Kaya Sees the World, Chapter 23
Kaya made another cut in her bedpost, using a sharp blade she'd acquired after her first few days in Irontown. She'd done this every day since the women had left with Ashitaka, partly to pass the time and partly out of curiosity of how much longer it would take the women than the men-if any. She knew that once the women put their mind to something it would be impossibly to change their ideas.
Five deep elongated cuts for five long, boring days. Kaya sighed. Toki would probably reprimand her for defiling the bed when she returned.
In the past, when Lady Eboshi had led the men, it had taken then no longer than seven days, no matter what wind and rain they traveled through. Therefore, Kaya reasoned, they should be coming home soon. She, like everyone else in the village, knew that the rice supply was running very low.
She had been passing most of her time stitching on a new kimono, although there was no need for one. The only reason she had bothered to make herself new ones in the past was because her old ones had been frayed and torn by too many trips into the forest, and she hadn't made any of those recently. She longed to see San again but was fearful of her reaction, though she still didn't know what exactly had happened.
Fall was coming, thought Kaya dispiritedly. Strangely she'd stood in front of the cabin every day and watched a sunset of leaves flutter down before her. With no more starflowers in bloom-not that Kaya would venture near the forest recently-she'd woven some leaf crowns out of the most beautiful and bright leaves she could find, then placed them at Lady Eboshi's grave. She'd swept piles of them out of her cabin when they floated in through the windows during the night. She'd even used those piles for kindling when she didn't feel like going to get firewood. But Kaya had never noticed it was fall.
So that meant her first wintertime in Irontown was approaching, and she couldn't think of a colder way to spend it. With no one speaking to her, her best friend dead, and isolated from her other friend. . .
Kaya stretched out on her bed, reviewing wintertimes of years past. Every year she and Ashitaka had played out in the snow, pelting each other with snowballs until they were screaming with cold and laughter. Some years other royal children had been brought to play with them-but all too quickly they had been whisked back to their own respective royal homes. There had never been anything as beautiful, the younger Kaya had once thought, as watching snowflakes fall in front of the bright moon from her window.
She watched from a different window now, as she thought these thoughts. Kaya imagined the bright forest bare and leafless, clawed branches tearing through the sky. She wondered how snow would look falling from them.
And in spite of herself, Kaya couldn't help wishing that she was back in the home where she had grown up.
= = = = = = =
He was doing his best to hide his frustration and confusion, but Ashitaka knew the women had long ago noticed. He mused that any moment one might of them-most likely Toki-would declare him unfit to lead (of course, he was a man-and that earned him an infinite number of strikes against him in Toki's book) and overthrow him.
In the past five days they'd slowly made their way over twelve mountains in all. Most of their food supply was gone and Ashitaka knew that sooner or later he'd have to stop and send the women off on a search for food. It had never happened before when Lady Eboshi had lead, and Ashitaka shook inwardly as he thought of the idea of having to stop to forage for food.
The past nights had been cold. Winter was drawing nearer, bringing with it hissing winds, shredding the foliage and showering them in leaves. The women had slept uncomplainingly on the cold ground, however, covering themselves with leaves, huddling together to share the warmth.
Ashitaka admired them for it.
If they pressed on much longer, he thought, they would either die of starvation, or exhaustion. But if they stopped here they'd freeze to death, and if they turned back they'd die from being teased by the men.
The road diverged at noon of that fifth day. Following Ashitaka's example, everyone stopped, and he bought himself some time by letting the reason of their lack of movement travel to the back of their company. Meanwhile, he got off of Yakkul to examine both dirt paths carefully. There were no signs of footprints anywhere, nor could he remember which he had gone down before. Both paths seemed equally broken.
As Toki made her way to the front, a small chipmunk scrambled down the left path, chasing a nut. Ashitaka straightened; his decision was made.
"We'll take this one," he said, remounting Yakkul. The group silently followed him.
As the last horse stepped obediently down the left trail, a kodama appeared on the edge of the road. It sat on a rock, staring down at the weary travelers while shaking its head; then, with a few clicks and rotations of its head, it got up and ran down the right path.
