13
“A gift is made more valuable by the longing,” the serpent told them in the time between. “That is the true gift.”
Yucatan Lowlands, Mexico
c. 600 B.C.E
“You are slow like a girl,” my brother, Ian, shouts as we run through the old gardens beginning to be overtaken by scraggly shrubs.
“I am a girl,” I reply and leap over a stack of stones used to make the garden beds. Picking up speed, brown legs pumping, I skim past my brother. “Who is slow?”
“Awk,” Ian exclaims, not willing to admit his defeat.
Aapo catches up, laughing hard at the comedy of watching brother and little sister compete. He says, “Akna is just a little mouse but her feet are swift.”
Aapo is three rainy seasons older than I, and one older than Ian. He has already acquired the prideful carriage of the ruling class.
