Chapter 17 Fertile

She saw, in her mind's eye, the black face of a young woman, her body slowly undulating under colorful robes. Who was this graceful creature? But, of course, it's Po! Sweet, beautiful Po. Po of the green parrots. Po, her dearest of childhood friends. We are both women now, she thought. Somewhere in the world, Po too had entered into the sisterhood of blood and fertility. This was their fate. This was their bond, their gift, their mystery, their power—the ocean of life flowing in and out of their bodies, renewing the world over and over again.

Then she remembered. The blood oath of her father and Uncle Rudolpho. The blood on his back from the sword of the Marquis. Blood pouring out of the wound on her forehead. The blood of El Alavádo from the spurs of the vaqueros. And she remembered, "Do you bleed?," And she wondered, "How much more 'blood' would there be?" Then she remembered. Sitting across from Yjou, sipping tea. Stroking Yjou's cheek and wiping away a tear.

Amaris Dahia opened her eyes and on her lips was the scent of blood oranges.