta's companion. So I will honor it."
There it is again…Zayza noted. A spoken language I cannot understand…
"Um…not to be rude," she inquired, "but why am I unable to follow some of your speech?"
"Because Nahutala is being unfair," Chiwawo accused composedly. "She is using our ancient dialect."
"It is beautiful. Our holy tongue," Nahutala defended. "The ancient Hidakalans spoke only in those words. Our language evolved and simplified over the years, mostly to communicate with other tribes and outsiders. But our elders have passed down our true language since the beginning."
Zayza nodded politely at her prideful explication, though it didn't quite answer her question.
"All consciousnesses are born with the ability to understand spoken languages of all realities, right?" Nahutala led. "That's what you are taught?"
Zayza nodded more confidently.
It's always been that way…that's just…true.
"Wrong," Nahutala said bluntly. "Not all languages–not the ones that existed well before consciousnesses did."
A time before consciousnesses…? Zayza pondered, her mind whirling at the concept.
"It is sacred," Chiwawo concluded. "Or if you're Nahutala, it is just a way to poke fun at people without them knowing."
"Oh, cry about it."
Zayza sulked to herself. YOU were doing it earlier too, Chiwawo…she accused silently.
What must have been over an hour passed before Zayza noticed a sudden dip in the sand they approached, spanning much of what she could see.
Deciding to consider it a checkpoint, Zayza gritted her teeth and forced her steps harder. Her sweat dripped into the thirsty ground as she followed this seemingly directionless hike.
Nahutala checked back for the first time in a while. She'd broken ahead by several paces now and left Zayza in the dust, even when Chiwawo urged her to slow. But this time, upon seeing Zayza, she stopped.
"Huh. So the cloudskin actually made it this far," she noted.
Zayza simply gasped, too breathless to reply as she joined Nahutala near the start of the hill.
"You do this daily, huh?" noted Chiwawo close behind, void of any fatigue. He looked around. "Wait, did you get us lost?"
Please no…for the love of all that is good in this Multiverse…Zayza begged internally.
"Don't be a fool, Chiwawo. I know how to listen." Nahutala pointed at her bare feet. "Come on. We are here."
They approached the sharp, vast slope and stood at its edge. The bottom was nearly as far as the ground when standing at the top of an Azvaylen tower. At the base the sand appeared denser and darker, but it faded back into the usual landscape as it evened out into an endless continuation of the desert.
Nahutala turned her toes in the sand. Then, she nodded. "We will dig at the bottom. Take a moment to breathe."
Zayza studied Nahutala's feet.
Those 'Gods Below' guided her here? she wondered. Couldn't it just be from memory, though?
Despite her doubt, Zayza found herself slipping off her sandals. The pressure from their straps were immediately soothed within the shifting sand.
She closed her eyes.
There it was again: undeniably, she felt the faintest tremors in her soles.
She heard a brief laugh beside her.
"'Look. She doesn't have your sister's might, yet she has her heart.'"
Zayza opened her eyes to find Nahutala watching her, a smile on her face. This time, there was no trace of teasing in her eyes.
"That is what I told Chiwawo earlier, when you offered to help me," Nahutala said. "Well…that is the basic translation."
Zayza must have appeared quite frazzled from their trip, because Nahutala's ensuing laugh was finally one of pity. She could feel the hot red in her cheeks.
Nahutala looked out into the Mainland Desert. "Years ago, whenever one of my fellow gatherers couldn't work, Hirokyauta always found out, and always came to do it with me."
She shook her head fondly. "That girl could not stand performing women's roles…but she never complained to me," she remembered. "Honestly, I preferred those days. It was more work without the others, but time always seemed to go by faster because we would laugh all the way here, and all the way home."
Zayza's chest felt soft at the phantom sound of Hiroko's chalky laughter.
Nahutala stepped close to her, and brushed one side of Zayza's hair behind her ear. She touched her finger to the now-visible triangle tattoo on Zayza's cheek.
"Remember to wear that proudly, Cloudskin Princess," Nahutala encouraged. "Now, have you finally caught your breath? Let's climb."
She turned and began her careful descent without waiting for a reply.
While Zayza hadn't caught her breath in the slightest, she braced herself and followed. The hill's steepness nearly slid her downward before she caught her balance.
But before resuming, Zayza turned back to Chiwawo. She could only see his head now that he'd sat down to wait and guard.
"So then…what was it you said back to Nahutala earlier?" Zayza pressed.
He shrugged. "I just warned her you're proving to be just as stubborn as my sister, too."
She shot him a jeer. But her soft face betrayed her, as Chiwawo simply laughed like he'd just teased a puppy.
As Zayza descended, she found herself laughing a bit, as well.
So these were her people, before me and Kotono…she contemplated. And to nobody's surprise, Hiroko, you blessed their lives just as much as ours.
Already falling behind Nahutala again, she prepared her hands to dig. But she knew heat stones weren't all she was mining for.
Your memories…your fate…no matter how far I must travel, out here or in the Dream World, I will discover them, she vowed. And I'll bring them home to us.