Chapter 16

I pick up the paintbrush and make my next stroke. I can’t lose the moment.

Asudan and I paint while the band makes a cappella together. From one chant to the next, my hills whisper a story. I mold one end of my horizon into a castle and the sky above it into a cosmic tunnel of star-filled constellations—constellations that belong to the charging hooves of Asudan’s mighty stallion.

Our lines finally meet.

Energy bursts from my pores like sweat, and I want to dance.

“Minunat!” calls a downy rich voice.

I turn. My arms drop—throbbing, aching.

The chanting halts.

A staunch wave of exhaustion rolls over me so fast that I almost fall to my knees.

Varujan, fresh-faced, with shaggy black hair combed and goatee trimmed, nudges me with his bare shoulder. “Have you enjoyed yourself?”