A Million Shades of Gray (16 page)

Y'Juen's father walked alongside Y'Tin until the camp was nearly out of sight. “Travel safely,” Y'Juen's father said.

“Bye, Uncle.”

Y'Tin took the path of least resistance, as Y'Juen probably would have. He concentrated on staying
alert, to make sure to see, hear, or even feel anything unusual. The effort was exhausting.

It wasn't until midday that he spotted Y'Juen's tracks, not going north but south, returning to camp. That meant Y'Juen had already delivered his message and had somehow gotten waylaid on the way back. Y'Tin felt a moment of anger toward Y'Juen, and then he felt guilty for feeling that.

Y'Juen's footprints were easy to recognize because the sole of one of his shoes had a hole. But Y'Tin saw prints only when Y'Juen had stepped on bare ground, and most of the jungle floor was covered with vegetation.

Still, now that he knew the direction Y'Juen had been walking in, he was able to follow the trail even when there were few prints. When the tracks did show up, the footprints often lined up one next to the other, meaning that Y'Juen had paused over and over. If he hadn't paused, the tracks would be one after the other, not side by side. He searched for blood in the tracks but didn't see any. Instead of anger, he now felt worry. Y'Juen was either sick, injured, or exhausted. Or maybe all three.

Y'Tin drank from his canteen and continued his journey. It was late in the afternoon when he
spotted a body in the distance and knew immediately that it was Y'Juen. Y'Tin cried out at the sight, ran closer, and touched the body: warm. His heart leaped as he felt the warmth. He would not wish any Rhade dead, whether it was a friend or not.

Y'Juen lay facedown. Y'Tin tapped his back. “Y'Juen? Y'Juen!” But Y'Juen didn't respond. Y'Tin flashed on how Y'Juen's mother had sobbed and sobbed. He felt a pulse on the wrist and wondered what to do next. If it were a hurt elephant, he would search first for the wound that must be there. He didn't see anything on Y'Juen's back, and he didn't think it was a good idea to turn over the body … the person … Y'Juen.

But if it were an elephant, he would turn over the body if only he could. Anyway, Y'Tin was going to have to move Y'Juen to get him back to camp; that is, unless he determined that it was better to go get help. But he didn't have the slightest idea how he would make such a determination.

There might be some blood that he needed to stanch the flow of. That settled it; he would turn over the body. He did so as gently as he could and saw the wound: a bruise on Y'Juen's forehead that formed a circle almost as wide as a fist. Y'Tin's hands
began to shake at the sight of the wound. He looked around and noticed signs of a fight: injured plants … broken twigs … a second set of footprints. He felt his heart pounding. It felt like his chest was heaving inside and out. Now he knew why Y'Juen had been pausing so much: He was being tracked and needed to freeze when he heard his tracker. But the tracker had finally caught up with him… . Panic was rising in Y'Tin, and he didn't know what to do about it.

There was some daylight left. Not a lot, but enough to go a short way. No need to go get help—the only justification for that would be if there seemed to be broken bones, like, say, a broken back. But Y'Tin trusted that he would not aggravate a head wound by picking Y'Juen up. He grunted with the effort of hauling Y'Juen onto his shoulders.
Unh!
He weighed more than he looked like he would.

Y'Tin struggled with every step. When he'd gone on that mission with his father and Shepard, Shepard had carried Ama's friend without any apparent effort except for the sweat that had broken out on his forehead. If Shepard could carry a man, then Y'Tin could surely carry a boy. But Y'Juen was so heavy.

With each step, Y'Tin wondered whether he was capable of taking another. He had never thought it
would come to this—Y'Juen's life depending on him. It was too much responsibility! He walked until the sun set. He considered walking farther, even in the darkness, in what he thought was the right direction. He was very tempted to try, but he knew that if he went in the wrong direction, that would mean he would get Y'Juen back to camp even later. And maybe not just later, but too late. So he stopped. He meant to lower Y'Juen gently to the ground, but he accidentally thumped him down. That made him feel thoroughly incompetent. Again he wondered whether it would be better to go for help, and again he rejected the idea. “I'm sorry I dropped you. I'm doing my best,” he mumbled, and was surprised when Y'Juen answered.

