A/N: I'm in a giving spirit, LOL.

Duckie - Someone ask for an anchor? /points at chapter title/ Anywho. Yeah. There's lots of trials going around and more to come...

Sciencegal - Mortality sucks. Poor siblings. You know that well. :(

CHAPTER 19: ANCHOR

Should Izel feel terrible for finding solace in not suffering alone? Because she could not fight her grin as Leonardo struggled to shape an Eiehuia.

"That cochotl?" she asked in English, leaning sideways on a blanket.

The turtle creature glanced down then held up his artwork.

Bits of curled wood was still attached, giving it a frayed appearance, and Izel cocked her head, asking, "Where face?"

"Huh?" Leo looked taken aback. "Can't you tell?"

"No."

"This is its eyes. See?" The creature pointed at two holes gouged into the Eiehuia but paused when his thumb brushed a protruding section of wood. The beak, perhaps, located opposite of its supposed eyes.

"Cochotl confused," Izel said with a laugh.

"Shut up." Leo blanched and tossed the totem into a basket of other rejects. It was full. "My hands will be stiff with splinters at this rate."

"You shave wood wrong."

"I hold things any way I can. Everything is so small."

"For you."

Leo snorted. "How do the Calpocatl make them seem easy? Even you have an army."

"Oh?" Izel gestured to the many Eiehuias that surrounded her body outside the artisan hut. "No great. Matlal and Sacnite say. Eiehuia child's work."

"Least they resemble animals."

Izel's smile grew lopsided as the turtle creature glanced at his reject pile. "Good Leo no carve because skill, hm?"

Leonardo grew rigid and his gaze dropped.

"No, no." Izel placed another block of wood in the creature's hands, clamped them together, and then shook his shoulder. Life returned to his expression, just what she wanted. "Moment by moment, Leonardo."

"Sorry." Leo met the skinhead's eyes, almost in shame. "I know I volunteered. But, honestly? I thought this would be easier."

"You control."

"Not really."

"Quema. See?" Izel reached into the reject basket to pick up a random Eiehuia. "You make, uh..." She studied the piece closer. "Pitzotl! Without Leo, no purpose."

"Doubtful. You would've—"

"Day not about me. Accept Eiehuia bring courage, make K'ekchi strong in sorrow. Start another."

Leo scoffed yet grinned. "You're about as bossy as your grandmother."

"Runs in blood."

"Apparently…Are you really going to give out these monstrosities?"

"Leo want to?"

"Please, don't."

"Coyo love Leo's Eiehuia. Carve for thanks?"

"Thanks for what? Dragging me into your village?"

Izel mirrored Leo's half-smile; it was so rare and welcomed, knowing she was one of few who ever saw it. "You make itzcuintli, dog, or tecolotl, owl."

"What do they mean?"

Love and marriage, respectively. Why warn him, though?

"Strong bond, friendship," the skinhead added. "Perfect for Coyo, yes?"

"Well, I…" Leo's cheeks darkened as he massaged the wood chunk between his hands. "Yo—you really think she'd like one?"

"Make Coyo...bright." Which was true. So why not pick examples for the creature to follow? "Look." She pointed at a fat tecolotl then tapped a tapped an itzciuntli, saying, "Owl. Dog."

"Does it matter which one I pick?"

"No."

"Alright."

Leo's eye ridges drew so close Izel swore he could hold a twig between them. He studied the Eiehuias with long consideration before finally settling on one: Monamictia, Marriage. He seemed satisfied with his choice, and Izel snickered as the turtle creature began shaping the wood with more care than the ones before. Their conversation dropped for what may have been seconds or minutes; Izel was too focused on the sound of children playing in the distance to count.

"Hey, Izel?" Leonardo blew shavings off his wood block. "Can I ask you something?"

The skinhead kept focused on painting thin lines over a flower-shaped Eiehuia, yet grunted for permission.

"You seem disinterested in your people's traditions," Leo followed up.

"That question?"

"An observation. I mean, you do the least amount of work possible, and act nothing like—"

"Other Calpocatl?" Izel glanced aside, just long enough to strike the creature with her bright eyes. "Tradition make life stale. Many pass down from before Ometeotl. Why uphold?"

"What sort of traditions came from before Ometeotl?"

