The horsemen wore red jackets with silver trim and epaulets, and long black pants—also with silver trim—pulled down over black boots. Their hats were tall and black, each with a tall red feather in the front. Their horses were small but very broad and muscular, with long, narrow heads; they were all black, not patterned or painted like the horses that Isabella had seen the Diheneh use. Isabella was not the only one to admire them.

“I like your horse!” Alijandra exclaimed, running towards the closest man, as he dismounted. 

“Ali!” Isabella yelled, grabbing her sister’s arm and pulling her back. Jack rose to his feet, eyes shifting between the girls and the horseman. “Mama says not to talk to strangers!” Isabella hissed in her sister’s ear. “You know that! What’s the matter with you?”

“I can’t help it,” Alijandra said. “I like their horses. What’s wrong with that?”

The horseman that Alijandra had called out to ignored her. Clutching his horse’s reins, he waited as one of his fellows dropped the bucket into the well and began to haul it up. Another horseman handed his reins to the man next to him and walked over to the girls. He took off his hat and crouched in front of them. He smiled. “So, you like horses, young lady?”

“Yes, sir,” Alijandra beamed. “And I think your hat is funny!”

“Well,” he replied, looking around, “if you can keep a secret, I think it’s funny, too. But it’s part of my uniform. I am Captain Juan Marteen Cortes Altamirano.” The townspeople—about thirty of them—began to trickle in to the square to see the visitors. “And you are?”

“I’m Isabella Anerson and this is my sister, Alijandra.”

“’Anerson’?” Captain Altamirano asked. “I’m not familiar with that name.”

“It’s Erisian,” Isabella replied. “That’s where our father is from.”

“Erisia is very far from here,” the captain said. “Even farther than Ysparria, where I live.”

“We’re from Ysparria, too,” Alijandra said. “But we live here, now.” She looked around. “If you can keep a secret, we’re princesses. Mama is, too. She’s from Ysparria, like us.”

“Ali, don’t tell stories,” Isabella said.

“I’m not telling stories!”

“Yes, she is,” Isabella said. “And she knows she’s not supposed to.”

“I understand, girls, I understand,” Captain Altamirano replied, smiling. “Anyone can see that you ladies are of noble birth—even if you are here, far from the court. But don’t worry: I’ll keep quiet.”

“Good day to you, sir,” Daon Raul said, appearing behind the girls. He was wearing his yellow tunic again and carrying his brass rod topped with the sun and moons medallion. “I am Daon Raul Sanche de Charas. Welcome to Scorpion Tail.”

“A pleasure to meet you,” Captain Altamirano replied, standing and bowing to the daon. He put his hat back on and introduced himself. “My men and I have stopped here to fill our water sacks and refresh our horses.”

“Aren’t their horses pretty?” Alijandra asked.

“Very,” Daon Raul agreed, patting her on the head. “It’s not often we have guests, Captain,” he noted, “and even less often when they’re soldiers of the Emperor. Is there some trouble?” 

“No, Daon, at least not here. We are on our way north and west, towards the coast.”

“That’s a very long way,” Daon Raul replied. “Through Uupohna lands, as well. The trouble you refer to must be significant.”

“Maybe,” Captain Altamirano said.

“What trouble?” Alijandra asked.

“Quiet, Ali,” Isabella said.

“Yet there’re only eight of you,” Daon Raul continued. “A scouting mission, I think? To learn more about what the trouble might be?”

“I’m not permitted to say,” the captain replied.

“Ali! Bella!” Mama called. She came out of the trading post and looked around, peering through the crowd of townspeople. 

“Over here, Mama!” Alijandra called. 

Mama slipped through the crowd and stepped between the girls and the captain. “What’s going on?” she demanded. 

“Merely passing through, Mrs. Anerson,” the captain replied.

“Why did you tell him our name?” Mama asked Isabella.

“I…He told us his.”

“Captain Juan Marteen Cortes Altamirano. Your daughters are delightful, Mrs. Anerson.”

“You—thank you, Captain. Come along, girls. I’m done.”

“Did you get Carmen?” Alijandra asked.

“Later, dear,” Mama replied. “Go.” The girls began picking their way through the crowd, towards Jack.  “I am sorry I was so brusque with you, Captain,” Mama said.

