By Joseph Emmrich
© 2023 Joseph Emmrich
All rights reserved
Chapter 15
The breathing was telling the tale. Yattani huddled in a
corner of his house watching his father’s chest heave up
and down. There was no rhythm to it. A gurgling sound from
the depths of his lungs added discordant notes to the dirge.
Yattani realized his grinding breath would drone on, until it
faded into a cold silent end.
He cupped his hands around his face. He knew he should be
there with his father, but he could barely stand the sight.
Holding his ears didn’t seem to dampen the sound. It lived
inside his head now.
Anjabu had come and gone, leaving Father with a soft lick
on the cheek, before making sure he could scamper unseen back
to the forest. Masadun had spent time, chanting and praying,
leaving a bowl of smoldering dried herbs that filled the room
with a distracting sweet aroma that at least loosened the knot in
Yattani’s stomach. The shaman had advised him not to
sequester himself in the house but to go out, breathe deeply, and
feel the sun.
He realized he needed to follow that advice.
Trudging up the hill through the village, Yattani stared at
the dirt, oblivious to greetings or insults. If the sun was bright
and the air unusually crisp, he didn’t notice. Scuffing the ground
as he moved, his mind wandered from thoughts of good days
with his father, fishing or catching tik-tiks, to darker things, like
the Mawatunda he would soon have to lead at the Cave of the
Dead. Whether it was these thoughts that informed his
direction, he couldn’t say. He moved without conscious
intention.
He found himself on the trail to the Cave of the Dead. It
wasn’t a place he’d ever gone except for ceremonies. It was
forbidden to enter the cave except with the shaman or the chief.
The trail became steeper and rockier the farther he got from the
village, requiring him to begin to focus his attention on what
was underfoot. As he arrived at the gaping cave entrance, its
warm breath offered a slight resistance to his forward progress.
The warmth seemed odd to him; he hadn’t remembered it so.
Standing still as a stone, he closed his eyes and breathed
with an exaggerated exhale that let his mind sink to the cave of
his imagination. He began to picture himself leading the
procession of villagers. But before he lost himself in this image,
he heard something.
Something was coming up the trail. He shuddered without
knowing why. Squinting his eyes tight and cocking an ear, he
strained for a conclusion. After interpreting the sounds: the
crunch of the ground, the pace of the step, the rustle of foliage,
he surmised a large human was approaching. He felt he
shouldn’t be discovered here even though he hadn’t entered the
cave.
Moving like a cat, silently, with deft footwork, he hid behind
a large rock downwind of the entrance. No sooner had he
concealed himself, when the dark imposing figure of Chief
Tantabu emerged from the forest.
The chief stopped short of the cave. He looked around,
noticing every tiny movement in the forest, just as Yattani
would do to interpret the signs, to see if human or animal lurked
nearby. He scanned with intense fierce eyes; he listened; he
smelled. Twisting his neck abruptly, he looked, then strode to
the right of the cave, stopped, and rechecked the signs.
I hope he’s satisfied, Yattani thought. I hope he doesn’t
come this way.
But Tantabu hadn’t become chief or maintained power
without being observant and careful. When he’d satisfied
himself on the right, he began walking to the opposite side
where Yattani was now crouched in the dirt, behind and under
the boulder he prayed would conceal him.
As Tantabu kept walking, Yattani’s heart began pounding
hard enough that he thought it would expose him. He could
hear it. Surely, Tantabu would. Why did he keep walking? Did
he smell him? Great Vatu, he prayed.
When the chief stopped, Yattani, now prostrate, could see
his feet: dirty, scarred, long toes just beginning to twist with age.
He was pausing to observe again while Yattani tried to breathe
silently and calm his racing heart.
Tantabu took another step in Yattani’s direction. He froze
and half gasped. I’m dead, he thought. I will precede my father
to the Spirit World.
But there was no following step. The chief turned, went
back the way he came, and entered the Cave of the Dead.
Yattani went limp in relief but didn’t move a muscle otherwise.
He sat in silence debating with himself: Do I run away now or
wait until Tantabu leaves?
As he was about to answer that question with the former
option, he heard something else. Another human was coming
up the trail. He remained hidden but put himself in position to
see who it was. When the last bushes parted to reveal the new
visitor, Yattani was stunned, so stunned he almost called out.
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