Heror slept in the next morning. A new light blue tunic was waiting for him – folded on the ground – and so he slipped it on over his bandage. He went to the mess tent and ate a small breakfast, then went to the river. It was quiet. The sky was a silver and gray overcast. A calm wind blew. Every now and then, he felt a misting of light rain against his skin.

On the way to the river, Heror stopped by the horses. Shaadur greeted him with a neigh of recognition; Heror smiled lightly and patted Shaadur on his side. As he glanced left, Heror noticed that Adjaash’s horse Ashanji was gone. His small smile remained, and he leaned over and looped the rope off of Shaadur’s collar. Then he took hold of Shaadur’s reins and walked him the rest of the way to the riverbank.

Heror walked slowly, still feeling soreness in his joints. When he arrived at the riverbank with Shaadur, Adjaash was waiting for him, sitting on a stump by the firepit. Not far from where she sat, Ashanji rested by the water, standing idle.

Adjaash glanced over her shoulder and saw Heror approach. She smiled and jumped to her feet, poncho and hair rustling in a light breeze. As Heror reached her, she walked up alongside him and gave him a light nudge.

“That’s two times now that you’ve fallen off a horse, by the way,” she informed.

“What, you’re counting?” Heror sighed.

“Well, I have to if you’re going to keep doing it,” Adjaash quipped with a smirk.

They turned to the south as they walked alongside the edge of the river. Adjaash let out a short whistle, and Ashanji eagerly rode up behind them. Together, they all carried on toward the forest.

“If you ever fall off your horse, I’m going to make sure you never hear the end of it,” Heror told Adjaash.

“That’s the difference between you and me. You won’t catch me slipping.”

They walked back down the river path, until they passed the westward bend. Then they carried on, into the emerald cover of the woods. They went until they reached a point in the river where the banks widened. Farther down the way, Heror could hear the light hum of rapids. But where they stopped, the water was slower, as it pooled in a rocky brook.

Now Adjaash turned and walked across the river, carefully stepping across on smooth, water-polished stones, while Ashanji trotted alongside her at ankle depth. Heror followed, holding Shaadur’s reins as they walked.

“Careful where you step,” Adjaash teased. “Wouldn’t want you to fall again.”

“Yes you would,” Heror grumbled. “Don’t lie.”

They reached the other side of the river, and Adjaash let go of Ashanji’s reins, letting her roam into the woods. Heror did the same for Shaadur, and he watched as the smoky black horse rode out into the greens, then slowed to a trot and started sniffing and exploring in the forest dirt.

While the horses went off on their own, Adjaash walked a little ways down the eastern bank of the river, until the water deepened again. Then she approached a tree at the edge of the bank. At the base of the tree trunk, a wooden bucket sat where Adjaash had left it, as did two crude fishing rods made from hazel shoots. Each rod was fitted at the end with a knot and lure made of silk, with bone-carved hooks attached at each end, looped safely over a nob farther down the rod. Adjaash checked each lure, brushing plant litter and slimy algae off the silk strands with her fingers.

“This is the best time to fish,” Adjaash said, glancing up at the overcast sky as light drizzle fell. “They like to feed before more rain comes in.”

Once the lures were clean, Adjaash picked up one of the rods and held it out for Heror to take. Heror grabbed the rod, and then Adjaash went back to grab her own. Now she dropped her eyes and scavenged the bank. After a moment, she knelt down and pinched at something with her fingers, inbetween stones and pebbles. When she lifted her hand up, a fat worm was trapped between her fingertips.

“Yes, this is a good one,” she said with a little too much excitement.

She pinched the worm a bit harder, and Heror grimaced as he heard a squelch. Adjaash saw his reaction and grinned.

“What?” she chimed. “Please don’t tell me that Heror – hardened Midan warrior of the steppes, slayer of sand demons – doesn’t like worms.”

“No, no, it’s just…” Heror fumbled. “The noise was… disconcerting.”

“Oh, well,” Adjaash sighed. “I guess I’ll just catch more fish than you.”

She started to turn back toward the river when she saw Heror kneel down and search the bank. Seconds later, he stood back up with a worm in hand. He shot her a look of challenge, then bent the worm, pinched his lure against the pole, and fastened the bait on his hook.

“Alright, I’m impressed,” Adjaash admitted. “You didn’t even flinch.”

“Well, I can’t let your head get any bigger than it is.”

They set up beside the river. Adjaash pulled up her fishing bucket and set it upside down, then sat on it. Next to her, Heror sat with his legs crossed on the ground, pole in his lap, and they began to fish. Their first few casts all came back empty. For a little while, it was quiet, as the river bubbled, and the wind and the light rain drifted overhead.