"Sacrifice."

Leo cut into the wood a little too hard; his knife became wedged.

"Leo's offering first in many, many seasons," added Izel. She waited until the creature reclaimed his knife before continuing. "We no more take life, no more use red."

"Red's associated with sacrifices?"

"Red physical symbol."

"Of what?"

"Payment."

"Ah. Blood."

"It make sense. Once."

"What about now?"

"Now, K'ekchi believe Ometeotl, a god in whole universe. He expand beyond planet, guided Teo to us."

"So your tattoos—"

"Texohuitztli."

"Teh-show-wheats-lee?"

"Quema. The Blue Mark separate K'ekchi from other tribes, symbolize Eztaca, our pact. Blue represent Teo."

"They're more white than blue, but I see your point. Is—is that why your lips are blue too?"

Izel shook her head then rubbed her lips together to smooth the thick rouge over them. "Painted lips modern pleasure. Short hair, too."

"So it's your way of, what? Rebelling?"

"I refuse tribe's old standards of proper woman. Long hair for purity. Face clean of all except tattoos. Nurturing. Complacency." Izel pretended to gag. "Would you no despise role elders choose for you?"

Leo grew quiet, hands lowering to his lap. If his thoughts fell on his past, she could not blame him. His job as 'Jonin' sounded stressful, and he had darker things buried that he would not mention.

"It's hard," the creature whispered, "living up to an elder's expectations."

"Right. Why bother?"

"Still…" Leo's knife shaved the wood block—a tense, slow act. "It's harder to live up to your own expectations."

"No, I happy with self." Izel jabbed Leo with an elbow, although the teasing went ignored. Her grin became a frown as she drew a fatter line over her Eiehuia. "Expectations complex. People know who they want to be and what they want to do. Expectations sometimes too high, though. Set up disappointment."

Leonardo laughed a little too bitterly for Izel's comfort. The tip of his knife drew blood along his palm. Perhaps the pain kept him grounded to their conversation rather than his hallucinations.

"I know broken expectations," Izel added. "From Tatli, m—my father."

"Was he crazy, too?"

There was no easy answer. The man had not been insane—not in the sense that Leo used the word. Although, he had been out of his mind, must have been to leave his family like he did.

"War shatters people," Izel whispered.

"Not you."

"I artisan, not warrior."

"Unlike Coyo and I, huh?" Leo forced a chuckle that morphed into a sigh. He shifted on the blanket, knocking over several Eiehuias. He glanced at them yet did not apologize as he continued to carve his tecolotl.

"Leo"—Izel kept her tone casual—"no consider self warrior. Coyo either. Give no title. Hold no expectation. Just…be you. Is hard?"

"Honestly?" The mutant scoffed. "Back home I felt like I was always pretending, like I couldn't afford to be me."

"What about with K'ekchi?"

There was a long pause before Leo answered. "Lately, I don't feel like I need to fake anything."

"Good. Now finish Eiehuia. Coyo be back soon."

Leo laughed again; this time with more mirth. And Izel was content to let him be for the time being.

The Eiehuia felt heavy in Leonardo's palm, and he had no idea why. Coyolxauhqui wouldn't care about its poor craftsmanship, right? At least, she didn't seem like the type who would. So maybe Izel's words weighed on him. Something behind her smile when she explained the charm's meaning seemed misplaced—as if the owl held a deeper meaning.

'Well, I already made it,' thought Leo, hand clenching the wooden piece. 'Whatever it represents can't be that far off, can it?'

Could it? What if it did? Would he offend Coyo? Embarrassed her or worse, made her cry? Ugh, was he sweating? Damn humidity!

"Ayotl! Ayotl!"

Several children collected around Leo at the village gate, their faces red and their dark hair disheveled from play. They grinned somewhat, and one taller than the others was pushed forward. He sent a dirty look over his shoulder, but Leo greeted him with a smile.

"Hey," he said, "I don't see you guys often. Grown-ups probably told you to avoid me for a while there, huh?"

The eldest child stared, bright eyes studious.

"Seems Huitzi likes to keep you guys in class. Does that get boring?" The boy continued to stare, so Leo added, "You don't understand a word, do you? He's your Mach-keech, Teacher, right? Uh, Huitzi, Machixquich, quema?"

