She went quiet then as I guided us back to El Mercado de Obregán. La ciudad was as alive as it had been the day before, as was El Mercado. We squeezed through people negotiating at the stalls, stopping only to try some colorful pastries from a panadería. Full of sweetness, we perused the available food. I picked out mostly things that wouldn’t spoil in a few days, that would keep our energy up and help us on the journey to Solado.
At least I assumed the journey north would be difficult. Since I had left home, I had already traveled farther in a single day than I ever had before. I had walked for hours, and if Emilia was correct in her estimation, I had more of those days ahead of us.
But … how sure of that was she? How did she actually know the route back to her home?
I didn’t question her aloud, and with our bags full of supplies, we joined the procession out of Obregán on the northern road, following behind a couple of carts loaded up with fresh vegetables and grain. We walked in silence as the tall buildings gave way to smaller ones, as the shadows shrank and disappeared, as people turned off the main road toward their destinations, wherever they lay.
It took us nearly an hour to reach the edge of Obregán, and I could see enormous montañas in the distance. Here, the homes were spread farther out, laid closer to the ground, and there were more animales roaming about, like cattle, cabras, and perros. I saw camisas strung out to dry in the morning heat, children playing together, running between houses.
We observed it all in silence, two strangers awash in our unfamiliarity with the world around us. I knew that it had to be uncomfortable for Emilia, who grew up in the shadows beneath the ground, to see children free in the open air. But it was strange for me, too, because life in Obregán did not seem constrained. People were free to come and go as they pleased. They were not bound to stay in one place.
And then Your presence, Solís, was so minimal. I barely heard Your name. No one seemed to be terrified by the presence of las pesadillas. Where were they? Were none of the people here tormented by their refusal to admit the truth?
Why were the stories around You and las cuentistas so different in Empalme?
There was a final well next to the northern gate to La Ciudad de Obregán, and we slaked our thirst and refilled our waterskins as one of los guardias watched us. I expected him to say something, to demand payment, but he gave us a curt smile before he focused his attention on the north.
That was it.
With my goatskin bag full and Emilia’s canteen overflowing, we left La Ciudad de Obregán.
We crossed the boundary into the desert, which stretched before us, las montañas far in the distance. Your heat bore down on us as You climbed the deep blue sky. It was always hot during the daytime, but I could tell that today would be particularly intense.
And I had no idea where we were going. Just … north.
“Did you and Julio follow a trail to Obregán?” I asked, once we were well beyond the gate.
“For the most part,” she said. “Whenever we found a new aldea, we stopped…”
She didn’t finish her sentence. She didn’t need to.
“So … should we retrace your journey? How much of it do you remember?”
Emilia gazed off to the north. “That’s not really necessary,” she said. “We just have to head in the right direction, and Solís will help with the rest.”
I smiled at first; it was a charming answer. But then she started straying immediately from the wide road that led out of Obregán.
“¡Oye!” I called out. “Emilia, where are you going?”
She glanced back, then pointed to the northeast. “We need to head that direction,” she answered. “Hay una granja por ahí.”
I approached her. “How do you know that?”
“Solís tells me. I just know.”
I rubbed at my eyes. “Are you being serious, Emilia?”
“I can’t describe it,” she said. “I know it sounds odd.”
I was Your cuentista, Solís. And yet here was someone You apparently spoke to. You had been silent my whole life, leaving me to ponder Your mysteries alone.
There was no reason for her to lie; dying in the desert was not something she craved. So, I had to believe, despite the resentment building in me. What made her special? I wondered.
No matter. Because if Simone could give me what I needed, then this journey would be worth it.
So I accepted what she told me.
“Okay, then here’s your first real lesson,” I said. “It is very easy to get lost in the desert, even if you can see your destination.”
“But they’re montañas and—”
I raised my hand to stop her. “Even then. Unless you truly know the way, you shouldn’t stray from trails and paths. They exist for a reason.”
“Which is?” she asked, scrunching up her face.
“Things can bleed into one another, start to look repetitious. Even worse, as Solís sucks the water out of you, you can … you can see things.”
“Things?” She pulled her canteen out and took a small drink. “What kind of things?”
“You never really know,” I answered. “The mind can imagine all sorts of images. Fresh agua. Árboles. Animales. They seem real, but they are not.”
“How do you know what’s real, and what isn’t?”
“Hopefully, we won’t reach that point,” I said. “But we can’t just leave the trail like that. Give me a general sense of direction, but let’s stick to the road for the most part. I don’t know what we’ll encounter otherwise.”
“I won’t disappoint you, Xochitl,” she said. “I promise.”
I gestured in front of me to the path that snaked to the north, and Emilia led us, moving at a steady pace. She seemed to be turning over the idea