“Did you know any of them well?” Heror asked after a time. “The Midans?”

Adjaash glanced at Heror, then cast again – pinching the line on her backswing, then releasing it in front.

“Nariyu, I knew,” she said, her voice lower now. “He was one of the elders of the camp. The other two, not as much. They were newer. Brought onto the party for support, mostly. Raldu only spared the soldiers he could with the activity at the border.”

She paused for a moment, then let out a quick sigh.

“He died the way he wanted to,” she said of Nariyu. “He was a fighter. The djauuls of the steppes dream of honorable deaths in combat, of sacrifice to their people. He achieved that. And we wouldn’t have made it without him, so… it wasn’t for nothing.”

The girl pulled her lure back in from the river. Once she lifted it from the water, she checked her worm to see if it was still secure.

“He would’ve been happy to know that we brought Kauta back,” Adjaash went on. “He loved his horse.”

Another silence fell in. The tree leaves whirred above. A gust of wind blew, and a light mist cooled Heror’s face. He dropped his eyes and fiddled with the lure between his fingers.

“Where do you think he went?” Heror wondered.

“What do you mean?”

She glanced at Heror, and his pondering gaze told her all she needed to know.

“Oh, you mean after life,” she realized.

She paused again, then pinched the line and cast it out into the river. The lure landed in the middle of the light rapids, and slowly drifted north along the current.

“I don’t know,” was all she could muster at first.

“What do you believe?” Heror asked.

“Well… there’s a difference between what I believe… and what I’m supposed to believe,” Adjaash replied. “In Torwan culture, life and death is all very simple, and the physical and spiritual worlds are not all too far apart. They coexist in a balance. We were taught to respect land and life while we live, because the spirit Shenu lives in everything. And then, when we die, our bodies are buried and given back to the land. We become one with the land again – giving back to the land that gave to us, to give new life from past life. If we live well, our soul can be at peace.”

Heror sensed quiet apprehension in her voice – as if distancing herself from the words she was saying.

“What do you believe now?” he questioned.

“It’s not that I don’t believe in that,” Adjaash reasoned. “It’s just…”

She stopped herself. She blinked through strands of hair. Her shark tooth necklace swayed ever so slightly around her neck.

“Nevermind,” she said abruptly.

“What?”

“Nevermind, it’s nothing.”

It was silent for a moment.

“Adjaash, you know… you can talk to me.”

Adjaash swallowed a lump in her throat. She blinked again, and her eyes fluttered – and then she turned toward Heror and offered him a small smile.

“I know I can. I just… don’t want to talk about it right now. It’s fine.”

Heror nodded, then let his eyes fall to the ground.

“I’m sorry for bringing it up.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Adjaash assured him, trying to lighten her tone.

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She took a deep breath. Heror sat up straight and stretched his legs. Up above, a kingfisher darted across the stream, letting out a loud call.

“I think Nariyu went to a good place,” Adjaash said finally, trying to comfort Heror. But Heror’s mind went to the place of shadow he’d seen in his vision. His mind went to Nihlukei.

It was quiet for some time. The overcast above slowly started to fade, and the midday sun peeked through gaps in the cloud cover, casting a shine on the mist and the river ripples. Adjaash sent out her lure several more times, until at last, she got a bite.

“Ah! I got one!” she exclaimed, jumping to her feet in a rush.

She tugged on the rod, then guided the string back with her free hand. Soon enough, a smallmouth bass was revealed at the end of her lure. She set it down, and it lay on its side on the riverbank, its mouth croning open and closed.

“I got the first one!” Adjaash announced, tugging the fish off the ground. “As if there was ever any doubt.”

“I’ve casted two times,” Heror protested.

“Well, that’s your fault,” Adjaash said with a shrug, lifting the fish to free it.

Heror sighed and smiled, then rose to his feet and took a step closer to the river’s edge. While Adjaash unhooked her fish and tossed it back out into the water, Heror swung his rod behind him, then cast out the lure again, letting it plop gently in the middle of the stream. Another kingfisher flew past, and swerved just over the ripples made by the lure.

“I think the bird was trying to see if I had a fish,” Heror observed.

“It should know better than to think you’d have a fish on your line,” Adjaash muttered slyly.

Heror blinked, rolled his tongue, and shot her a glance. Then he smiled and brought his line in again. When there was nothing on the hook, he cast out again, letting the lure fly a bit farther this time.

