Free The Glass Mountains by Cynthia Kadohata Page B

 
    “I go no further.”  
    “We can’t leave you here.”  
    “How many times does an old woman have to repeat herself?”  
    Actually, the idea of staying appealed to me. Where there was a lake there was bound to be plenty of roots, and where there were a lake and roots a person could live. My mother and father scarcely listened, instead bending over Katinka as she coughed on a sheet still smelling of smoke and death.  
    The elder’s daughter said, “We can’t all stay. The lake will run dry.”  
    “I don’t propose that we all stay. I stated only that I go no further.”  
    “You can see—how many people could this area support?”  
    “It supports what it supports. I ask no one to remain with me. I only say that this is as far as I go.”  
    “Mother, don’t make us carry you.”  
    “The sled doesn’t exist that can carry me where I refuse to go.”  
    My parents had begun to pile up things around Katinka. So far they’d piled around her a toy that hadn’t been destroyed, some bedding, a sheet, several bottles, and a piece of meat. I’d seen my parents do the same before, and other parents as well. It was a traditional ritual, an attempt to keep the child alive by surrounding it with chosen items. We all started to help, gathering up strong rocks, or leaves that still had life in them, and placing the items in a circle around my little sister. Every time she appeared to gain more light in her eyes, we redoubled our efforts, but after a while it was clear that she’d begun to slip away.  
    My mother turned to the elder. “What can I do?”  
    And the elder said, “Nothing. She’s dead.”  
    Indeed, Katinka’s lovely black eyes now stared into a world none of us could see. My father looked first at my dead darling sister and then at each of us children in turn. “Has anyone considered negotiating with the Formans?” he said sadly.  
    “The Formans don’t negotiate, they give you choices,” someone replied.  
    “Isn’t having choices better than having no choices? And if one of those choices means that no one else need die? I have a daughter dead.”  
    “I don’t mean to be unsympathetic, but many have lost children, and more than you have. How can you negotiate with murderers?”  
    My father said, “Like everyone here, I knew nothing about murderers before the current troubles, but now I think I do know something. I know that murder must be stopped. Someone must see what choices Forma offers us.”  
    Maruk stood up boldly to my father. “I take no choices from the Formans.”  
    “Same here,” said Sian.  
    “And here,” I surprised myself by saying. I’d never before defied my parents on an issue of such importance.  
    My father shook his head. “Even if the war ended tomorrow, I can see that you children are changed forever, just as Katinka is.”  
    We took Katinka into the forest and dug a grave, lining it with pebbles. We then laid down a blanket before placing my sister in to sleep. My mother shut one of her eyes, my father the other, and everyone in camp sprinkled a handful of sand over her, again and again until together we filled in the hole. My parents sprinkled the first two handfuls and the last. In that way, they buried a child for the ninth time in their lives.  
    Back at camp, Maruk laid out his map and studied it while most of the rest of us ate. My parents conferred to the side, nibbling occasionally on pieces of meat as they talked. I saw how after more than a hundred years together they were two heads, two hearts, two bodies, and one soul. When one died, the other would.  
    My father walked over to where Maruk studied his map. “Maruk, you’ve recently come of age, and these are extraordinary circumstances, so I must allow you to make your own decisions. But your mother and I have decided to return to see whether we can negotiate, and we would hope that you would take care of your brothers and sisters at least until you reach the