A/N: Delayed chapter. Sorry, folks. Slow progress. *sigh*

Duckie - So good to start hearing from you again! I needed that love, so thanks. You're going to hate Donald more and more. Lots more to be...had. Shall I call the Ghostbusters? :D (Also, am I a bad person for giggling at your threat towards Yo?)

Zathura - Yes, progression is slow in this story, but at least we're getting into the meat of it. This journey's been much different from my other stories...on all fronts.

Sciencegal - That is exactly how Coyo thinks things work. LOL Healing takes fffoooorrrreeeevvveeeeerrrr.

CHAPTER 11: CIHUAPATLI NENETL

Izel stood outside K'ekchi Village, digging out dirt from below her fingernails while her best friend spoke with Cihuapatli Nenetl.

"But," Coyo said.

Nenetl extended a spotted hand from where she sat on the forest floor. "The Tetani, please."

Coyo huffed then faced Izel.

"No," Izel said. "I warned you how serious she was."

"I can do this," Coyo told Nenetl. She clenched tighter to the broad leaves she held, making them crunch. "I have been Leonardo's caretaker for over a full moon cycle."

Nenetl kept focused on the paste that she ground inside a mortar, saying, "It seems the knowledge you had learned alongside Ichtaca has proven useful."

"And I help Tlalli whenever the Tonalquizca leave our village."

"I acknowledge your proficiency with herbs, Coyolxauhqui. However, medicine is my purpose. What is yours?"

Coyo withheld a sigh; it expanded her chest. And for once, Izel held her tongue. 'Coyo has been spending less time with the Tonalquizca ever since Chieftain Coatlicue passed on. Even I admit Tlaloc should not remain as their voice much longer.'

"Attend your duties, Honored Chief," said Nenetl. She sounded serious with her hand still outstretched, yet also gave a smile that crinkled her old eyes. "As for me? I must see this turtle creature. It is fascinating how he survived Hupaxque and can almost walk again so soon after his legs were shattered."

"Ho—how—?" Coyo's head whipped towards Izel. "Did you tell?"

"Why would I?" Izel asked, arms crossed. "Maybe it was Huitzi."

"It was," Nenetl said. "Now." The Elder bounced up on her knees to catch Coyolxauhqui's hand. She pried the Tetani leaves from the younger woman then sat back down, crushing them with a pestle.

"Coyo." Izel leaned towards the curly-haired Chieftain then whispered, "You knew from the moment Leonardo entered our village that he would no longer be your secret."

"He is wounded," said Coyo in a hiss.

"So I have seen."

"No. I mean"—the Chieftain turned further towards her best friend—"more than his legs. More than sickness. He is…scarred."

"Which makes you the only one who can understand him?"

Coyo's head jerked upwards. Her wide eyes were familiar enough not to pierce Izel with their realization and shame. Although, part of the younger woman loathed how Coyo could think—even for a moment—that she alone felt misplaced.

"Bicker, bicker, bicker," Nenetl interjected. "What sisters."

Coyolxauhqui stepped away from Izel, watching Nenetl gather her herbs and stand. "Elder, please."

Nenetl sent the Chieftain a yellow-tooth smile. "Did you not make Huitzi a promise?"

Coyo's slack mouth made Izel stifle her laughter. "Did you think your brother would forget?" Izel asked.

Coyo faced her best friend. "He had no reason to—"

"Relay your promise to the entire Elder Council?" Nenetl questioned.

Coyo paled. "He did not."

"Oh, he did. Elder Yaolt seemed particularly relieved."

"Serves you right," added Izel. "You included me without permission. Now Elder Matlal and Sacnite are staring at me like they expect things."

"You do hold the lowest inventory count of all Calpocatl," Nenetl told Izel.

The skinhead lifted her chin. "Which is a record I pride myself on. I prefer to paint bodies."

Nenetl groaned, dropping the subject. Good; Izel had argued with the Medicine Woman over assigned roles too many times already. She stood still as the Elder passed but then twisted when she called out.

"Will you be joining the Calpocatl or me, Izel?"

