A/N: Still not done with this damn book. /sobsobsob/ I'm trying, though.

Zathura - Thanks for holding in there! Leo has so much to push through. ; u;

Sciencegal - Leo thought so, too.

CHAPTER 10: HONOR

Although the sun had set over K'ekchi Village multiple times, it never once bored Leonardo. Mundane tasks always busied the tribesmen below it. Lately, the people had been patching canoes from their previous Rainy Season. Leo found it interesting how their hands roamed the dark wood, like doctors who knew where to look for a disease. Then, the flaws were fixed, as if collisions with branches and rocks had never happened. Once, he had been that efficient and sure-footed. Wonder how it felt…

"Ah-mo! Awk! Ah-mo!"

Leonardo groaned as vibrant yellow and blue feathers blocked his view. "Go away, Yo," he told the Macaw.

Yolotli's head tilted, his fish-like eye focused on the mutant.

"I'm not 'ah-mo'," Leo continued. "The only 'bad' thing around here is how others consider you a guard."

Feathers ruffling, Yo shivered then beat air into Leo's face with his wings. The bird perched on the mutant's head and continued squawking until an amused voice called his name. Coyolxauhqui cooed in her native tongue—Nahuatl, Huitzilopochtli had called it. She caught the Macaw on her shoulder then massaged under his beak, speaking more foreign words.

"Some English would be nice," Leo said. He rubbed where the bird's talons had dug into his scalp and shifted along the hut's window when Coyo blinked. "Izel and your brother speak it. Why can't you?"

"Coyo learn," the tribeswoman drawled. "Di-fee-ult."

"You mean difficult?"

"Eh…Yes!"

Leo snorted. If anything, he granted her that much. Even Americans found English hard to master. Still, their conversations would be easier if she better applied herself to the lessons her brother instructed.

"Coyo better," added Coyo. "Uh, will better? Will…" The tribeswoman grumbled in Nahuatl, head shaking. After a long moment, her round lips puckered and her gaze landed on the mutant with an intensity that made him squirm.

"Uh, sorry?" Leo told her.

"Coyo understand. Will!" Coyo paused then spoke again. "Will understand. Coyo will understand!"

Leo's mouth twitched upwards when the tribeswoman cheered yet remained silent while Yo retreated to the rafters. He watched Coyo approach then hissed when she knelt to probe his injured leg.

"Stop," he said.

Coyo, however, ignored the outburst. "More Tetani," she muttered.

Leo pressed his hands against his purplish flesh. "Don't waste herbs. I've been through worse."

'And ya deserved it.'

Inside, the mutant's guts churned at the smell of perfumed meat that stung his sinuses. God, the rotting could've been anyone: Abigail, Joseph, Donald, maybe even Lombardo.

"Leonardo?" questioned Coyolxauhqui.

Leo inhaled until mustiness replaced the ghost scent. "Look," he said, "I'm sorry for the trouble. Seems to be the only thing I cause nowadays."

Coyo stared pensively when she sat back on her bare feet. "No trouble. It…" She trailed off with furrowed brows as if digging through her memory for the right words. "Honor. Serve is honor."

She found honor in that? In fetching water and food? In harvesting Tetani leaves? How? Hell, she was Chieftain. She must've had more than enough underlings who could care for the mutant while she dealt with more pressing matters. Why do it herself?

"Coyo live for people. Serve K'ekchi is honor." Despite a shaky start, the tribeswoman's words strengthened. "Leonardo in village. Mean Coyo serve. K'ekchi like Leonardo."

"You mean worship," Leo spat.

He recalled a raw quail, its head attached by a red, stringy tendon. While no other animals had been offered, the villagers' gifts persisted. From baskets and jewelry to dried meats and fruits, they filled the library. Such attention left a pit in the mutant's stomach, and he wondered if the villagers would still self-exile if he disappeared rather than rejected them.

"No," Coyo said. "Not worship."

"What else would you call it?"

"Gifts are…hopes. People hope in Leonardo, in what he symbolizes. Change."

"I don't need any more people placing hope on me."

