The Roar of the Falls: My Journey with Kaya

Raven pounds into camp a moment later, dust rising in a cloud behind him, and swings off his horse in one smooth motion. He announces that the herd is safe. Our men were able to catch up to the enemies and drive them off. They’re all on their way home now. There are sighs of relief all around the fire. Kaya’s family is safe!

Kaya asks if they saw a little black-and-white horse in the herd. She has a small patch of white on her forehead. Raven frowns, thinking hard. Did Little Girl get lost in the crush? Did she wander off alone?

Kaya squeezes my hand, the color draining from her cheeks, and I squeeze back. Finally, Raven’s face relaxes into a grin. He does remember seeing her in the herd! She’s coming home safe and sound with the rest of the herd.

I let my breath out in a great rush, feeling the tension of the whole day finally drain from my shoulders. Kaya’s grip on my hand loosens, and her shoulders relax, too. Today’s adventure has ended well. And now, it’s time to go home.

Kaya jumps to her feet, energy flooding back into her now that the worst has passed. She wants to go meet the horses right away. I rise slowly to my feet, my body aching in places I didn’t know could ache. I’ve never wanted a hot bath more badly in my life. I stop Kaya and explain that I’d like to go home now. I thank her for everything she’s shown me today, and I tell her that I’ll never forget it.

Kaya nods, her eyes a little sad. She’ll miss me, too. I look at Kaya’s family and feel a rush of gratitude. I thank them all for taking care of me today. Silently, I thank them for showing me their homeland and how beautiful nature can be, and for showing me how brave I can be.

Kaya walks me down to the river bank, neither of us in any hurry to reach it. I tell her I’ll be able to find my way home now. We linger at the water’s edge, not wanting to say goodbye. We hug, holding on a moment longer than necessary, and I remind Kaya to take care of Little Girl for me. As I finish the walk back down to the river, I stop and turn. Kaya does, too, and we wave at each other as I watch the wind dance through the fringe on her dress.

When I get down to the riverbank, I dart behind a canoe, my heart pounding with a strange mix of sadness and relief. I take a deep breath and place my fingertip on the rim of the shell. I squeeze my eyes shut and trace a circle around its edge. Suddenly, the canoe and dirt under my legs disappear, and I land with a thump on my carpet. I open my eyes and see myself lying on the floor in my PJs. I push myself upright, shaking my head to clear it. I’m back home, safe. There are no raiders here.

As I climb into my bed between the sheets, sadness grips me all over again. There’s no Kaya. Her round face and sparkling eyes seem so far away. Did I really know her? Did I really ride a horse and run from enemy raiders? Did I spend a day outside enjoying how beautiful nature can be beyond my garden?

I picture Kaya’s figure standing at the top of the riverbank, her braids lifting in the wind. I have brought some of her bravery back home with me. From now on, I can be more brave at home, too.