“What?” Y'Juen said. “What?”

“Y'Juen, it's Y'Tin!” But Y'Juen didn't say more. Y'Tin wrapped his poncho around Y'Juen and then lay on the ground next to him, on top of those succulents that covered much of the jungle floor. His teeth chattered in the cool night. How had life come to this? How?

He remembered the way he and Y'Juen used to play together. Y'Tin could run and kick harder, but Y'Juen could kick more accurately. The earliest memory
he could recall dated back to age four, but his mother had told him they'd been friends since they first started walking. Then Y'Tin thought about just a week and a half ago, when Y'Juen had insulted Ama. He hadn't thought he would ever forgive Y'Juen. But there, right there on the jungle floor, he forgave him. He could not blame Y'Juen for looking up to the older boys. That is, he
could
blame Y'Juen, but what would that get him?

And Y'Tin remembered again his father's adage: The jungle changes a man. Ama had been trying to explain to Y'Tin why people needed houses instead of just living in the bush. Y'Tin didn't see what difference it would make. After all, he slept every night in his hutch, which was more like a tent than a house. But Ama had explained that people acted different in the jungle—without houses, villagers became less civilized. “Even your hutch preserves your civility,” his father had said. Y'Tin was always impressed when his father got philosophical that way. In short, Y'Juen, Tomas, and even Y'Tin had changed when they were in the jungle together.

“What?” Y'Juen said again. “What?”

Y'Tin didn't answer, just stared into the darkness, worrying about his best friend.

In the morning Y'Juen seemed to have gained weight. Y'Tin's neck and back ached like crazy, but he kept going anyway. He made slow progress, and it got slower the closer he got to camp. War was so much more tiring than daily life. He knew his father might find that thought naive of him, but Y'Tin had not realized just what war consisted of. War was exhausting. These last few weeks had depleted all of Y'Tin's reserves. He did not think he would be good for anything when he got back, least of all becoming a messenger. He felt irate at the thought of the commander giving him a job as soon as he got back. If the commander tried that, Y'Tin would have to tell him no. That was all there was to it.

When he finally reached the soldiers' camp, he set Y'Juen down, again harder than he meant to. Ama was already running toward him. He saw a number of men looking at the body, but they seemed hardened, uncaring.

Instead of saying hello when his father arrived, Y'Tin said, “He's alive. But his breathing is uneven. He—”

“Let me get his father,” Ama interrupted. “Go tell his mother.”

“But who will take care of him?”

“We have a doctor from another village. Now go.”

Y'Tin ran off. Without Y'Juen on his shoulders, he felt free and light. It seemed like only half an hour before he reached the women's camp. He went straight to where H'Juaih was sitting with Y'Juen's mother, comforting her. Y'Juen's mother looked up at him with fear in her eyes.

“He's alive,” Y'Tin said. He opened his mouth to say more but couldn't think of what else he wanted to say.

Her face was a mix of terror and joy as she jumped to her feet and set off toward the men's camp.

After that Y'Tin wanted to be a hunter for the village, not a messenger. He did not want anyone carrying him on their shoulders. Plus, if he was successful, he could provide meat for the men and help steer the commander away from the idea of eating the elephants. If only he knew how to use a gun.

He went to see his mother, who was now sitting with H'Juaih. Jujubee was laughing with one of the other young girls. Y'Tin tried to remember the last time he saw someone laughing, but he couldn't.

Ami hugged him and rubbed at his face again. She had never done that before the village takeover, but now she was doing it regularly. “One of the soldiers found some rice in an abandoned village. Have some.”

She dipped a cup made from bamboo into a pot and came up with steaming rice. Y'Tin gobbled it down. He hadn't eaten rice since he was digging that hole in the cemetery. After that thought, the rice tasted less good, but he ate it just the same.

He ate several cups of rice and then lay down to nap. Sleeping after a meal of rice was probably as good as it got during a wartime.

“Are you going to tell him?” H'Juaih asked Ami.

Y'Tin didn't know what that meant, but he knew it wasn't good. And he knew the last thing he felt like hearing was something that wasn't good. But he looked at his mother and asked, “What?”