The answer was clear before Izel even nodded. The skinhead turned to follow, but Coyolxauhqui caught her bicep.

"Do not let Nenetl pry," Coyo said. "You know how she is."

"Like me?" Izel smirked. "You fear she will frighten him away?" The Chieftain looked down, and Izel's humor fell with a sigh. "I doubt it would come to that."

"Please, Izel, promise to keep her—"

"Manageable? Fine. I promise. But"—Izel glanced aside—"it won't be easy."

Leonardo found comfort in Coyolxauhqui's routine. It brought order, predictability, and assurance. Some hunched elderly woman with a decorated staff was not part of the routine. Neither was Izel.

"Wh—what's going on?" Leo asked. He watched the tribeswomen enter the hut and scooted closer to the window he sat beside.

"Oh, relax," the elder said, swatting the air. "You are in no danger."

"Izel, who's…?" Leo turned from the skinhead to the stranger. "You speak English?"

"What else should an aged Shaman learn in her leisure time?" the old lady questioned. "Basket weaving? Clothe mending? Necklace beading? I shall leave such tasks to younger hands."

"How lucky of us, See-wha-pah-tlee," said Izel dryly. She blanched when the older tribeswoman patted her, blue lips puckered.

"My name is Knee-knee-chee," the Shaman added."

Leo sent Izel a pointed look. "Where's Coyo?"

"Off being responsible," Izel answered. "She made a promise."

"And is honorable enough to keep it," Nenetl interjected. "Besides, healing is my specialty."

"I'm not fond of doctors," Leo said, gripping his knees.

"Good thing I am no doctor then. I am more. And I…need a favor, Izel."

Izel looked less-than-surprised as the elder rummaged through a leather bag. "What now?"

Nenetl's sunken mouth formed a smile. "I have forgotten several herbs, it seems. This old mind slips with such youthful distractions. You understand, yes?"

"Uh-huh."

"Could you please retrieve them, conetl? You know the spot."

Chest puffed, Izel spun on her heel then threw her arms outwards.

"Tlah-so-cah-mah-tee, Izel!" Nenetl yelled.

The skinhead rolled her eyes but complied. She flashed a grin before leaving—much like the one Michelangelo gave every time he prepared to beat his brothers at Mario Carts.

"Leonardo." Nenetl waddled towards Leo. It was a wonder the weighted baggies swaying from her staff didn't hit her upside her balding head. "Pee-ah-lee."

Leo soured; he couldn't help it. "If you've come to gawk at me—"

Nenetl snorted. "Do I look like a woman who has never seen a strange creature before?"

The mutant stared into the elder's weathered face as she leaned forward and sat. Her orange eyes were darker than Izel's or Coyo's—almost brown—and yet they held the same acceptance.

"As I thought." Nenetl's sunken smile returned. "Ah-mo. I am here as a healer. Though I admit stories whispered throughout the village piqued my interest."

"What stories?"

The Elder hummed under the mutant's glare. "Perhaps if you saw more than this library, you would know."

"I can't exactly walk."

"Not alone. You could always—Great Ometeotl!" Nenetl's flat nose scrunched. "When was the last time you bathed?"

Leo sniffed himself. What was wrong? He had smelled this way for months.

Nenetl shook her head, grumbling in Nahuatl. She loosened the drawstring on one of the many baggies attached to her staff. She pulled out a couple dried leaves, ground them between her palms, and then rubbed them along the mutant's tender legs.

"Hey!" Leo cried. He pushed the elder back with a weak arm.

"An uncared for body nurtures a sick mind," Nenetl said.

Leo scoffed. "What do you know about my mind?"

"Personally? Little. However, I know those eyes." The Elder's movements eased, yet she continued her task. "You have a warrior's stare. But it is worn, defeated. Like many K'ekchi stares."

"Yeah?" Leo blinked. His limbs felt heavy, lethargic. He breathed in a bitter scent from his legs and concluded he had been drugged. Again.

'What is with these people and their so-called remedies?' Although, he did smell better.

"Huitzilopochtli spoke of the miraculous things your body has done," continued Nenetl. "Yet I can also tell you do not appreciate the miracle."

