Chapter 2
The little girl with big brown eyes had grown since her last visit.
She still had the round cheeks of youth, but her face had begun to take the shape of the woman she would become.
Abbakka walked beside Matanta, one hand placed gently on his flank, following the movement of his body more than the path of his paws.
In her other hand, she held a stick and parted the tall grasses in front of her as they made their way forward.
Adaiman twittered above their heads, flashing their green wings and tails as they flew.
“You are quiet today.” Matanta’s low voice rumbled in his rib cage, tingling Abbakka’s fingertips.
“I need to keep an eye out for snakes.” Abbakka did not look up from the ground.
“We’ve seen more and more cobras in town—it’s why Uncle Trimulya insisted we return here even though we were supposed to stay in Puttige for several more months.
He says we cannot let Ullal be overrun and that we need to protect our traders if we want to protect our economy.
He even ordered all the healers to carry turmeric wherever they go in case they encounter someone that’s been bitten. ”
Matanta shook his head, his silken mane rolling in jade waves from the top of his head to the base of his chest. He plodded forward with his eyes straight ahead, looking neither up nor down.
“These mountains are not your little village,” Matanta said.
“Ullal is hardly a little village!” Abbakka straightened her back. “It is the jewel of the coast. Our trade is the envy of all our neighbors.”
The winged lion chuckled as he paused and observed the adaiman swirling above them. He cocked his head toward the biggest one. “He is larger than all his brothers and sisters, is he not?”
“Yes.” Abbakka nodded but her eyes widened as Matanta extended his wings, dwarfing the adaiman and Abbakka herself. The birds chittered indignantly, protesting the display and puffing their feathers. Their change in size was hardly noticeable.
“He does not look so big now,” the little girl conceded. She crossed her arms as she continued, “But I cannot imagine a city so vast that it would make Ullal look small.”
“Can you imagine a bird so big it could pluck you up and take you into the skies?” Matanta tucked his wings and started to walk again. “As I said, this is not your little village. You have no idea the secrets this mountain hides.”
The little girl stared at the sky, slack jawed, and scurried to catch up with the winged lion.
She kept a watchful eye for threats hiding behind the puffy clouds that looked like unspun silk, both afraid of seeing a monstrous bird and terrified of missing it.
Her stick dragged behind her, leaving behind a thin trail that tangled with Matanta’s footprints.
“If you only look at the sky, a cobra is sure to bite your ankles,” Matanta said with a sigh.
“I cannot look in both places at once!” The girl pointed at the sky and then the ground. “I have to choose where to look.”
“You must at least pretend that you are checking everywhere, child. Have they taught you nothing? Your enemies will always strike when they think you’re not looking.”
“Cowards.” Abbakka raised her stick and held it as if she were ready to fight an imaginary opponent. “They should have the honor to battle face to face instead of in the shadows. Then skill would determine the victor.”
The green lion frowned. “For some, the honor of victory is enough. You must always be wary of the enemy you cannot see.”
The little girl tried to alternate her gaze between the ground and the sky but found that by looking everywhere, she saw nothing. “I cannot know everything that is happening all the time.”
Matanta nodded slowly as he continued to plod forward. “Yes, I suppose it is much harder for you. So, you must always be careful. Do not relax or let down your guard unless you know for certain you are safe.”
Abbakka’s foot dropped into one of Matanta’s paw prints. Her whole foot—from her heel to the tips of her toes—easily fit inside the imprint of one pad. She was filled with awe at the immense size and power of the creature who walked beside her.
Perhaps Ullal was small, after all.
“But Matanta,” Abbakka said. “You ask the impossible. I would never be able to sleep if I followed your advice.”
“Yes, little one.” Matanta nodded in agreement. “You must not close your eyes—even to blink—unless you know your enemies cannot see you.”
The girl who was not so little anymore laughed so hard that she had to stop walking. The green lion stared in confusion as tears formed in the corners of her eyes.
“Matanta!” Abbakka gasped for air between her giggles and needed a deep breath before she could continue. “Matanta, people have to blink.”
Her winged companion furrowed his brow as he considered her words. “Perhaps that is why so many of you die.”