Fated

wave of her hand.
    “What about my cast?” It’s a last-ditch effort, about as obvious as it gets, but still worth a shot.
    Paloma smiles. “You are already healed, nieta, as I’m sure you have guessed. You are no longer in need of it, and I have no doubt you will return without it. Its materials are nonpolluting and biodegradable. The cast will take care of itself.”
    Chay approaches, announcing the horses are saddled and ready, but I’m not. I have so many questions I’m not sure where to start. Though I don’t get the chance to say much of anything before Paloma’s hugging me tight, whispering, “Good-bye and good luck.”
    And the next thing I know, Chay’s lifting me onto Kachina’s back and we’re heading into the dark.

eighteen
    We ride through the night. Our horses picking their way across a difficult trail, guided by the moon, the stars, and not much more.
    Our conversation kept to a minimum, with mostly Chay asking: “You okay? Need anything?”
    And on the two occasions when I dozed off and almost fell from my saddle: “Careful now!”
    Until finally, when the dawn begins to break and the sun begins its slow ascent over the ridge, he looks at me and says, “We’re here.”
    I gaze all around, my eyes so tired and bleary I’m unable to see what makes this particular place any different from all the other places we passed earlier. It’s got dirt, weeds, rugged cliffs, and barren trees. There’s nothing of note, nothing special about it—just more of the same.
    “What do you say we leave the horses here and get you settled?”
    I screw my mouth to the side and hold tight to my mount.
    “Daire, it’s time,” he says, voice as gentle as the fingers that pry Kachina’s reins from my hand.
    “I don’t want to go.” I chew my bottom lip, embarrassed by the words, by the way my voice broke, but still I continue. “I’m tired and hungry and … I don’t like it here. I don’t feel safe.” My gaze pleads with his, but he stands firm and offers a hand.
    “C’mon.” He coaxes me to my feet, motions for me to walk alongside him. “It’s better to hurry. The sooner we get you started, the sooner we can get you back home.”
    He keeps his tone light, almost playful, but it doesn’t quite work. Chay’s a good and trustworthy man—a man of good character and noble intentions. This alone makes him a terrible liar.
    When the trail narrows, he veers to the front, leading me up a long, winding path that leaves us both winded. Stopping before a large dark opening that appears to be the mouth of a cave, he says, “Many of your ancestors have endured their vision quest here, including Paloma back when she was your age.” He turns to me. “As you know, Django never made it this far, which means it hasn’t been used for many, many years.”
    “How can you be sure?” I glance between him and the cave. “Paloma’s vision quest must’ve been what—almost forty years ago? So how can you be so sure no one’s used it since then?”
    Chay nods toward the ground, the toe of his boot nudging at some grainy white substance that forms a thick border along the entrance, reminding me of the white line that lies inside the adobe wall and coyote fence that surrounds Paloma’s house. “I said it hasn’t been used in many years. I didn’t say it hasn’t been tended to. The salt works to protect it—keeps the energy pure and the predators at bay.”
    Predators .
    Now there’s a word I wish I hadn’t heard.
    I peer into the mouth, not liking what I see. Not that I can see much of anything, but still, just knowing it’s deep, dark, and cavernous is enough to give me the creeps.
    “I’m not going in there,” I say. Even though we both know I will. But I’m not ready yet. I need a little more convincing, a little more time to gather my courage.
    Chay nods, waiting patiently as I peer in again. But it’s the same as before—all I can see is a solid wall of black. “What’s in there?” I ask, figuring he must’ve checked it out once or twice.
    “Beats me.” He shrugs. “Only the vision quester is allowed entrance. It’s a sacred space. I just swing by on occasion to maintain the border for Paloma, no more.”
    I frown. That hardly makes me feel better. “How long have you two been dating?” I ask, aware that I’m just stalling, though I am a little curious.
    Chay laughs, rubs a hand across his brow. “Is it still dating at our age?” He laughs again, shaking his head as he