“It’s quiet alright. You were just concerned for your girls. I understand.”

“If you need any supplies,” Daon Raul suggested to the Captain, “you might find them at the trading post….” 

Mama and the girls did not hear the rest of their conversation. They were making their way to the smithy, Jack loping along behind them with the travois.

The smith was leaning in the doorway. “I do fix bracelet,” he said, holding it out to Mama.

She took it and looked closely at it for a few moments. “Very nice, Mr. Kolb. Thank you.” She reached into a pocket of her skirt, pulled out a small leather purse, and gave him two brass coins.

“Who they?” he asked, pointing to the horsemen.

“Soldiers from Ysparria,” Isabella said. 

“Mmm,” Kolb grunted. He pointed to Daon Raul. “Do not hear to him. Stupid head. Waste of time,” he smirked, pointing up. “No mother in sky. Only sun.”

“I did not come here to discuss religion Mr. Kolb,” Mama said. “and our business is finished. We’ll be leaving now.”

Their curiosity satisfied, most of the townspeople began drifting back to their homes. On their way out of Scorpion Tail, Mama and the girls passed by the abandoned mill, where the vultures still attended the shaggy dead thing lying nearby. 
 
 

They walked along through the high desert, past shrubs and bushes and scrawny trees with green bark and slender leaves. And cactuses, of course, but only the squat barrel cactuses and flat prickly pears and other, lesser varieties—the towering, many-armed saguaros only grew further south. The sun was hot and the green-barked trees gave little shade. Isabella found herself licking her own salty sweat off her top lip before the thirsty dry air could suck it up.

Mama went first, then Isabella, then Jack pulling the travois. Alijandra flittered amongst them, swinging her arms and chasing the dusty brown grasshoppers that leapt out of her way and bending down to pick tiny white wildflowers and then running to give them to her mother or her sister. All the while, she chattered about the tiny brown birds perched in the trees and about the faint wisps of clouds at the very top of the sky and about the shapes of the rocks they passed, and about many, many other things.

After about two hours of walking, they came to a stand of trees by a slow, shallow stream lined with smooth stones. They put down their things, took off their sandals, unhitched Jack, and waded in, drinking from the stream and splashing their faces and hair and arms.

“That feels much better,” Isabella said. “Are we stopping here for awhile, Mama?”

“Just for a few minutes,” Mama said. “We have to get home before dark or To-Ho-Ne will worry.” 

“Mama, can I have my doll?” Alijandra asked.

“Later, dear,” Mama replied. 

Mama sat on the bank, underneath the thin shade of the trees, her feet dangling in the water. Isabella picked her way through the stream, careful not to hurt her feet on the rocks. Alijandra stood next to Jack, scooping up handfuls of water and dumping them on his back as he lapped from the stream.

Isabella crouched and helped herself to another handful of water. It was warm, but clear and refreshing. “Bella, come here a moment,” Mama said. “Slowly and quietly, dear heart.”

“What is it, Mama?”

“You’ll see. Come sit next to me.”

Isabella came and sat down. Alijandra and Jack wandered downstream. “What is it, Mama?” Isabella asked.

“Just sit still and quiet for a little while,” Mama said, smiling. “You’ll feel something happen.”

Isabella sat. “Nothing’s happening,” she said.

“Keep still,” Mama told her. “Don’t make any noise.”

The older girl didn’t move and didn’t say anything. After a few moments, she felt something faintly tickle her ankle. The tickling grew and grew, spreading down her foot to her toes, until Isabella couldn’t keep from giggling. 

Alijandra and Jack came splooshing back into sight. “What is it?” her sister asked.

“It tickles!” the older girl laughed. 

“Hold still,” Mama reminded her.

“It tickles too much!”

“What?” Alijandra asked. 

“Little fish,” Mama said.

Isabella looked down. Dozens of tiny brown fish, each smaller and thinner than her little finger, were nibbling, very gently, on her feet. It didn’t hurt. She laughed and wiggled and shook her feet and the little fish scattered and came right back as soon as she held still again. 

“I want the fish to tickle me, too!” Alijandra exclaimed.

