Beneath a Southern Sky Read Online Free PDF

afternoon, watching Anazu’s preparations from a distance.
    As she sat there again that night, the fires in the village dying, Daria thanked God that Anazu had agreed to her request. Then for the thousandth time, she whispered a prayer for Nate’s safety. She gazed into the star-crested sky and thought back to that last night she and Nathan had spent together before he left on his journey.
    And now, aching for him, searching the sky for “their” star, she was consumed with fear that she might never have a chance to tell him that a starry sky would forever remind her of how much she loved him—and how much she was loved by him.

    Early the next morning as she packed her belongings, the breakfast fires in the village reminded her that she hadn’t eaten anything since Tommi’s banana the afternoon before. Anazu had kept her well supplied with roasted meat, but she’d had no appetite. She fought back the nausea that had dogged her for a week; lack of sleep and food, and the tremendous stress of Nathan’s absence had taken their toll. Finally she finished packing and went to find something her stomach wouldn’t reject.
    As she pulled her skillet from its hook on the wall, a shout from the forest pierced the air. The pan fell from her hands and clattered to the floor as she ran outside.
    Quimico and Tados came into the clearing, striding breathlessly toward the center of the village. Her heart leapt into her throat and she ran to meet them, straining to see Nate’s tall, lean figure.
    The two men motioned wildly to her, shouting words she could not understand.
    The villagers came running from all directions and gathered around the men.
    Quimico spoke the same urgent words over and over again. Fogorio. Defuerto . Daria heard the syllables clearly, but her mind wouldn’t allow them to make sense to her. It was as though she had never heard the Timoné tongue before.
    But while his words seemed alien to her ears, the heartsick expression on Quimico’s face spoke a language she understood only too clearly.

Three
    W here is Nate?” She looked past the two guides, her eyes wild. “Nate? Where is Nathan?” She ran toward Quimico and Tados, screaming his name over and over again until it came out as a hoarse croak. Yet somewhere deep inside herself she knew the answer to her panicked question.
    Quimico held up a hand as she came to stand before him. The stocky, brown-skinned native placed his arms across his chest and shook his head solemnly—a gesture that was startlingly like Nathan Camfield. Turning to Anazu, who had pushed his way through the other villagers, Quimico spoke rapidly in a low voice.
    She separated two words from the jumble that poured from Quimico’s lips. Fogorio . Fire. Defuerto . Dead.
    And Nate’s name. Dr. Nate. Medicine Doctor .
    “No!” Daria sank to her knees, her heart in her throat, her head throbbing. “Oh, dear God, no! Not Nathan! Please, God! No…” she moaned.
    She felt an arm go around her and glanced up to see Anazu’s wife, Paita. The woman knelt beside her and began cooing soft words in Daria’s ear, rocking her gently back and forth.
    Daria was numb. She couldn’t understand the words Quimico and Tados were spewing now to the gathered crowd, but she knew the only thing that had meaning for her. Nathan was dead.
    The strength went from her, and she would have slumped in a heap on the ground if Paita had not held her against her strong, thick body. Paita held Daria upright until the men finished talking, then she beckoned for her daughter. Casmé came quickly to Daria’s side, and the two women helped her to her feet and ushered her across the stream to her hut.
    They helped her lie down on the grass mat in the corner. Paita poured a mug half-full of strong coffee from the thermos, and Casmé held it to Daria’s lips while she sipped.
    As the horror of the truth sank its teeth into her, Daria allowed the women to wash her body, submitting willingly to the Timoné ritual for