"Leo—"

"You don't know me, Coyolxauhqui. If you did, you wouldn't let your people hold me in such high esteem." Leo's narrowed eyes challenged the tribeswoman. His chest clenched tighter the longer she remained wordless, and he fought against Donald's snide comments that burned the back of his mind. "I'm a fallen leader. A failure."

Coyo's arms fell, her round features wounded. "Coyo understand."

"No. She doesn't."

"Leading not easy. Days feel long or lonely, but"—the tribeswoman forced a smile—"Leonardo give hope. Coyo thank Leonardo's hope."

"I'm not worth thanking." Were those Leo's words or Donald's?

"Faith holy to K'ekchi. Is honor to—"

"Stop using 'honor,' dammit!" Leo didn't care if others heard him outside the hut or that the human flinched when he slapped the floor. "There's no honor in life. It's an illusion. A lie. You can never live above the shit that happens, and it's stupid to try. Truth is: we don't matter. None of us. So why bother?"

"No matter?" whispered Coyo.

"Yeah. And my stay here won't bring anything good, either. As soon as I can walk again…" Leo sighed, thoughts dwelling on how Donald manifested more often in solitude than in the village. "I don't know. Just don't use that word."

Coyolxauhqui nodded, even though Leonardo doubted she understood the gravity in his command. Her orange eyes were glazed, and she glanced aside.

"Coyo bring Tetani leaves," she said, rising.

"Take your time," Leo countered.

"Mah shee-pah-tee-neh-mee, Leonardo."

"Be well yourself."

Leo's attention returned to the sunset as his hands lay in his lap. Whether they were clammy from stress or the Dry Season's increased humidity, he couldn't be sure. He rubbed the moisture together, all the same, to focus on anything except Coyo's slumped shoulders as she exited the library.

A heaviness weighed on Coyolxauhqui as she entered her brother's hut. And not because Yolotli rode her shoulder.

"Coyo," Huitzilopochtli said, "did you not have a meeting with the Tonalquizca?"

The woman urged Yo towards the window. After he had perched on its edge, she neared the fire pit at the hut's center, poking its red coals with a stone-tipped stick. Heat tightened the skin across her face, chest, knees, and arms, but she dared not move—not until she could forget Leonardo's glare.

"Coyo." Huitzi shuffled around his table. "Ignoring troubles will not solve them."

"Neither will wallowing in them," countered Coyo. "Attend our tribe's burial site. Surely our ancestors' spirits would tell you likewise."

Huitzi sighed. "War is our reality. Accept it."

"You mean like our father did?" Coyo's growl was deep, and Yo's feathers ruffled at it.

"Warrior Atl sacrificed everything of himself for his people," said Huitzi—a dead action. "No less is expected of us."

Coyo's head shook as she stabbed the fire pit. "If we move forward at the expense of our spirits, nothing but shells will be left behind. The sacrifices must stop."

"They will. Once the war is won."

"Winning could require another hundred seasons."

"Then we will fight another hundred seasons."

"Would you really want your children to inherit this pain?" The woman sent her brother a pointed stare. He fiddled with a statue at his table, sanding it with a porous rock.

"The village children know their duty," he said. "As do you. But unlike them, you will not embrace it."

Coyo pursed her dry mouth then buried the stone tip under several coals. "Let us not argue tonight, Huitzi. I am tired. And confused."

"You?" The man chuckled, and a thump sounded when he placed the statue down. "I should be saying such things."

"It is Leonardo."

"What about him?"

"I wish to understand him."

"If you dismissed our English lessons less often, you could."

"No, I mean—" Coyo's gaze fell on the glowing coals. "I know so little about him. Yet..."

Something behind Leonardo's red-brown eyes stirred the woman. The emotions were familiar. They had haunted her every day since childhood. And she longed to discover how much more he and she had in common.

"What does 'mah-ter' mean?" she asked.

"In what context?"

Frowning, Coyolxauhqui hesitated to repeat the English phrase. "We don't mah-ter."

"Did Leonardo tell you this?" A chair scraped against the floor as Huitzilopochtli stood, although his sister would not face him.

"Please, answer," she said.