“Come here and sit by me,” Mama said, “and maybe they’ll nibble you, too.” 

Alijandra splashed over to her mother—chasing off the fish—and sat by here.

“Nothing’s happening,” Alijandra said.

“Wait. Wait.” 

The little girl sat still and looked down, watching the clear water rush past her feet.

“I see one! I see one!” she cried. The little brown fish darted away.

“You must stay quiet,” Mama told her.

“Ali will never stay quiet,” Isabella said, getting up and wading over to Jack. She scooped up some water and dribbled it onto his head.

“I can be quiet,” Alijandra replied, waggling her fingers at her sister as if shaking something loathsome off her hands.

“Mama, did you see what Ali did?” the older girl asked. 

“Alijandra, we do not make rude hand gestures as if we were commoners,” her mother said. 

“None of the fish are tickling me, Mama,” the little girl said. 

“You must hold still and be quiet, or you will scare them away.”

“I am holding still. I am being quiet.” 

“Not still and quiet enough,” Mama said. “Or maybe they just don’t like how you taste.”

They played in the stream for a while, longer than Mama meant to, splashing and chasing each other. Then they put their sandals back on, gathered their things, hitched up Jack, and crossed the stream, heading for home. 
 
 

They walked on for about three more hours, until they came over a low rise. The sun was slipping down behind them; the sky before them darkening to indigo and purple. Not far away—perhaps a few miles—was a squat butte, and near the base of it, the small house where they lived. 

“We’re almost there,” Mama said.

“Good,” Isabella replied. “My feet hurt.”

Mama glanced back at Alijandra, who was curled up on the travois, next to the big yucca string bag, letting Jack pull her along. 

“Still asleep,” Mama said. “It always amazes me how she sleeps through anything.”

“I told her not to go running around like an idiot,” Isabella said, “but she didn’t listen. Now Jack has to pull her along.”

“She’s just little,” Mama reminded her. “Don’t be so hard on her.” Mama kissed the top of Isabella’s head. “You were once that little, too—though you didn’t sleep nearly as soundly. Come on—let’s go.”

They heard their five sheep bleating long before they found them in the rapidly-dimming light. The sheep were milling about, with no one in sight. Mama frowned. “They should be in by now. Bella, unhitch Jack.” She cupped her hands to her mouth and shouted, “To-Ho-Ne! To-Ho-Ne!”

“I’m here, Princess!” called To-Ho-Ne, the old Diheneh woman. She waddled out of the shadows, long, white braid swinging behind her. “Girls, come help me,” she said, panting. “The sheep are being very bad. I can’t get them in the corral.”

“Bella and Jack and I will take care of the sheep,” Mama said. “Ali is sleeping. Take her inside,” she said. 

“Yes, Princess,” To-Ho-Ne said. Gently, she picked up Alijandra, who stirred for a moment but stayed asleep. “What a long way to go, there and back again, for such a little cub,” To-Ho-Ne murmured. 

Isabella finished unhitching Jack. He bounded after the sheep, circling, barking furiously. Mama and Isabella helped round them up, and in a few minutes, they were all in the round wooden pen by the side of the house.

“Good boy,” Isabella said, stroking Jack’s ears as he stood beside her. “Good boy.” He thumped his tail in agreement. “Wait out here and I’ll bring you supper, when it’s ready.”

Isabella helped her mother drag the travois to the door of the house. The house itself was small—only one floor, of course—and made from adobe. It had one door and two small windows in the front. Inside was a large room with a grey stone floor and a table and five chairs, made of pine. A kerosene lamp hung by a hook from a rafter. In one corner of the room was a black iron stove that burned wood for cooking and to heat the house at night. Next to it was a door into a small space, lined with shelves, where the family kept their food. 

In another corner, Alijandra was asleep on a woven straw mat, a dark-haired ragdoll—Caroleena—under her arm. “There you are,” To-Ho-Ne said, kissing Isabella. 

“And here is supper,” Mama said, opening the sting bag. She took out a small, smoked ham. “For tonight and tomorrow night, and probably several more after that.” 

“What else were you able to get?” To-Ho-Ne asked.

“These things,” Mama said. Two bags of cornmeal, a tin of salt, a small jar of kerosene, the tooth powder. She put each thing on the table.

