Her long fingers wipe the tears from my face and I glance up. Those mismatched eyes watch me. Still serious and unafraid, but something else now too.
She rocks back on her bare heels and stands. She reaches out a hand to help me up, but I ignore it and stand on my own. I clear my throat, look at my hands, look at the ground where her people lie, look anywhere but at her. I’m tired, embarrassed, and relieved.
“You survived,” she says. “And you’re free.”
She places stones on a mound she calls a cairn. Stretching her hands to either side, she tilts her head back and chants something that sounds like a prayer. And yeah, I think. That’s the right thing to do when people die. That’s what I never gave my mother.
Appei's face fills my memory as I try to remember how to do it. Facing east, I recite the prayers from my childhood. When I kneel, I pray for Kominsky, for Rajani. I pray for Appei. And then, I pray for Ami.
I talk to the heavens for a long time before I stand. Our eyes meet. She knows me.
She smiles and takes my hand. “Ready?”
“For what?”
“I’m going to the ocean. Or have you got other plans?”
We leave her people and my past in the boneyard. All my guilt and untruths lie buried there now. She’s left something behind too. She’ll tell me when she’s ready. It’s a long walk to the shallows.