The man groaned. "He meant we are insignificant, worthless. Who was the 'we' he was referring to?"

"Everyone," whispered Coyo. "He hates the word 'honor.' Why?"

"Coyolxauhqui."

"No." The woman shook her head, knowing full-well where her brother's warning would lead. "I cannot."

"You must. As Chieftain, tradition is of utmost value and should not be ignored by frivolous musings."

"All the more reason you should lead. I agree with Izel more often than I do with the Elders."

"Heed not silly friends."

"Izel is not silly. She is"—Coyo glanced aside—"different."

Huitzi sighed, curt and loud. "Our culture cannot collapse because you cling to childish things. Our traditions nearly died when we migrated with the Teonehnemi."

"I remember the stories."

"And visions."

Coyo glared into the red pit, uncertain if the warmth stemmed from it or her lingering memories from an alien race. "It is our duty to fulfill Eztaca, even though our ancestors made it," she said. "However, I am not Warrior Atl or Quauhtli. Nor am I Chieftain Xilonen. Or Mother. To accept the war as inevitable—"

"Would bring your mind closer to the plight beyond our barriers."

"You think me ignorant?" The top-heavy poker thumped against the ground as Coyolxauhqui whirled, eyes narrowing.

Huitzilopochtli watched her from the table with calm regard. "A reputable woman is a pillar of calm, even when trouble looms."

"Stop it, Brother! Mother's quotes have no place here."

"Of course they do. They have a place with every young woman in this tribe—just as they had for generations before Chieftain Coatlicue."

"Our lives are not what they were that many generations ago."

"Does that mean I ought not to walk with dignity as Warrior Atl taught me?"

"He was our father, Huitzi." Sniffling, Coyo rubbed her eyes to keep tears from falling. "Even between us, can you not address him like it?"

"So because we are in private, I should be vulgar and impolite?"

"It is not vulgarity. It is intimacy, love."

"Love is respect."

"You can respect someone and call them 'Mother' or 'Father.' Why must we always stand on ceremony?"

"Without ceremony, what control does the K'ekchi have?" Huitzi glared through fierce orange eyes—the only betrayal of his anger. He stood, and each tap his staff's butt made against the floor sent pangs through his sister. "We have settled into this life," he continued. "But because we have coped with over a hundred Wet Seasons of war does not mean the war has lost value or potency. Our people must know we will not be shaken. We will not change for any Yaoqui. And our roots are as important today as they were before the Teo fell from the heavens."

"So time cannot touch us?" countered Coyo. "It touches everyone, Huitzi, from the day one is born."

"Our people put faith in tradition, Coyolxauhqui. It gives them comfort, a sense they are not powerless."

"It is a lie."

"A lie they must believe."

Coyo about fell backward when her head jerked upwards. "You admit that?"

"Minds are fragile"—the man paused—"Sister. Minds in war even less so."

"Like Father."

A hard line formed across Huitzi's mouth, his fingers tight around his staff.

"Can we make a deal?" Coyolxauhqui smiled, pleased by her brother's sigh because it meant his consideration.

"What deal this time?" he asked.

"I will be more, uh, respectable during our English lessons if you take more time out of the day to teach me."

"You want longer lessons? To better speak with Leonardo, I take it."

"Yes."

"And what do I gain?" The man quirked an eyebrow as his sister jumped up and nearly tripped over the poker by the fire pit.

She gave a nervous chuckle then straightened her back, saying, "I will not question the Elders so often."

"You will listen?"

Although pained by it, Coyo nodded.

"Yet not for tradition's sake," Huitzi added.

"No," the woman answered. "For the necessary lie. You think our people need to see me obey? So be it."

"Until Leonardo leaves, you mean?" Huitzi caught his sister's gaze. She could not look away nor move, and when he groaned, his staff and arm fell. "Very well," he said. "But no complaints. From you or Izel."

"Yes!" Coyolxauhqui grinned. "She will listen, too. Promise."

A/N: Sibling barters LOL. Least Leo has someone on his side, even if he doesn't want the support...All well! Until next mother, ya'll (or maybe less if I can finish these last ten chapters, ugh.)