“Did you get my storybook?” Isabella asked. “And Ali’s doll?”

“No, I couldn’t,” Mama said. “Just to get these things, I had to give that…hag Cornejo the wool and the clothes, and some money, too. I couldn’t get the book, or the doll. I’m sorry.”

“And your bracelet, Princess?” To-Ho-Ne asked.

“I managed to have that repaired, too.”

“Couldn’t we have spent that money on my book?” Isabella asked. 

“Mrs. Cornejo wanted a lot more than ten centavos for that book,” Mama replied. 

“What about the doll? Couldn’t you have gotten the doll for ten centavos?” Isabella asked. 

Mama put her hands on her hips. “Maybe I could have. Why do you ask?”

“Ali will be really upset when she wakes up and finds out that she doesn’t have that doll. She already named her, and she said she was going to have her be Caroleena’s friend.” 

“Isabella, I have my own reasons for having that bracelet fixed instead of buying Ali a doll—or you a storybook. First among them is that that bracelet was given to me by my father was I was your age. Do I need to give you the other reasons?” 

“No, ma’am,” Isabella replied.

“All right, then. Now please help To-Ho-Ne make supper.” 

There was a tin bucket hanging from a nail on the back of the door. Mama took the bucket and went outside to get water from the well. To-Ho-Ne stirred up the embers in the stove, then added twigs and dried grass. While she did that, Isabella went to the table and cut a few small slices from the ham. To-Ho-Ne hung up the rest of the ham in the larder, then brought out a yellow squash and a few small, red potatoes. 

Mama came back and poured the water she had drawn into several small, clay jars. Isabella washed the vegetables, making sure to only use a little water and to hold each vegetable over the bucket so as not to spill or drop anything on the table or floor. To-Ho-Ne fed the fire with larger pieces of wood. 

Alijandra stirred. Stretched. Opened her eyes. Rubbed them. Blinked. Stretched again. Sat up. 

“Hello, love,” Mama said. “Did you have a good nap?”

Alijandra looked around.

“Do you need to pass water?” Mama asked.

Alijandra nodded once. 

“I’ll take you,” Mama said. As Mama opened the door, Isabella noticed that it was now wholly dark outside. 

A few minutes later, they came back from the outhouse, where the latrine was. To-Ho-Ne opened her arms and the little girl threw herself into them, the old Diheneh woman scooping her up and kissing her. “To-Ho-Ne!” Alijandra cried, “we saw horses in town! There were horses!” 

“Were there?” To-Ho-Ne asked. “Tell me about them, little cub.”

Alijandra told her about the horses, and their riders, and the captain, as Isabella carefully cut the ham and vegetables into tiny pieces. As To-Ho-Ne heated up water for stew and added the ingredients that Isabella had cut up, Alijandra told her about the smith, and the trading post, and mean Mrs. Cornejo, and the fish that had nibbled her in the stream.

“They weren’t nibbling you,” Isabella reminded her. “They were nibbling me. You scared them away.”

“They were nibbling Bella,” Alijandra corrected herself. “But before that, we went to the priest, and he has lots of children, and none of the boys wore shirts. And his wife has this funny hand. And he put on a yellow shirt and he had this magic wand….”

It wasn’t long before the stew was ready; To-Ho-Ne served it to them in pottery bowls. The stew was thin, but hot. The ham was too salty for Isabella; she left her pieces for Jack. But she liked the soft, squishy pieces of squash, and when she had seconds, she tried to scoop up as many pieces as she could with the ladle. 

“And at the trading post,” Alijandra continued, “we saw all sorts of things. Bella found a picture book, and I found a doll. Mama, where is my doll?”

Oh no, Isabella thought. Here it comes. 

“I couldn’t buy the doll, Ali,” Mama said. “We didn’t have enough money.”

“Well, maybe we can get it next time,” Alijandra said. 

“Maybe,” Mama said.

She’s not upset, Isabella thought. For once.

“And there was this man there that Mama knows,” Alijandra said. “He’s one of your people, To-Ho-Ne.”

“Ahiga,” Mama added.

“I’ll go feed Jack, now,” Isabella said, getting up from the table. “Do we have anything else for him?”

