Page 93 of The Lost Guardian

“It’s just a hobby,” she said softly, but Santiago could tell it meant more to her than that.

“Even before the Inca colonized the Andean people,” he said, eager to keep the conversation going, “there were many cultures that studied astronomy and astrology.”

“That makes sense.” Ali smiled. “If they had a view like this every night.”

“How could you not?” Santiago agreed, sweeping his arm above them to encompass the brilliant night sky.

“It’s funny, I’ve lived in Peru my entire life. I have Incan ancestry, too. But you know so much more about our past than I do,” Ali mused.

A strange pulse of emotions coursed through Santiago. There was some pride, but it was tinged with sadness.

“I figure that when you already feel connected to your people and culture, there’s less of a need to explore those connections,” he answered. “Like people who live in the same city all their lives but never see the tourist attractions. It’s all just there; it is. You don’t need to seek it out.”

“You felt like you needed to seek out your connection to Peru and your past,” Ali said.

It wasn’t a question, but Santiago nodded, the back of his head scraping the ground beneath them.

“You know more about our culture than I ever will,” he added softly. “Daily life, the tiny rituals that evolved over time, the customs and traditions that people take for granted. You were raised here. I can chase the past, but you live in the culture’s present. I’ll always be struggling to catch up.”

“It’s not a race, Rios.” Ali’s tone implored him to hear her. “And you have time to find your place in Peru, in our culture. Just as I have time to learn more about our past.”

They turned their heads, smiling at each other. Another thread of connection pulled Santiago closer to this place.

“Besides, you know way more about astronomy than I do,” he added, and had the privilege of witnessing her pleased smile.

And it was true. For all his study, Santiago was no expert in this subject. He had always been more of a “material culture” kind of guy. But then, he had never seen stars like this.

“Show me more constellations?” he requested and then swallowed a groan when she inched closer to him. His right side burned with her proximity.

In a moment of spectacular bravery, Santiago shifted until their arms were pressed against each other. She didn’t move away. Instead, Ali’s other arm pointed at the sky.

“It’s not just the stars that make constellations; the Inca found meaning in the negative spaces, too. The dark ink stains of the sky,” she explained. She moved her finger as if tracing a wave.

“See that curving dark space? That’s Mach’acuay: the serpent.”

“Oh wow, that’s awesome.” Santiago followed the clear serpentine shadow. “Snakes were guides to the afterlife, too,” he mused, “like the Southern Cross. Bridges between Kay Pacha and Ukhu Pacha.”

“Between this life and the next.” Ali nodded.

He looked pointedly toward her outstretched hand, inviting her to share again.

“Right next to it? The next dark splotch? That’s Hamp’atu: the toad.”

Santiago cocked his head a little, trying to see it.

“Imagine a frog against a window, splayed out, like this.” She extended her limbs, then stuck out her tongue.

Santi laughed. “Okay, yeah, now I can see it.”

“And of course, there’s the celestial llama.”

Santiago laughed again. “You’re joking, right?”

“Hey, the celestial llama is no laughing matter!” she teased him. “But nope, I’m serious. See that dark spot, there, against the bright lights of the Milky Way? In the middle.”

She watched as Santiago squinted, scanning the skies. “No,” he finally answered, frustrated.

“Here,” she said, grabbing the arm Santiago had pressed against her own. She extending her finger with his. “You see the expanse of the Milky Way, all the glowy stuff?” she asked, tracing her finger against the air.