The Wings of Dreams

emotions like that is stupid. So I’m going back and admitting I was in the wrong and apologizing—that is, if the youma doesn’t follow me.”
    “Shushou!”
    “I got my dander up without understanding the first thing about what it takes to be a koushu. I ignored their warnings and stepped into this danger all on my own. Running away and leaving behind those on foot is one thing. But to expose the koushu to the same danger? I won’t do it. Do you have in you to part with a portion of your supplies? Only as much as I can carry. Either way, I won’t hold it again you.”
    “What reason have I to part with any supplies? This talk of going back—”
    “Fine. I understand.” Shushou turned on her heels. Traveling light could prove the better strategy anyway.
    “Shushou, wait.”
    “If you don’t have the courage to go back for your own, well, you’re free to do as you see fit. I can’t tell you what to do. Better to go on alone, I suppose, than in the company of a coward who can’t pay the bill for his own foolishness. But don’t expect me to play along any longer.”
    “Shushou!”
    Shushou said with a final wave, “Thanks for everything, Shitsu-san. Take care of yourself.”

Chapter 28
    [4-5]  T he cloud of dust hanging over the land stained the air yellow.
    The man gasped. As he raced down the road, all he could see ahead of him was a tawny haze. His master’s wagon should be somewhere just beyond the haze but he couldn’t catch even a single glimpse.
    He climbed every rise in the road praying that at the top the vistas would clear. Or at least that he would find more of their number there taking a break. Or if his luck really held, searchers coming back looking for them.
    He prayed in vain.
    Wondering if it was about time to give up hope, and yet holding his head high, he came to the crest of another hill, saw only the dust his master had left in his wake, and hung his head. Following along the ground next to him, his shadow grew longer with each stride.
    “Shoutan,” one of his companions wheezed, “do you think maybe the master is really gone?”
    At this point, Shoutan had to face facts. “Yeah. Sure looks like it.”
    He let out a long breath. The painful stitch in his side told him his forty-plus year old body couldn’t take much more of this.
    “The master has got to be resting with the others. If we keep going—”
    Shoutan stopped and took a breath. He had a hard time believing what he was saying. Kiwa had taken off at a full gallop. Nobody on foot was about to catch up with him. Even if they managed to close the distance while Kiwa was resting, all it’d take was that youma showing up and Kiwa would be gone in a flash. They’d be eating his dust all over again.
    The man running behind Shoutan sank to his knees. “Dammit to hell.”
    “Hey!” Shoutan called out.
    But the man shook his head. “I’ve had enough. I can’t run another inch.”
    Shoutan stopped as well. Another man sat where he was standing and lay down on the ground. And yet another followed his example.
    Surely if they kept running they would catch up with Kiwa. But any desire to exhort his companions onward died as well. Shoutan sat down in the middle of the road. His breath was raw in his throat. His body felt like there was a big, hot rock lodged in his side. He lay down.
    The youma was coming. It’d followed them all this way. Another attack was inevitable. Kiwa was only opening the distance between them. But he couldn’t care less.
    Nobody said anything. They sat there and lay there and took one ragged breath after the other. A group tailing even farther behind caught up with them. They looked at down at Shoutan and the others. Shoutan and the others looked up at them. Nobody said a word.
    Their faces twisted in distress. Like a levee giving way they collapsed to the road with a collective gasp. Still nobody spoke. The moon rose. More of Kiwa’s abandoned company arrived in drips and drabs, filling the wash at the base of the hill.
    Their master had abandoned them. They were hauling the hand carts when the screams erupted and the master’s wagon disappeared into the distance. Knowing they would catch hell for it afterwards, they abandoned the carts and ran after him. They couldn’t outrace three teams of horses.
    In the middle of the savanna, they came across another band of stragglers. Now it was just them. And the youma.
    Most of those going on the Shouzan had horses, so the majority of those