“I’m going to live here forever,” Buti promised enthusiastically as his total concentration became a shelling of peanuts. He filled his mouth until he could hold no more. Every so often, he would hand some shelled peanuts to Lupita, who had taken a blanket and spread it out on the ground. She was lying on her stomach looking out with fascination at the piece of sky visible and blue from the funnel opening. The ground in the cave was covered with leaves that had blown in. The cave was full of a splendid shadowy silence. Sabochi was finishing some wooden animals he had made for them while Trini watched the deft, swift movements of his gentle hands working with the wood. His profile against light and shadow aroused strange new feelings in Trini, a tenderness that suffocated. Again the restlessness. Trini stood looking at the light coming through the funnel. She climbed the granite steps leading out of the caracol, feeling a need to be alone. Glorious dragonflies swarmed the thinning sun as Trini sat outside and looked at a wet world. The funnel’s mouth led up to the side of the hill along terraced milpas that rose in linear symmetry. Around the hill was the dark ravine where the sound of water grew as if from a river of great depth. She felt strange new magical feelings. Sabochi called out:
“Pollitos, ready!”
Trini went back into the cave where Sabochi held the wooden animals on his lap. He handed each of them one, a horse, a snail, and a turtle, all with sleepy eyes.
“They look like Buti,” laughed Lupita.
Solemnly, each accepted an animal and kissed Sabochi for his gift. The new feelings brightened in Trini as her lips lingered on his cheek. How feelings swim into one another! She wanted to hear the honey of his voice, the wisdom of his world.
“Tell us about the universe,” Trini asked softly. She was the child again, full of wonder. Sabochi’s voice, like surging gentle air, made nature gods quite real, and all distant things came near. She wanted him to speak of the wild wind, the one that woke the trees and made its path along the deep ravines and hillsides, the one that spoke to her at night. “Tell us about the wild wind.”
“Gods speak through the wind. They speak of freedom, change, timelessness. They tell us to touch things lightly as the wind does.”
“The wind howls and whips everything. It scares me,” Buti complained. Sabochi nodded.
“There are times when the wind gathers in violence,” Sabochi agreed. “It balances the wind’s dancing touch.”
“The wind hugs me sometimes.” Trini’s eyes were dark with excitement. “Sometimes the wind grows inside me.”
“It grows inside,” Sabochi nodded. “A feeling with things to be, not things gone.”
“Is that a riddle?” Lupita asked. “I don’t understand.”
“Hush!” admonished Trini. She understood Sabochi’s words, for she felt the words as she sometimes felt the wind’s gentle touch.
“The wind moves without feeling.” Sabochi spoke the words as if they were just for her. But she questioned silently. Move without feeling? She felt a stab of sadness as she stated, more than asked, “You’re not coming back, are you?”
“I’m the ahau of Cusihuiriachi now, pollito. It is my father’s turn to roam. We have exchanged places.” He said it softly, urgently.
Trini wanted to throw her arms around him, to keep him from leaving her. Instead, the child in her made her lean her head against his chest to feel his warm safety.
“What shall I do without you, Sabochi?”
“Live!” Sabochi laughed.
“The wind doesn’t feel, but I do.” The plea fell from Trini’s lips, half-caught in a sob. There was a need for silence as the gloom of early evening spread. With the darkness growing in the cave, Sabochi said, “It is time to go home.”
“Are you coming home with us?” Buti asked.
“No.” Sabochi’s voice was final, wistful. “I have things to do before tomorrow. I shall come get you tomorrow morning. We shall all climb the hill to El Camino Real.”
We shall walk with him for the last time, the last time, thought Trini. It was so hard to accept. Buti pulled at her hilpa. “I wanna stay here with Sabochi.”
So do I! So do I! her heart said, but she spoke in a grown-up, practical tone, “No, we must get home before dark.” Sabochi walked with them to the path that led down to the valley. Trini took Buti and Lupita by the hand, leading the way down the winding way worn by sheep tracks, turned red by a setting sun. Buti was persistent.
“Why can’t I live in the cave by myself?” He suddenly sat down on the ground, refusing to budge. “The cave will be lonely,” he insisted, his voice beginning to break.
“It won’t be alone,” coaxed Trini. “El Enano will probably come live in it. That’s what Sabochi told us, remember?” She was trying to pull him up off the ground. He still did not move.
“You’re a baby,” accused Lupita, threatening in the same breath, “We’re going to leave you here in the dark.” She tried to push him. He sat still, refusing to move. Lupita warned, “El Enano won’t come live in the cave if you don’t mind Trini.”
“He will too, won’t he, Trini?” Buti asked Trini, half-convinced.
“Might not.”
“Why did Sabochi say he would?”
“He was supposing.”
“Is that like lying?”
“Of course not,” Trini explained. “It’s like wishing.” She pulled at the reluctant Buti one more time. Everybody knew what wishing was. Buti got up, apparently convinced.
Scattered carpets of violets happened along the descent until they came to the cauterized palos verdes, already budding, clustered along the path leading to the valley. At the bottom of the hill, they followed the willow trees, still bare. Buti, tireless, rolled himself down a slope, ran up again, then rolled down, again and again. A sadness still hung over Trini; they would say “goodbye” to Sabochi in the morning.
* * *
Isidoro was to meet Sabochi in Quirare to escort the new ahau back to his people. It was tradition among the Tarahumaras. Still, to Trini, the thought of the world without Sabochi was dark and ominous like the breaking storm that threatened. They were standing on the edge of the path that broke into the Camino Real. The air was scented with the coming rain. Such a smell had always filled Trini with a luminous excitement. But not today. She was solely aware of the thunder and the darkening sky. Sabochi sensed her mood.
“I will come back, pollito.”
She did not answer, but listened for a while to his sure steps beside her. Tears came, slowly at first. She looked straight ahead at the haze of heavy clouds in the sky. There was another clap of thunder. With the instinct of a child, she reached for the nearness of Sabochi. He brought her quickly to his side. The clouds were hastening in the sky, covering the sun. Sabochi’s voice broke softly into her ear. “The storm is just beyond the hill.”
He