The Bitter Taste Read Free Page A

the first time in a long time. She felt able.
    The bone was neither warm nor cold beneath
her fingertips.
    “Are you ready?” he asked, pulling her
against him. She moulded to the shape of his body.
    “Yes,” she whispered, and smiled as his
shroud flared out to surround and encapsulate her inside with
him.
     
    *
     
    Yau woke with the knowledge that life bloomed and
grew inside her. She could feel it, growing and waiting to be
born.
    She remembered everything. She could still
feel the bruises from where Tepil had gripped her arms. She could
feel the ache inside her from where the God of Death had poured his
essence into her and given it the spark that would create life.
    She swallowed and waited as fear, rage and
exhalation rampaged through her. She could feel the pull of the
dead even now. She longed to call them up from their rest just as
she had been instructed, and she longed to teach her child how to
do the same.
    She moved at last.
    “I was beginning to think you would not
wake,” Nan said, coming towards her with a small tray of foods.
“The sun is already high.”
    “I slept for so long,” Yau said.
    “And you look better for it. There is peace
in your eyes whereas before there was only rage and hurt.”
    “Why is there no sound of work from outside?”
Yau asked at last as she ate.
    Nan’s expression saddened.
    “Today Amoxtl is buried. We must go to bear
witness and usher his soul to the next world.”
    Yau winced at the pang in her chest.
    “And Tepil? Will the priests spare a prayer
for him?”
    She already knew the answer, but she could
not help asking the question.
    Nan looked away.
    “They cannot,” she said at last. “As much as
I wish they could, you know it is not our way. The gods’ always
demand a sacrifice for access to the underworld.”
    Yau said nothing, merely sipping at her
drink. Nan watched her, sympathy plastered all throughout her
expression.
    “I’m sorry, Yau,” she said at last. “I wish
it could be different.”
    She touched Yau’s knee, her touch lingering
for a moment before the she turned and went back to her herbs.
    Yau watched her for a few moments and then
placed her cup and plate down.
    “I’m going home,” she said at last.
    Nan spun round. “You can’t-” she gasped, “the
priests-”
    “I don’t care,” Yau snapped. “I cannot leave
my brother to wader alone.”
    “The grief must be too much for you, Yau. You
aren’t thinking properly!”
    “I’m thinking perfectly,” she said quietly.
“The god’s have taken enough from me. I will not let them deny my
brother also.”
    She left the hut, ignoring Nan calling after
her. She was aware of the people watching her, of their whispers as
she wrenched her home’s door open. She ignored them. She knew what
she needed to do.
    No fire for two days had left the hut cold
and uninviting. Yau left the door open to let the light in and made
her way to the ceremonial altar. She stared at the hideous faces
and felt her rage boil up again. She grabbed the knife and then,
using a large stone, smashed the receptacle from the wall and
defaced the holy depictions as best she could.
    She left the hut taking only the knife, a pot
of salt and a small pack of supplies. She had no doubt she would
never return here. In truth she had no intention to. Nan was her
only connection to a village that already avoided her and her
cursed family.
    She paused at the edge of the village to
watch the procession that followed Amoxtl’s shrouded body to the
burial ground. She nodded out of respect to him. He had been one of
the last to stick by her family, and for that she owed him.
    She turned her back as they lowered him into
the ground and began piling the dirt back over him. She had
preparations to make before the sun sank below the horizon.
     
    *
     
    The breeze came from the sea. It was cold and salty
and whipped around Yau as she sat watching the sun turn from
burnished orange to blood red. It was time.
    She stood and moved