Kaya made another cut in her bedpost, using a sharp blade she'd acquired after her first few days in Irontown. She'd done this every day since the women had left with Ashitaka, partly to pass the time and partly out of curiosity of how much longer it would take the women than the men-if any. She knew that once the women put their mind to something it would be impossibly to change their ideas.
Five deep elongated cuts for five long, boring days. Kaya sighed. Toki would probably reprimand her for defiling the bed when she returned.
In the past, when Lady Eboshi had led the men, it had taken then no longer than seven days, no matter what wind and rain they traveled through. Therefore, Kaya reasoned, they should be coming home soon. She, like everyone else in the village, knew that the rice supply was running very low.
She had been passing most of her time stitching on a new kimono, although there was no need for one. The only reason she had bothered to make herself new ones in the past was because her old ones had been frayed and torn by too many trips into the forest, and she hadn't made any of those recently. She longed to see San again but was fearful of her reaction, though she still didn't know what exactly had happened.
Fall was coming, thought Kaya dispiritedly. Strangely she'd stood in front of the cabin every day and watched a sunset of leaves flutter down before her. With no more starflowers in bloom-not that Kaya would venture near the forest recently-she'd woven some leaf crowns out of the most beautiful and bright leaves she could find, then placed them at Lady Eboshi's grave. She'd swept piles of them out of her cabin when they floated in through the windows during the night. She'd even used those piles for kindling when she didn't feel like going to get firewood. But Kaya had never noticed it was fall.
So that meant her first wintertime in Irontown was approaching, and she couldn't think of a colder way to spend it. With no one speaking to her, her best friend dead, and isolated from her other friend. . .
Kaya stretched out on her bed, reviewing wintertimes of years past. Every year she and Ashitaka had played out in the snow, pelting each other with snowballs until they were screaming with cold and laughter. Some years other royal children had been brought to play with them-but all too quickly they had been whisked back to their own respective royal homes. There had never been anything as beautiful, the younger Kaya had once thought, as watching snowflakes fall in front of the bright moon from her window.
She watched from a different window now, as she thought these thoughts. Kaya imagined the bright forest bare and leafless, clawed branches tearing through the sky. She wondered how snow would look falling from them.
And in spite of herself, Kaya couldn't help wishing that she was back in the home where she had grown up.
= = = = = = =
He was doing his best to hide his frustration and confusion, but Ashitaka knew the women had long ago noticed. He mused that any moment one might of them-most likely Toki-would declare him unfit to lead (of course, he was a man-and that earned him an infinite number of strikes against him in Toki's book) and overthrow him.
In the past five days they'd slowly made their way over twelve mountains in all. Most of their food supply was gone and Ashitaka knew that sooner or later he'd have to stop and send the women off on a search for food. It had never happened before when Lady Eboshi had lead, and Ashitaka shook inwardly as he thought of the idea of having to stop to forage for food.
The past nights had been cold. Winter was drawing nearer, bringing with it hissing winds, shredding the foliage and showering them in leaves. The women had slept uncomplainingly on the cold ground, however, covering themselves with leaves, huddling together to share the warmth.
Ashitaka admired them for it.
If they pressed on much longer, he thought, they would either die of starvation, or exhaustion. But if they stopped here they'd freeze to death, and if they turned back they'd die from being teased by the men.
The road diverged at noon of that fifth day. Following Ashitaka's example, everyone stopped, and he bought himself some time by letting the reason of their lack of movement travel to the back of their company. Meanwhile, he got off of Yakkul to examine both dirt paths carefully. There were no signs of footprints anywhere, nor could he remember which he had gone down before. Both paths seemed equally broken.
As Toki made her way to the front, a small chipmunk scrambled down the left path, chasing a nut. Ashitaka straightened; his decision was made.
"We'll take this one," he said, remounting Yakkul. The group silently followed him.
As the last horse stepped obediently down the left trail, a kodama appeared on the edge of the road. It sat on a rock, staring down at the weary travelers while shaking its head; then, with a few clicks and rotations of its head, it got up and ran down the right path.