Mother/son spoke in Zuni, and Calliope understood from their glances toward Eunjoo they were discussing the girl. Finally, Malia nodded and invited them inside. The walls were whitewashed, the tall ceilings supported with hand-hewn beams. Chance carried Mara off to another part of the house, while Malia offered them a wooden bench at the large table where she’d been cooking. She brought them clay cups of water.

After gulping the water down completely and asking for a second cup, Calliope asked, “Do you know why or how this is happening? Did you see the flash here in Zuni?”

Whether Malia would have answered, Calliope couldn’t know, for Chance had returned, his arms empty, and interjected, “Tsitda, the babies are coming. Old Lady Salt gave us her blessing, and Calliope is well now, but you should have seen before, at Ma:k’yayanne. She was bleeding in a bad way. I was terrified and asked Salt Lady for help. I knew it would be well once I brought hom:il’ona to you.”

Malia nodded, but her expression darkened, worry lines creasing her forehead. “I’ll get our Suski:kwe, the women are upstairs. We’ll do this for you and your bride, and your babies. But tell me, Aktsek’i: have you encountered ko’ko on your journey here? Was anything bad for you coming home?”

He sighed deeply, ran his hands through his silky black hair. The muscles in his jaw clenched. He looked at his mother, his eyes darker and more troubled than hers. “You know, Tsitda. Don’t you?”

She wrung her hands on a cloth, wiping the cornmeal from her fingers. “I hoped it wasn’t so.”

“Will the Elders speak with me?”

“You must, yes. But not yet.”

He nodded, and she pulled her son toward her, held him against her, kissed his cheek. When she stepped back, she had tears in her eyes, but said briskly, “Come. There’s much to be done. Hotda/Granddaughter, come with me.”

Eunjoo followed Malia up the ladder, but turned back, whispering, “Don’t leave me, Phoenix’s mama.”

Calliope smiled. “Never, chica.”

Once they were alone, Calliope turned toward Chance. “Well?”

“Lo siento, mujer. I had to say something. I thought of the risk. It wasn’t worth it. If my clan couldn’t or wouldn’t help you—what then? I had to tell her you were family.”

“What did you call me, when you introduced me? Your hom:il’ona.” The word felt spongy as cornmeal in her mouth.

His face and ears reddened, and he looked at the ground. “It means the one who has me.”

She stared at him trying to decipher her reaction. It was part of his plan, to make sure she was cared for. Right? She felt the familiar pang in her pelvis and back, pain radiating down her thighs. She bent forward, breathing rapidly.

“We came just in time. You’ll be safe now.”