“So you’ve at least done this before,” Adjaash teased.

“A little bit,” Heror said with a nod. “When I was younger.”

Heror blinked, as his thoughts started to run again. He tried to force a laugh.

“I was never very good at it, though,” he remembered. “I was never patient enough. I’d cast the lure and let it sit for a couple seconds, and then I’d pull it back. Never felt a tug or anything. Nothing to tell me I actually had something. But I just wanted to see it for myself.”

The clouds above started to part, giving way to creases of blue sky. Heror thought back, and he smiled a bit wider.

“Ucankacei would always try to tell me the right way to do it, but I never listened. He kept telling me to keep it in the water a bit longer – ‘give the fish time to come’, ‘they always bite on the pauses’ – but I always got too impatient. Too excited. I’d pull it back and cast it out again and again, until my arm was tired. He’d say: ‘Heror, you’re making me look good at this.’ He’d say it just like that…”

He trailed off.

“Who’s Ucankacei?” Adjaash asked with a curious smile.

Heror went silent for a moment. The overcast started to roll in again, and they fell under the shade of the cloud cover. Another gust blew, and with it came another light misting. Heror opened his mouth, conflicted over whether or not he should speak – when he felt something tug the line.

“Oh–”

With haste, Heror jerked the pole and tried to set the line, and he felt the tension and struggle of a hooked fish. Suddenly invigorated, he pinched the line against the pole – bundle by bundle – until another smallmouth bass appeared by the shore, flipping around in the muck.

“All tied up,” Heror said as he shot a smirk in Adjaash’s direction.

“You weren’t even paying attention,” Adjaash rolled her eyes. “That shouldn’t count.”

Heror smiled and rested the pole against his ankle while he held the line taut between his hands. He brought the dangling fish to face level, then carefully unhooked it. Once it was free, Heror knelt down by the riverside and gently dropped the fish back into the stream, letting it pick up its place in the current once again.

They kept casting. The clouds parted at last, as the overcast drifted to the east and gave way to a bright blue canvas. The midday sun loomed high in the sky, bathing the green trees and the sparkling waters in light and warmth.

At long last, Heror felt what seemed to be another bite, just as Adjaash cast out herself. He let out a triumphant shout, then turned to Adjaash.

“Guess who’s about to break the tie,” he bragged.

But then Adjaash felt a tug on her line, too – just as it entered the water. She jumped, then looked on, and saw that their two fishing lines were following the same path. This fish was heavy, and it wasn’t jerking the line. It followed the current, and after a small spell of failed struggle, Heror turned to Adjaash again.

“Are we hooked on the same one?” he asked in disbelief.

At that moment, they both came to the same realization, and they clamored down the riverbank, shouting – “it’s mine!” – as they jockeyed to get ahead of one another. They scrambled until they each felt the line tug, and as Heror looked on, he saw that the line was stuck in the stepping rocks that dotted the width of the river. Whatever was hooked, it was submerged under the light rapids.

Now Heror darted onto the stepping stones. Adjaash gave the impression that she was following, but then hung back on the riverbank and stifled a laugh. Briskly, with light feet, Heror made his way to the center of the river, where his line was stuck. And as he tugged at the end of his line, he lifted a small log of driftwood from the water – with both his and Adjaash’s hooks embedded in it.

As soon as he knelt down on the stones and lifted the driftwood, he heard Adjaash start dying of laughter back on the riverbank behind him, a light inflection in her voice.

“That’s a… a massive fish you have there, Heror!” she exclaimed inbetween laughs.

Heror gaped at the driftwood hovering on his lure, while Adjaash tried to contain herself. Then Heror sighed and dropped the wood back into the water-polished rocks.

“You were so excited!” Adjaash cried, then mocked: “‘Guess who’s about to break the tie.’”

“Did you know it was a log the whole time??” Heror gasped.

“Yes, you can tell!” Adjaash said, starting to laugh again as she rested her pole at her side.

She lost herself in laughter another time, and Heror smiled to himself before unhooking his lure and rising to his feet. He started to step back over the stones, when Adjaash spoke, still trying to compose herself.

“Wait… wait…” she said, a coy grin still on her face. “I’m sorry for laughing at you, but… can you unhook mine, too?”

“Oh, so now you need my help,” Heror mused.

“It’s just… you’re already out there,” Adjaash went on. “Please? I’ll accept the tie as our official result. You can have half of the bragging rights.”

