Chapter Eight: Smoke on the Horizon
1750 Words
The sun hadn’t even fully risen when they hit I-96 west, but the light cutting through the dirty windshield was already harsh enough to make Waiya squint. Detroit’s skyline was shrinking behind them—towers fading into shadows, noise replaced by long, flat stretches of cracked road and overgrown brush.
Justin drove like a man who knew how to run from things.
Waiya sat sideways in the passenger seat, legs curled up, hoodie sleeves pulled over her hands. Her fingers traced the edge of her scar like she was trying to puzzle out what was left of herself.
“Say somethin’ before you burn a hole in the dashboard,” Justin said, not taking his eyes off the road.
“You drive like you got warrants.”
He smirked. “I do.”
Waiya rolled her eyes, but the corner of her mouth curved just slightly. “This is the first time I’ve ever willingly left the city for magic. That Grove better not try to stick pine needles in my ear or chant over my kneecaps.”
“They might,” Justin said. “But they’ll also know what that scar is. And maybe how to shut it down before it starts calling somethin’ worse.”
Her phone buzzed, and she glanced down.
Nyla
She sighed and answered on speaker. “Yá’át’ééh, little troublemaker.”
“Yá’át’ééh,” came the cheerful voice on the other end. “You forgot it’s our full moon call-in?”
Waiya rubbed her temple. “s**t. I’ve been… busy.”
“Uh-huh. Don’t tell me you’re out there barefoot on the east side again lighting dollar store candles.”
“I got shoes on this time.”
Justin chuckled low beside her.
“Who’s that?” Nyla asked sharply.
“None of your business.”
“Oooh, it is my business if you’re out driving with some mystery man and dodging our check-ins.”
“Just someone helping me with a spiritual issue. That’s all.”
“Mmm.” Nyla was silent a beat. “Lily says you’ve been off lately. You okay, Waiya?”
Waiya hesitated.
Justin didn’t say anything, but she felt his glance. That quiet kind of presence. Steady.
“I’m managing,” she said finally. “You know I ain’t soft.”
“We know you’re stubborn,” Nyla replied. “Which is different.”
Waiya smiled despite herself. “Hólǫ́—it’s true.”
“Well, hólǫ́ or not, you don’t have to do all this alone. Lily’s been asking about you. You should come visit after the moon changes.”
“I might. If I make it back from the woods alive.”
“…Wait, are you going to the Grove?”
Waiya raised an eyebrow. “How’d you know?”
“Because you only get reckless when you’re scared. And only the Grove makes you that mad-scared.”
Waiya exhaled slowly. “Tell Lily I’m okay. I’ll check in tonight if we get signal.”
“Okay,” Nyla said softly. “Watch your six. And… if whatever’s following you tries anything? Remind it why we’re descended from warriors.”
“Áhoo’,” Waiya said.
Nyla hung up.
Waiya sat in silence for a moment.
Justin finally spoke. “Your sister got a mouth on her.”
“She’s always been loud. That’s how middle kids stay relevant.”
He snorted. “And you?”
“I’m the baby. Which means I’m everyone’s business.”
“That explains the attitude.”
Waiya grinned, this time full and wicked. “Attitude is earned.”
Justin glanced her way. “So is trust.”
She didn’t look away. “Then earn it.”
They drove on, quiet settling between them again—but it was a different kind of quiet now. Not stiff or uncertain. Something warmer. Thicker. Like old honey or a low drumbeat.
Outside, the trees were getting taller, the road narrower. Civilization was falling away.
But inside that car, something was growing.
And the Grove was getting closer.
The trees thickened like a wall of green secrets, their branches whispering stories Waiya couldn’t quite hear yet. Justin’s old Charger rumbled down the two-lane backroad, headlights slicing through the morning mist. The energy here felt different — not hostile, just…watchful.
Waiya leaned back in the seat, her hoodie tugged up around her neck. The engine’s hum and the faint clatter of charms on Justin’s rearview mirror filled the silence.
She’d been quiet for miles.
Justin glanced over at her. “You gonna keep countin’ trees, or you finally gonna tell me what you’re thinkin’?”
“I’m not countin’ trees,” she muttered, even though she kind of was. “Just feeling the shift. You don’t feel that?”
He nodded slowly. “Yeah. The Grove don’t like visitors. But they’ll tolerate us.”
She side-eyed him. “Because they ‘owe you a favor,’ right?”
His smirk was lazy. “That, and they like my cooking.”
Waiya snorted, shaking her head. “So that’s your secret weapon? Collard greens and charm magic?”