“The commander has decided to take the elephants tomorrow for the soldiers to eat.”

Y'Tin suddenly didn't feel tired anymore. He told his mother that he was going hunting right that second. He picked up his crossbow. “I'll need to catch something big,” he said. He thought that, if necessary, he would take down a wild elephant to save Dok and Geng. He didn't know if he could do that with a crossbow, but he would worry about that later.

“Y'Tin, the commander has already decided,” H'Juaih said.

“Then I'll have to change his mind. I need to hurry. I have to get something big before tomorrow.” Some thoughts flashed in his head. For one thing, he wondered why the people from his village weren't protesting this idea of eating the elephants—
their
elephants. For another thing, he wondered if he could hunt now. He hadn't gotten much sleep or rest in a couple of days, and he wasn't sure he could even
stay awake. But he had to save Dok and Geng.

H'Juaih stared disbelievingly at him. “You just got back!”

“I have to do this,” he said. He thought of what his father had said about crossing a line. He had crossed a line years ago when he had decided he wanted to work with elephants someday. Because of crossing that line, he now had to
kill
an elephant. It didn't make sense, but there it was.

He spotted Ama running toward them and thought,
What now?
He stood up to greet him, not really wanting to hear what his father was going to say.

But when his father reached them, Ama laid a hand on Y'Tin's shoulder and said, “It's Y'Juen. He's all right. He woke up. He's talking. I just wanted to let you know.”

“Ama,” Y'Tin said, and laid his head on his father's shoulder.

He stayed like that for several minutes, until his father said gently, “I need to get back to the other camp. But Y'Juen's mother wanted me to thank you. She would do anything for you now.”

“She doesn't have to do anything at all.”

Ama caressed Ami's face, as he often did in parting,
and then headed back, Jujubee walking with him to the edge of camp. Y'Tin watched, wanting to go hunting but also wanting to stay and rest.

“I may be gone overnight,” Y'Tin told his mother. “Don't worry about me.”

“Y'Tin. Y'Tin, you just got back.”

“I don't want to do this, but I have to.”

He set off and walked through the jungle for a couple of hours. He picked a spot near a river where animals might come to drink. The branches in the trees were so high up, there was nowhere for him to climb. Instead, he lay in the heavy bush. He knew he might have a long wait—he'd probably spooked any animals around with his human scent. On the bright side, he was situated between where an animal might approach and the river, and he was upwind. He waited with his crossbow. Hunting was a lot about waiting.

The more silent he was, the more still he was, the more alive he felt. He didn't let his mind wander, just aimed every part of his insides and outsides at that pathway. When it began raining, he thought about giving up. He was sick and tired of everything going against him. But he wasn't going to give up. This was too important.

The rain fell harder and harder through the foliage. Trying to stay optimistic, he thought about how the rain would mask his scent as well as any noise he might make. So he waited. Once, he had waited in a tree for five hours and gave up only because it was getting dark.

The only problem was that he was getting awfully itchy. It was all in his head—it happened to him quite a bit. It happened when he was hunting, and it happened in school. Monsieur Thorat would be talking on and on, looking directly at the class, and Y'Tin would grow itchier and itchier.

He moved just his toes, thinking maybe a little movement would somehow make the itchiness go away. Even his scalp felt itchy. Monsieur Thorat always told him to concentrate on
not
being itchy. So now he took a big breath and told himself, “You are not itchy. You are not itchy.” But focusing his attention on the itchiness just made it worse. He was so itchy, he wanted to scream. He decided to focus on how good it would feel when he was finally able to scratch.

Y'Tin was so soaked, he worried that his fingers might slip off the bow, and he was so itchy, he wanted to scratch himself bloody. But he had a sense
that an animal would be passing through soon. And, suddenly, there it was—a beautiful buck, at least several years old judging by its antlers. When the buck walked into range, he pulled back the arrow and shot. Missed! He set up again but couldn't get a second shot off before the buck had bounded away. How could he have missed that first shot? It was a perfect setup. So all the waiting was for nothing, and now he'd spooked the buck. He scratched his legs for a full minute, then scratched his whole body. Fate was not with him right now.