Heror eyed her with a smirk, then knelt down again. He set down his fishing rod, then brought his hands back to the driftwood, until his fingers traced to Adjaash’s lure. He glanced over at Adjaash – who, for the moment, was not paying attention. And then he slid both of his hands farther up the line and tugged it his way.

The tug threw Adjaash off-balance, and she let go of the rod – but by then, she had already stumbled forward into the shallows of the river, splashing water with her moccasins as she regained her balance. Now Heror let out an impulsive laugh through his nose, and Adjaash scoffed, shaking her head.

“You did not just do that…” she said with a mischevious smile.

Adjaash grabbed her fishing rod, which floated in the shallow ripples, then stepped back out onto the riverbank and shook out water from her moccasins. While she did this, Heror unhooked her lure from the driftwood in the rocks, then rose to his feet. And for a moment, his eyes met Adjaash’s. Adjaash stepped toward the stones, starting to block off Heror’s path back onshore.

“Before you think of retaliating… remember…” Heror reminded her with a smirk. “… I have your lure.”

“I’m not thinking of retaliating,” Adjaash assured him, her lies not convincing.

“I’m just saying…” Heror observed with a tilt of his head. “You’re looking a little menacing, standing by the edge of the rocks.”

“I’m not thinking of retaliating,” Adjaash repeated, smiling a bit wider.

“Just… if you ever want to see your lure again,” Heror decried, waving the hook in his hand, “you’ll allow me free passage.”

“Yes, you have free passage,” Adjaash confirmed, taking another surreptitious step toward the stones. “You have my word.”

“I have your word?”

“Yes.”

Heror eyed Adjaash for a moment longer, then carefully took a step from stone to stone – rod in one hand, and Adjaash’s lure in the other. Then he took another step, and another, until he was close to the riverbank. He dropped Adjaash’s lure in the water. The girl reeled it in with her fingers, but did not step back from the stones. Then Heror stepped onto the bank, right in front of her.

For a moment, they stood looking at each other, just inches apart. And then Adjaash grinned.

“I lied.”

She shoved Heror, and Heror stumbled backward. He dropped his rod and fell onto his back in the shallow river. Suddenly soaked, he rushed to his feet and splashed a wave at Adjaash, who also dropped her rod, and went into the river to join the fight. They circled each other – splashing and kicking and laughing and stirring the waves – squinting and turning their faces as pellets of water pelted them back and forth. They did this until Heror stopped to catch his breath – clothes and hair heavy with water – and Adjaash couldn’t contain herself any longer, erupting in a fit of light belly laughter that echoed through the trees.

In a futile gesture, Heror wiped water from an already-soaked face with an already-soaked tunic sleeve. And when he blinked and opened his eyes again, he saw Adjaash – still spinning in her drenched poncho. She had kicked off her moccasins, to let her feet feel the silt. Her brown-silver hair, which had once been neatly organized in a braid, was now clumped and soaked, but still it gleamed iridescent in the bright golden sunlight, against the backdrop of rich green forest. She reached up to unbind what was left of her braid, and her loose hair flowed down over her shoulders and face – a beautiful face, with a smile of joy.

At the sight, Heror stopped and froze and stared for a moment, and his skin flushed. As she gathered her hair and pulled it up – reaching over her head to wring out the water – Adjaash looked at Heror and eyed him with a questioning smirk.

“What?”

Heror broke out of his trance and dropped his eyes.

“U-um… nothing…”

Adjaash smiled and then dropped her eyes as well, as she spun her hair into a braid over her right shoulder.

They went back onto the riverbank to dry off. The sun was out, and the fish wouldn’t be biting anymore. Adjaash grabbed the two fishing poles and leaned them against the same tree where she’d found them, along with the bucket.

Once all of their supplies were secure, Adjaash let out a familiar short whistle. Just seconds later, they heard the sound of hoovesteps in the distance. Through the trees, the jet black horse Ashanji ran to meet up with Adjaash, and Shaadur followed a ways behind. Ashanji made it to the bank, greeting Adjaash with a nuzzle – but Shaadur stopped around twenty feet inside the forest, his focus disrupted by something on the ground.

“Shaadur!” Heror called. “Shaadur, we’re heading in!”

The smoky black horse’s ears perked up, and for a moment, he glanced in Heror’s direction – but then his muzzle went back to the ground, where a snake or a toad or a salamander seemed to be scurrying.

“He has to know his name by now,” Adjaash commented.

“He does,” Heror sighed. “He’s just a free spirit.”

After a few more minutes and a few more calls, Shaadur finally joined the group by the riverbank, and Heror took his reins. And together, the four ventured back to camp, under the warm light of day.