“In the larder is an egg I took from the coop this morning,” To-Ho-Ne replied. “And there’s an old tomato. Give him those and let him go look for something outside.”

She went to the larder and got the egg and the shriveled tomato. She took these things and her bowl and went outside. The first moon—full and bathing the land with pale light—was coming up. The air was chilly already and the sheep were quiet. “Jack!” she called. “Here, boy!”

Something dark lying near the pen hauled itself to its feet and padded over to her, puffing as it came. “Here you are, boy,” Isabella said, as she squatted down in front of the big black dog. She put the bowl on the ground, dropped in the tomato, then cracked the egg and let it slop into the bowl. “I’m sorry there isn’t more,” she said. 

Jack sniffed his meal for a moment, then quickly lapped it up, tail wagging. 

“Was that good?” she asked, when he raised his head at last. His tail wagged faster as he licked the last bit off his snout. “To-Ho-Ne says you should go out looking for some food.” 

Jack looked over at the sheep, huddled together in their pen. Looked back at Isabella.

“It’s okay, boy. Go find some food. Go on. Just don’t be too long.”

Jack loped off into the darkness, tail swishing. 

Isabella rubbed her arms and looked up into the clear night sky, where the stars were scattered like salt grains across the endless blackness. It’s cold. Is Papa cold, too? No, I’m sure he has a campfire. He’s probably having supper right now. Wonder if he’s having stew, too. 

After a few minutes, the door opened and Mama came out. “To-Ho-Ne is heating up water for your bath,” she told Isabella. “Why don’t you come in and get ready?”

“I was watching the sheep until Jack comes back.”

“I can do that for you,” she said. 

“It’s cold, Mama.”

“I’ll get my shawl. Come in. Don’t forget to scrub your teeth.” 

“Yes, Mama.” 
 
 

The girls took turns quickly bathing in a big tin tub that they also used to wash clothes. The tub itself was just big enough for Alijandra to sit in, but Isabella had to stand, scrubbing herself with soap To-Ho-Ne had made from animal fat and yucca root.

When they had finished, they dried themselves and dressed in their nightgowns. To-Ho-Ne brushed and braided their hair, and the girls settled onto their sleeping mat in the corner of the room. Alijandra tucked Caroleena under her arm. To-Ho-Ne pulled a large blanket, with thick stripes of red and black and orange, over them. 

“I don’t think I can sleep,” Alijandra said. “Can Bella and I have talk time?” 

“I think—” began the old woman, but just then, the door opened and Mama came back inside, clutching her shawl.

“I thought that fool dog was never going to come back,” she said, rubbing her arms.

“I have more coffee for you, Princess,” To-Ho-Ne said. “The girls would like some time to talk before going to sleep.”

“Of course,” Mama said. “But not too long, alright?” Both girls nodded.

“Mama, do you think Papa has found any dragons yet?” Alijandra asked.

“I don’t know,” Mama said. “I was hoping there would be a letter from him at the trading post, but there wasn’t.”

“Maybe there was, but Mrs. Cornejo didn’t give it to you, just to spite you,” Isabella scowled.

“I tried to see if she had one, but the only letters I saw were for other people. They were opened, of course,” Mama frowned. “Ah, well. Good night.”

“Good night,” the girls replied, together.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” Mama said.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” they repeated.

“I’ll see you in my dreams.”

“I’ll see you in my dreams.”

“I’ll see you when the sun comes up.”

“I’ll see you when the sun comes up.”

“I love you.”

“I love you.”

“What shall we dream about?” Mama asked.

“All the things we did today,” the girls answered.

“Especially what?”

“The whole day,” Alijandra said. 

“I’m going to dream about Papa finding a dragon and coming home with a lot of money.”

“I’d like that, too,” Mama said. “Sleep well, girls.”

“Your coffee, Princess,” To-Ho-Ne said, giving Mama a bowl. The two women sat at the table and began to speak quietly in the Diheneh language.

“I told you we were princesses,” Alijandra whispered.

“What makes you say that?” Isabella whispered back.

“To-Ho-Ne calls Mama ‘Princess.’ And if she is a princess, then we must be, too.”

