Food would be scarce for a while, at least until we could get a new crop of vegetables growing, but we had moved our tribe’s location many times over my life and this was just something we had to persevere.

My first order of business was to build Paraila’s new home, so he would have shelter. Two of my tribe mates helped me with the structure, but I then chased them away to work on their own longhuts while I put the palm roof in place.

“Are you still angry we have decided not to raid the Matica?” Paraila asks with humor in his voice.

“That decision hasn’t been made for sure,” I point out. “Father Gaul may return and tell us the Matica aren’t interested. Then there will be war.”

Paraila snickers at me. “Headstrong, you are. But this old man wants peace. He wants our children returned, and then he wants to live a life free of those worries.”

My blood freezes in shame over his words. Because Paraila wants something that he should have. It’s only my fervent need for revenge that’s fueling me on, making me argue against him at every step of the way. Peace is a strange idea. Sure, I’d seen it in the modern world, but I’d seen enough to know that it wasn’t truly attainable in any society. People still fought and killed each other, squabbling over lands, rights, and monies. Our society was no different, so I didn’t want to give up on my need to set things right.

“I see Tukaba looking at you,” Paraila says in mischievous voice.

My glance cuts over to the women sitting around a communal fire, baking up some cassava flour for a midday meal. Her eyes are indeed focused on me, but the minute I look at her, they drop in total subservience.

“Not interested,” I tell Paraila as I lift another palm panel to the roof and start to tie it to the supports. “I’ve got work to do.”

Paraila snickers, and then he starts laughing loudly.

“What’s so funny?” I snap.

“You’re funny,” he says while still chuckling. “The Zacharias I know wouldn’t have cared if there was work to be done. He would have had Tukaba on her knees in the dirt and unleashed his mighty—”

“Enough, old man,” I roar. “When did you get to be so rotten?”

Paraila continues to chuckle as he swings lazily in his hammock. “Oh, Zacharias,” he says with amusement. “You don’t belong here.”

My head snaps down to his and my eyes narrow. “Why would you say that?”

“Because your heart lies elsewhere,” he says simply.

I scoff at him and wrench another panel into place. Wiping my sweaty forehead on the sleeve of my shirt, I step away from the longhouse and walk over to a gourd filled with water, taking a deep drink. Looking back at Paraila, whose eyes shine at me, I say, “My heart is here where it belongs, Father. Stop trying to see something that isn’t there.”

Turning away from Paraila, I grab my machete and stomp off into the jungle to cut some more palm. I need escape from his knowing eyes and his wiser words. I may want to deny what he sees in me, but the truth is, my heart is nowhere but back where Moira is. I’d only been back in Caraica a day before I’d realized I had made the biggest mistake in my life.

Not in returning to Caraica… because that was something I had to do. I had to return and make sure Paraila was okay, and I had to help my tribe avenge our fallen and stolen. No, my mistake was in not telling Moira how I felt. My mistake was in telling her I wasn’t coming back. My mistake was in cutting off all ties with the one person in this world that I cared for more than anything. I f**ked up big time, and I was now stuck in a situation that I didn’t know how to fix. I’m not even sure it is fixable because I think of how easily Moira accepted me telling her it was over. She had turned her back on me and, although tears of sadness were coursing down her face, I also saw that her spine was stiffened with resolve when she walked away. She never looked back at me once.

It was over. For sure. I needed to let it go and figure out a way to harden my heart. This was my life now, and I needed to live it as best I could without having her by my side.

Father Gaul had returned to our village three days later and, surprising to us all, he had the five children with him. They ran to their mothers, tears of joy breaking out in everyone’s eyes, including mine. In addition to the kids, he had peace offerings from the Matica that included seeds, flour, and items such as blankets and plastic tarps. The Matica had established trade relations with other tribes as well as river merchants. They were more advanced than we were when it came to using those items to make their lives easier.

Everyone was stunned by the ease with which the Matica had opened up to the possibility of peace. It didn’t come without a price though. In exchange, we had to agree to no further raids against them, as well as open up to the idea of marriage contracts with their tribe. This was to help cement a permanent relationship and to help build their numbers. While they were seeking peace with us, they still warred with other tribes and, in addition, we were expected to ally with them.

I was bitter over the terms, still thirsting for the need for vengeance, but the Elders and most of the other tribesman agreed this was the best course of action.

A feast is underway, and the moon is hanging low over our new village. Most of the longhouses are complete, and we are settling in fine. I’m still wearing the clothes I brought with me, and I can’t figure out why I haven’t forsaken them yet. Many of my tribe mates have teased me over it, but all in good nature.