Free Captive Spirit by Liz Fichera Page B

could touch the shells.
    Barely breathing, I released three shells from the string. When I was certain that Diego wasn’t looking, I let the shells fall from my fingers. So light, they floated to the ground like dried palo verde leaves.
    I watched until the shells landed safely on the ground, white and unbroken. They lay in bright contrast against the dark brown dirt. Someone would have to be blind not to see them. Gaho’s white necklace shells were one way for someone to find me and I was certain that someone would.
    They had to.
    I refused to believe otherwise.
    Swallowing, I drew in the tiniest of inhales before I tied the necklace back around my neck. Only seven shells remained. I would have to be careful where I dropped them, and I’d already decided that I would save the shiny blue stone for last. I pressed it against my chest and rolled it between my fingers as I prayed to Hunab Ku for strength.
    The blue stone would need to bring me luck. I needed it.
    Besides, I hoped that I wouldn’t need the blue stone. It was all that I had left of home.
    ***
    We rode until my legs turned numb.
    I dropped two more shells from my necklace as I sat behind Diego when I was certain he wasn’t looking. I had only five left.
    The World Beyond stretched forever. Reaching an edge, a precipice like I once imagined, now seemed impossible. Instead, one world seamlessly joined with another. Then another.
    Before us, mountains of every shape loomed higher and darker, much bigger than the jagged ones that surrounded my village. They were covered with odd-shaped trees that looked like arrowheads; in some places the branches were so thick that we couldn’t ride below them.
    As we began an even steeper climb, I had to grip Diego’s belt with both hands. If he minded, he didn’t say.
    A ridge of green arrowhead-shaped trees swept so long and wide in front of us that it looked like it was painted into the sky. I wondered if we’d ever climb to the top and reach the other side. And the deeper we rode into the trees, the more I feared I’d never see my family again. It felt as if the mountain was swallowing us whole.
    When Diego helped me climb off the horse, I dropped numbly into his arms from fatigue and hunger. My legs tingled all the way down to the tips of my toes; I could barely walk. Thankfully, Diego untied my hands and then left me to help the others unload the deerskin sacks.
    I rubbed the muscles in my feet and calves, waiting for some instruction. Lobo stayed by my side. It was good to have him close, especially with the strange way the men looked at me.
    Lobo licked my hands with his warm pink tongue until I finally stroked the soft spot between his ears.
    “I missed you, too,” I whispered close to his ear and his tail wagged so fast I wondered if it would fly off.
    Then the man with the scar dumped one of the sacks at my feet, startling me. It landed with a loud thump , and I jumped out of the way just before it landed on my toes.
    “Cook,” he said as he towered over me. “You cook. We’re hungry.” It was not a request.
    Cook? But, cook what?
    Lobo began to inspect the sack but the man kicked him in the rump with his pointy black shoe causing him to yelp before he darted wildly into the darkening sky.
    “Cook!” he said again and I immediately began to fumble with the sack fearing the back of his hand.
    Diego frowned at the man with the scar as he stood next to the horses. “Don’t mind Alfonso,” he called out to me. “He just gets grumpy when he’s hungry.” There was a smile in his voice and I gathered that Alfonso’s behavior was not unusual.
    I nodded at Diego but did not return his smile.
    Alfonso , I thought to myself. So that’s what they call the man with the scar across his mouth. Thin and white, the scar crossed over his lower lip like a lightning streak.
    I opened the sack, not knowing what to look for, not knowing what I’d find. Fortunately, I found more dried meat, two pouches filled with