Chasing the Suns

At the mountain's feet

I was immediately enveloped in a hug as warm and as enthusiastic as Sofiya's had been. Being in a mother's arms, a feeling I hadn't had in eons, had me pushing back tears.

Her Mama took a step back, and cupped my face with her weathered hands

"Little Leta, we missed you!"

I tried to hide my surprise. I'd expected apathy, at best, and rage, at worst. But none of that was reflected in Sofiya's mother's face. Where her daughter was willowy and slender, her mother was short, and well-built, the result of a lifetime of hard physical labour.

As she and Sofiya gushed and fluttered around the room like moths, I searched the one-room hut for her father.

He was sat on the far side, across the unlit fire pit. As a child, his stern nature and constant disapproval had intimidated and frightened both of us. As I watched him watching me, I felt like he too, had not changed.

He stood, and I was glad to see that we were now the same height, at least. When he spoke, his low, gravelly voice carried throughout, but was not aimed at me.

"What are you thinking, bringing her here. She needs to leave. Now."

I instinctively took a step back, his words too similar to what the man on the cliff had said before he pushed me.

Sofiya and her Mama fell quiet, and the tension grew so unbearable that I cleared my throat

"I'm sorry, I'm only passing through."

He met my gaze

"So pass through."

Sofiya stepped between us, and it seemed to me to be a curious re-enactment of our shared childhood, but this time, she was attempting to shield me.

"Papa. She's not like that, it's Leta. She can stay."

Not like what, I wanted to ask, but it hardly felt like the time for interruptions, as my friend and her father stared down one another.

"You don't know her anymore, she needs to leave. The others won't allow it either."

"Well we'll keep her hidden, then."

Their words just confused me more. Why would I need to hide? This had been my home. I was born only a few huts down. What did it matter that I'd returned?

Sofiya's father shook his head, seemingly half in anger and half in resignation.

"I don't like it."

My friend stood her ground

"You don't need to like it, Papa, but she can stay. For at least a few nights. It's Leta."

They locked eyes again, having a wordless conversation in the way that only families can. They must have reached some sort of decision, as her father let out an almighty sigh, before pushing past me, out into the fading sun.

Sofiya and her mother turned to face me, their faces apologetic.

Deciding honesty be the best approach, I asked

"What's wrong? Why can't I be here?"

Sofiya opened her mouth to answer, but her Mama shushed her, before turning to me

"It'll be best told over a meal. Leta, you get the fire going, and we'll get a proper meal in you, you're far too skinny!"

We all sprung into action, and only minutes later we three were sat cross-legged around the pit, with bowls of hearty meat stew in front of us, with a little extra still simmering away.