I expect to hear Mare’s insistence that I’ll keep them safe, but it never comes.
We makeit right before sundown, and the first words out of the princess’s mouth are simple.
“The Inka is dead,” she says in Quechua to the man waiting for us at the entrance of the community.
He saw us walking up, the same way we saw him, a dark silhouette atop a hill in the fading light. I had asked the princessif we should hide, but she said no.It’s better that they send someone to meet us. And they did, though how she knows he understands Quechua is a different matter.
The man we initially saw is now flanked by two teenagers, just on the younger side of us. Though they’re all dressed in traditional farming ponchos, the younger people at his sides look more robust. They’re here for security.
“The Inka…” the man responds, every word heavily accented, and drifts off. He looks at the sun setting behind the mountains on the horizon. He snaps back to attention and continues. “Why would we believe you?” He asks in stunted Quechua, more like a challenge than a question. He’s staring at the princess like he already knows exactly what she’ll do.
The princess must notice this too, because she rises to the defense. She pulls her shoulders back and stands strong, stronger than she already does in her day-to-day. I’ve never seen her slouch, but I’ve never seen her this alert either. And all for an old farmer from Isla Amantani.
“I am the Inka’s daughter, Princess Yanami. I would not lie about my mother’s death,” she says.
The farmer smiles, but it’s a sad motion. His eyes soften, and his unshed tears reflect the orange of the setting sun. He blinks rapidly and says something in Aymara to the two youths beside him. They go off running toward the few lights in the distance.
“Yanami,” the old man whispers. “Yanami of the Yana family. You’re home.”
He takes a step toward the princess, but I step in his path.
“Ah, and you’ve brought your champion. Just like your mother.”
It hasn’t been long since the last time I was referred to as Yanami’s, but the words stab me in the chest so hard I have to hold back a gasp. Yanami, just like her mother. Me, just like mine.
“Don’t compare me to my mother when she’s dead–”
“And you’re alive? By the Guardians’ grace, you are, baby Yana,” the man dares to cut the princess off mid-sentence.
I’m lost. They’re speaking Quechua, yet I don’t understand what’s happening. The princess is breathing hard as if in a fight. The man immediately wipes away the first tear that dared to break free from his eyes.
“Come. We cannot risk you out here without the sun,” he tells her, continuing to ignore Mare and me.
The moment he turns around, the princess deflates. I look away to give her a moment of privacy, but I’m shocked back into her orbit when she takes my hand. It’s a jumpstart to my heart. It’s a kick to the ribs. Her hand in mine is a haze-filled dream.
But I’m awake, painfully so.
“Neither of you let go,” she says. Mare immediately nods his head, but I’m slow on the uptake, still too surprised by the broken promises of her soft skin to confirm. “Promise me, champion.”
What am I supposed to say to that? Lake Titicaca at night is a terrifying entity on its own. To get split up as night creeps closer… There is no easier way to disappear.
We walk forward together, the princess taking the lead and guiding us through a series of stone arches marking a path that’s becoming harder and harder to see in the fading light.
“Hurry,” the man says, not bothering to look back at us.
He’s not far enough ahead for us to lose him, but the fear is there as it gets darker. My burning legs struggle to keep up with the princess’s fast strides. A part of me is glad it’s getting dark. That means I can’t see any of the blood on Mare’s bad leg. It means I can almost ignore it.
That is, until he trips over a root I barely notice, and it’s only my grip on his hand keeping him up.
“Wait,” I yell, but she won’t stop. Mare stumbles behind me, and I pull the princess back to slow her down so Mare isn’t dragged on the floor. “Princess, wait.”
“No. We keep going. It’s almost night.” Her voice is cold in a way I haven’t heard since we first met.
Mare whimpers, but before I can protest, he’s regained his footing and is jogging behind me once again, hand still firm in mine. I realize then how much more effort he must be putting in to keep up with our long legs.
When we make it to a house and stop, I breathe a sigh of relief. I pull Mare into my arms and try to support as much of his weight as possible, but he wriggles out of my hold and demands to stand on his own. I want to be proud of his independence. I should be proud.
The man grunts as he pulls open a thin blue metal door. The princess guides us inside, and the door shuts with a clang as the last of the natural light fades.
