Calliope’s chest prickled. Despite herself, she walked closer to Chance, periodically glancing into the Gilas and the scrub-covered hills that were now surrounding them, searching for coyotes or Suuke or worse. She said, “Those ko’ko, then. Even if I accept that they’re no longer palm-sized dolls made of cottonwood and feathers, why were they after us? Aren’t they gods? What would your gods have against us?”

“Back when the world was soft, the people climbed out of the underworld and crossed the rivers, joining the sacred lake Kothluwala’wa. But before we crossed the lake, mothers were warned their children would change, so hang on tightly no matter what. When we got to the middle and the children transformed into frogs, tortoises, snakes, dragonflies, they pinched and bit at the mothers, who, understandably, were terrified, and, despite the warning, let go. The children were lost to us. When we finally crossed to the other side, those children whose mothers held onto them became normal again, and the mothers who had lost their children in the water wept, but were told their children hadn’t died. They’d become the ko’ko and danced underwater. It’s like a dancehall down there. And when we die, we’ll join them, as ko’ko. The twin gods told the mothers to take heart. When their time on Mother Earth was over, they would rejoin their children in Kothluwala’wa. There is no punishment after death like the Anglos believe. Only continued survival.”

“Then where did the Suuke come from? If there’s no punishment?”

“No punishment after death.”

He stopped walking, pulled Eunjoo from his shoulders, held her against his chest. Calliope turned and faced them, her stomach tightening from his abrupt halting, as when he’d crouched in the dirt outside the hangar and predicted the coming of the Suuke. Her throat tight, she asked, “What is it? Something coming?”

“I don’t think so. Just, most ko’ko help the Zuni. Occasionally the Spirits come to us as clouds. That’s why we dance, to ask for their intercession.” He breathed out deeply. “But some ko’ko are like bogeymen. Well, bogeypeople really. Male and female, husband and wife.”

“Where do they come from? I thought ko’ko came from the lost children?”

“No, the children joined the ko’ko. The ko’ko have always been. And I can’t tell you how or why some are bogeys. Doesn’t every culture have its own version of a disciplinarian? For Zuni, it’s the Suuke couple, as ko’ko. Behave, or the Suuke will steal you away in their basket.” He sighed. “My wife used to say that to our daughter.”

Something sharp jabbed her. He was married? Why hadn’t he said anything before? Why did that realization make Calliope feel sick? The ring on his right hand. Wrong hand.

“Used to?”