Last week, guarding Awa’s and Djola’s breath bodies at the elder tree, Fannie heard cries for help from Jumbajabbaland. She stepped sideways, skirting smoky borderlands. Whenever she’d done this before, fruit trees and sweetgrass meadows greeted her; travelers danced in cathedral branches; water creatures sang from the sea. This trip, Fannie smelled hungry spirit slaves. She spied elder trees ripping roots and running from poison sandstorms, but saw nowhere to roam free. The void swirled around her hooves and up her legs, dulling her thoughts, drinking her will. A fiend sprang at her from rotten bushes. Reacting as in battle, Fannie sidestepped back to the everyday. She shook off the itchy smoke clinging to her mane. Any fate in the everyday was better than becoming an empty-eyed fiend or adding heart spirit to the void.

Soot scurries between Fannie’s feet and growls the memories away.

“Somebody behind us?” The shadow warrior twists around and puts an arrow to the bow, yet the warrior’s heart does not race when they cross a rickety bridge made of woven sweetgrass. The bridge sways under their feet. Fannie hates this. Thunder River crashes far below them in a rocky ravine. Fannie wants to turn back and go anywhere else. The shadow warrior sings and caresses her sides. Fannie sways with the elephant, sick in her stomach. Then hooves touch solid ground again. Relief. She nickers.

The elephant turns and tickles Fannie with the fingers in her trunk, a friendly gesture. The shadow warrior pulls a thread and the rope bridge unravels. It whistles in the wind and smacks against rocks before splashing into water. Fannie is glad they won’t return this way. Crows holler and swoop. The hairy cowards tracking them must find another crossing. Fannie snorts relief. Darkness will end soon. Sunlight is always a balm.

Djola grumbles, twitches, and moans. Awa jerks awake and sits up.

Kyrie curses. “Veson-sacrifices to the mountain god.”

Two bodies hang in a tree, flayed flesh, burnt faces, upwind. Fannie shies away too late to avoid them. The elephant wails, vibrating the ground under their feet. The herd halts, quiet, agitated. This is not the work of hungry predators, but warriors or angry people who leave flesh to rot. Fannie is impatient as Kyrie and Bal cut the bodies down and scatter flesh and bones in the brush. When done, Bal trembles and moans, batting Kyrie away. Awa slides down to hug and kiss Bal, and they sway with the breeze. Awa knows how to stroke terror away. She sings a Green Elder song and soothes everyone. Fannie nudges Awa, not wanting to remain. The elephant wraps her trunk around Kyrie’s arm before she climbs back up. Fannie wants to gallop away from death and sadness. Even the elephant manages to go a bit faster.