“What are you blabbering about?”

“Today, when we met the horsemen, and that nice man with the funny hat, I told him we were princesses, and you said we weren’t.”

“We aren’t princesses. Princesses live in palaces, not…not here.”

“So why does To-Ho-Ne call Mama ‘Princess,’ then?”

“Because To-Ho-Ne loves her,” Isabella replied. “She calls you ‘little cub,’ but you aren’t a real bear, are you?”

Alijandra pondered that for a moment. Then, “Why couldn’t Mama get my doll?”

“She told you that.”

“I forgot.”

“That’s because you never listen. Mama didn’t have enough money. She used it all fixing the bracelet that you broke.”

“I didn’t mean to break it. I was just—”

“’—trying it on because it looked pretty,’” Isabella finished for her. “Yes, I know. You keep saying that. But you broke it.”

“And you keep reminding me that I broke it. You act like I broke your bracelet,” Alijandra hissed. 

“Not so loud, or Mama will make us go to sleep.”

Neither girl said anything for a while.

“I wish you had that book,” Alijandra whispered. “If you did, you could read me a story right now.”

“Yes,” Isabella whispered back, looking up at the ceiling. “I wish we had that book, too.”

“What was it about?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, what do you think it was about?”

Isabella thought for a moment. “There was one picture I keep thinking about. It was a big jungle. The trees were tall—they went all the way from the bottom of the page to the top. And the leaves on the trees were dark green, almost black, and the leaves went all the way from one side of the page to the other. And under the trees were all kinds of bushes and things. Jumping out of the bushes were these…creatures that looked like big lizards, except they walked on two legs and they had claws and swords and they were purple. Really bright purple. And they were surrounding this princess.”

“How did you know she was a princess?”

“Because she had a long golden gown on, and she wore a gold crown. That’s what princesses—real princesses—wear.”

“Was she afraid of them? The lizard things?”

“No,” Isabella replied, shaking her head. “She wasn’t afraid. At least, she didn’t look like it in the picture.”

“I guess real princesses aren’t ever afraid,” Alijandra said, softly.

“I guess not.”

Neither girl said anything for a while. 

“When Papa gets back, do you think we could go back to town and get the book?” Alijandra asked, still whispering.

“I suppose,” Isabella replied. “If he catches a dragon. But To-Ho-Ne says there aren’t any dragons around anymore. At least, no wild ones.”

“I never heard her say that. When did she tell you that?”

“When Papa left. I don’t think she was supposed to tell me that, but she did. I’m probably not supposed to tell you, so don’t say anything, all right? Or else you might upset Mama.”

“All right,” Alijandra said. “So he might not find one?”

“No.”

“And then we won’t get the book? Or my doll?” 

“I suppose not.”

“I hope he finds one.”

“Me, too. But it’s been a long time since Papa caught one. Years. You were just a baby.”

“All right, girls, that’s been long enough,” their mother said. “Please go to sleep.”

“Yes, Mama,” Isabella said.

“Yes, Mama,” Alijandra said.

The girls closed her eyes, and soon, Alijandra was asleep, cuddled up with her doll. Isabella couldn’t sleep. She kept thinking about the storybook. 

Her mother and To-Ho-Ne were still talking softly in the Diheneh language. After a while, Isabella heard one chair scrape against the floor as someone got up. She opened her eyes a crack and peered through her lashes. Mama went to the larder and came back with a small clay pot. She sat down again and scooped out a handful of coins from the pot. She and To-Ho-Ne spread out the money on the table and counted it. And then they started talking again.

Isabella closed her eyes. If Papa finds a dragon, and catches it, and tames it, and sells it, she thought, then we could get my storybook. And Ali’s doll. And maybe a prettier bracelet for Mama. And nicer food. And more sheep. And maybe build bedrooms for each of us. 

Or maybe we could move to town and live in a proper house. 

Or maybe…maybe we could go back to Ysparria. 

Maybe we could be princesses again. Like we’re supposed to be.
 
 

Outside, Jack lay in the dust, watching, as the sheep slept in the pen. Both moons were up now, full and white and cold.

Far away, a dragon found the girls’ father. 
 
 

© Kenton Kilgore, February 2007