The child nodded then licked his lips. He glanced over his shoulder again; this time, to grab something from his friends. A ball? It resembled straw woven into a tight cluster, and the boy seemed hesitant in offering it.

"For me?" the mutant asked.

"Notōcā Icnoyotl," the kid said. "Ulama?"

"Is Ulama a game?"

Icnoyotl stepped forward so far that Leo could smell the musty dirt from the ball. "Leonardo. Ulama."

"I—I'm sorry. I don't know—is Ulama a game? Does it mean 'ball'?"

The boy huffed, his face growing redder. He backpedaled, spoke to a heavier-set friend, and then waited as the children cleared a path between them. Leo watched as the ball dropped then met the kid' hip. It hit with such precision that it arched further than the mutant thought possible, and the heavier-set kid batted it back with his own hip. Back and forth the ball sailed, bouncing off the ground maybe twice until another set of boys intervened.

A fifth boy caught it not long after, holding it up while cheering, "Ulama!"

So, Ulama was a game. And they wanted Leonardo to play? They wanted to include him? The mutant stared at the kids' expectant faces, trying to hide his excitement behind a gentle look. He reached for the ball that Icnoyotl had taken back—with every intent of figuring out the rules as the game progressed—but then he froze like the humid weather had been thickened by ice and not water.

The kid's expression hardened, turned dead, just as Leo's fingers brushed the ball. "What are ya doin'?" he asked. Huh? How was Icnoyotl speaking English? "Playin' games? Really? Who says ya deserve any fun, Freak?"

"Do—Donald?" Leo whispered. His trembling hand curled. "H—how?"

"What is this? Neverland?" Icnoyotl's eyes narrowed, darkening from orange to brown. "Just think happy thoughts and ya can fly again? Yeah, sorry, wrong."

"But I've been—I—I—" Leo could hardly breathe, let alone justify himself.

Wait; since when had he started defending himself?

"Exactly." The kid's voice deepened so much it sent tingles through the mutant. His voice was not his own, but Donald's, Abigail's, Joseph's, Chandler's and more. "Think ya can ignore us just because ya're here? Just because some chick makes ya feel like there's some good left in ya? Or because that alien claims she can help? Ya don't deserve help, asshole."

"I—I know." But Leo wanted it anyway. Otherwise…

"What? Ya'll kill yerself? Good. Join us. It's where ya belong, burning alongside yer failures. Ya know it. So stop fuckin' pretendin'."

"I—I'm not. I'm just—I want—"

Icnoyotl stepped closer—whether in reality or in Leo's mind, he couldn't be sure. He stepped back all the same and stopped breathing.

"Who gave ya permission to be happy?" the boy asked in his layered voice. "Ya shouldn't be doin' any of this. Ya'll just let these people down, too. Bet this boy is scared shitless, ya batty, fallen, son-of-a—"

"Leonardo!"

The world grew silent with a simple act. Five fingers squeezed Leonardo's bicep, and their familiarity reawakened the Amazon's humid heat. He was reminded of late nights talking, the Allum, Tetani paste spread with care, and kind sun-colored eyes—all in a split second that left him feeling like he had run a marathon. He struggled for air as his mind raced to catch up with reality and he glanced aside, where Coyolxauhqui stared up at him.

"Leo, cualli?" she whispered.

"Ye—yeah," he answered. He couldn't bring himself to face the children; their wonder-filled gazes that he sensed sank his stomach.

"Leo—"

"It's nothing, Coyo, really. I just—I—" The mutant tensed, mouth agape.

Why lie? Coyo knew how screwed up his mind was, but she smiled anyway. Like now. How could she do that, especially after what Zaddir insinuated happened to her over her lifetime? Did that mean he'd do the same one day? Maybe even beside her?

"Coyo tell boys Leo tired," the Chieftain said. She wrapped her arm around Leo's, although her short stature hardly counted as support. "Leo tell Coyo what wrong?"

Truthfully, the mutant didn't want to. But it would help, wouldn't it?

"We—we can talk," he answered.

"At Huelihca?"

Leo's tired eyes settled on Coyo when they passed the village gates. He nodded. The tree comforted him, and he would need as calm as possible to explain how the Chieftain might be his anchor.