“Nah,” he said, eyes still on the road. “That’s just foreplay.”
Waiya choked on her laugh, looking out the window to hide the way her lips curled. “You’re ridiculous.”
“But I ain’t wrong.”
Her phone buzzed before she could clap back. She checked the screen, expecting another threat or maybe Nyla again. But it was Lily this time — her oldest sister.
She hesitated. Then answered. “Yá’át’ééh, Lily.”
Lily’s voice came through steady and sharp, like it always did. “Yá’át’ééh, baby sis. You alright?”
Waiya hesitated, glancing at Justin. “T’áá’ íiyisí,” she lied.
Just a little.
Lily didn’t buy it. “That’s ‘just a little’ in your voice, not your soul.”
Waiya sighed, switching to English. “I’m handling it.”
“What happened?”
There was silence as the trees blurred past. “Someone sent a spirit. It knew my name.”
The pause on the other end was tight. “Waiya…”
“I’m okay. I’m with someone who can help. We’re heading to the Grove.”
A beat of silence again, then Lily said softly, “You’re going back to the pines?”
“Yeah.”
Lily’s voice dropped low. “Be careful. That place remembers blood. And yours still smells like fire.”
Waiya closed her eyes for a second. “I know.”
Justin tapped her knee gently, not interrupting, just letting her know he was still tuned in.
Lily’s voice came softer. “Niyol nihíji’ígíí da — the wind is on your back. That’s something.”
Waiya smiled faintly. “Ahéhee’. I’ll call when I can.”
“You better. Otherwise I’m dragging Nyla with me and we’ll burn the whole forest down to find you.”
“Lily—”
“I mean it.”
Waiya laughed, a real one this time. “You’d bring marshmallows.”
“And your favorite hoodie.”
The call ended with a shared “Ahéhee’,” and the line clicked off. Waiya sat for a moment, letting the warmth of her sister’s voice linger in her chest before sliding the phone into her pocket.
Justin raised an eyebrow. “She sound like the type that’d gut me if I sneeze wrong.”
“She wouldn’t gut you,” Waiya said. “But she’d definitely hex your truck.”
“That explains why it keeps pulling to the right,” he muttered.
She smirked, and for the first time since they left the city, the air between them softened.
“I like hearing you laugh,” he said.
Waiya didn’t look at him, but she didn’t hide her smile either. “It’s rare.”
“I noticed. But it suits you.”
She rolled her eyes. “You always flirt this much when you’re driving toward ancient judgmental forest spirits?”
“Only with women who could set me on fire with a thought,” he replied easily.
She chuckled, finally turning to him. “Flattery won’t keep them from reading your soul.”
“I’m not worried about my soul.”
She leaned back again, eyes on the trees. “You should be. These woods remember everything.”
They lapsed into silence again, but it was less heavy now. More like an old rhythm settling between them.
Waiya tugged at the sleeve of her hoodie, exposing one of her tattoos — a black band of protective glyphs running along her forearm.
Justin glanced down. “That Diné?”
She nodded. “Nana marked me when I was fourteen. Said I was too headstrong not to carry protection.”
Justin’s fingers tightened on the wheel. “She was right.”
Waiya arched a brow. “You scared of headstrong women now?”
“I’m scared of underestimating them,” he said. “That’s how men end up cursed with a frog’s voice and itchy dreams.”
She snorted. “Sounds like you speak from experience.”
“Let’s just say… I once dated a girl who worked at Botanica and had anger issues.”
Waiya laughed again — low and real — and for a second, it felt like they weren’t heading toward something ancient and dangerous. Just two people on a road trip.
But that illusion cracked the moment the trees swallowed them whole.
The forest thickened like it was closing around them. The paved road turned to gravel, then to dirt, then to something older still — a path only remembered by roots and ritual.
Justin slowed the Charger, then stopped.
“This is where we walk,” he said.
Waiya stared out at the thick woods ahead. Mist curled like breath between trunks. The pines loomed tall and unbending.
She opened the door and stepped out. Her boots hit the earth with a dull thud. Instantly, she felt it — the pull. Like something deep underground had opened one eye and noticed her arrival.
Justin joined her, sling bag over his shoulder, obsidian tucked inside.
“You good?” he asked.
Waiya took one long breath, eyes on the path. “Yeah. Just remembering who I used to be.”
He nodded. “Good. But don’t forget who you are now.”
They stood like that for a moment — quiet, braced, side by side in the shadow of old trees.
Then, together, they stepped into the forest.
- Writer