"Is that what it was? A miracle?" The mutant closed his eyes, recalling the wet contact his body made with the forest floor.

"What would you call it? Bad luck?"

Leo didn't answer.

"I cannot pretend to know you or your story, telpochtli." Nenetl spoke so much like Splinter that the mutant froze under her callous fingertips. "However, I have spent a lifetime surrounded by the sick and weary. I know pain. And I know when someone is lost."

Leo snorted. "Next you'll be telling me 'life is what I make it.' That I—I should take control. Right?"

"Have you lost your wits?" Nenetl's round eyes widened. "We are never in control. Life is a river current. It beats us against stones. Pulls us under. Immerses us. It cannot be stopped, and to survive, we must accept we do not decide where or how we are carried. We simply flow."

"Yeah? Where to? A waterfall? The edges of the earth?"

"Waters run in full circles. Just like life."

Leo scoffed and rubbed his temples.

"One cannot heal if they do not accept reality, Leonardo."

"Stop it," the mutant spat. But the old woman was unconcerned with his glare. "Why do any of you care? I'm not one of your people."

"Kindness is unbiased. It can be shared with anyone, even from humans to creatures."

"For what reason? It makes no difference. We aren't—" Sighing, Leo furrowed his eye ridges.

"You remind me of my son." Although Nenetl's voice broke, she maintained a steady stare as her hands left Leo's legs. "I…I refuse to watch such pain again. Tell me: what would lure you out of this library?"

"For starters, people could stop looking at me like I'm a savior," Leo said. Man, had he been waiting to tell someone that. "I'm no god. Or hero. I—I couldn't even save—" Swallowing, Leonardo faced the hot breeze that flowed through the window.

"You were robbed of so much," Nenetl whispered. "What was it? A partner? A friend? Your faith?"

"Yeah, what'd ya lose, Freak?" a voice whispered in Leo's ear. It made the mutant shudder, even though Donald hadn't manifested.

"You are not the only one in need of healing, Leonardo," Nenetl said.

Leo shook his head until dizziness muddled Donald's invisible presence. "Look, thanks for the potpourri, but I'm not here for psychiatric care. I'm here because Coyo ran for help. As soon as I can walk again…."

What? He'd continue meandering through the rainforest? Wait for a predator to pick him off? He'd almost succumbed to that once already. And he had fought back—rapidly so. No matter how many times his mind gave up, his body kept fighting. Why?

Nenetl smiled through Leo's double vision. "Our Chieftain brought you here. She saved your life. I would be curious as to why."

Leo furrowed his eye ridges, and the Elder sniggered as movement sounded at the library door. Izel entered with a dead expression, lifting a bag with one hand.

"These were not in the usual spot," she told Nenetl.

Nenetl covered her sunken mouth. "This is why you were delayed?"

Izel's lips turned downwards. She approached then bent over to deliver the bag into the Elder's waiting arms. "You are a manipulative old lady," she said. A heartbeat later, she grinned. "I love you, Citli."

"Ah-ah-ah!" Nenetl wagged a bony finger until Izel huffed.

"Sorry," Izel said. "Cihuapatli Nenetl."

What did 'sit-lee' mean? It could've been an inside joke, judging by the way the tribeswomen exchanged smirks. Actually. Leo narrowed his eyes. Their smirks were very similar, as if related.

"Does it matter, Freak?" Donald scoffed inside Leo's mind, forcing his attention elsewhere. "What's knowin' more about the tribe gonna get ya, huh?"

"A distraction," Joseph answered. "You could use one of those, Leonardo. Besides, you owe Coyo for—"

Donald cut off the Chinese man so fiercely, his voice throbbed Leo's brain. "Owe her? Bullshit! We didn't ask for anything."

"All the more reason he should give her a chance, right?"

Maybe the herbs from earlier made Joseph and Donald seem more real than usual. If possible, the mutant would pull the ghosts from his mind. But as things stood, he could only stare and consider Joseph's words. Perhaps Leo did need a distraction, an escape. He had a feeling Coyo would know a good place…