The Eternal Chase

As the sun sets over the village of Searajel, Chief Xbalanque and his astronomers climb the narrow, winding paths leading up the side of Mount Alsano to their observatory at the peak. They want to check their calculations one last time before the solar eclipse they believe will happen the next day. Below them, the rest of the village bustles with activity; adults clean up after the evening meal while children run and play on dirt paths between stone houses built into the mountainside. The tension of anticipation hangs thick over Searajel. It has been generations since the last solar eclipse. Some whisper that such upheaval in the skies means that the gods are displeased with humankind. Even the children’s games are affected: Balam and Mulac, the oldest boys, are pretending to be angry gods harassing the other children.

Near the central fire of Searajel, a few of the village elders have gathered. They whisper amongst themselves for a few moments while they watch the children play.

“That’s enough, Mulac,” old Hozanek calls. His weathered voice is stern and brings the boy to a halt.

“But Granpa–” he whines. A disapproving frown from Hozanek stifles the rest of the boy’s protests.

“Gather by the fire, children,” the oldest of the women by the fire invites. Her spine is straight as an arrow despite her many years, and though her beaded braids are graying, her dark eyes sparkle with life. “Come sit down and Mother Citlali will tell you a story.”

“Storytime! Storytime!” little Coszcatl cheers, racing to sit right next to Citlali. The other children follow, though not all share Coszcatl’s enthusiasm; Mulac and Balam lurk at the outskirts of the group with sullen faces.

“That’s right. Come in close, where it is warm and bright,” Citlali smiles as she settles on a large stone by the fire, the Elder’s seat. The children squabble for rock-chairs of their own, and many of them end up sitting on the dirt in the flickering firelight.

“What story will you tell tonight, Mother Citlali?” Poxlom demands. Patience has never been the young boy’s best quality.

“Tonight calls for a special story. You have heard from our chief and the astronomers what will happen tomorrow, haven’t you?”

“The moon will eat the sun!” Sacnite declares, making the smaller children around her gasp and whimper in fear.

“Don’t be dumb,” Balam scorns. “The moon can’t eat the sun. It’s just an eclipse. We’ve all seen them woven in the star charts in our houses.”

“Yes, Balam, tomorrow we will have a solar eclipse. But there’s no need to be unkind to the little ones. It’s been a long time since I’ve told the story of why eclipses occur. Would you all like to hear it?”

“Yes! Yes!” the children cheer with chaotic abandon.

“Then hush, my children, and listen well. Mother Citlali will tell you.” The older woman shifts on the Elder’s seat, making herself comfortable. The children scoot closer to her, dark eyes shining like stars in the firelight. “Beyond seven mountain ranges, beyond seven rivers, the gods once walked amongst mankind, such that it was hard to tell the mundane from the divine.”

“Whoa! That must have been so cool,” Poxlom interrupts. 

Sacnite elbows him in the ribs. “Shhh! Let Mother Citlali tell!”

After a moment’s reproving look to the disruptive little ones, Citlali continues. Her voice rises and falls with the rhythm of the story, and she uses hand gestures and character voices to bring her tale to life. “At that time everyone lived in peace and harmony. And among the people of the sacred land of Thonquma, there was a handsome young man whose hair was like fire and whose skin was like burnished gold. His name was Khotyx, and he could do no wrong in the eyes of the people. His presence brought warmth and light to Thonquma, and his smile caused crops to grow. He was the son of Sky Mother and every day would travel the long, arching bridge through Sky Mother’s domain to visit her. The people of Thonquma protested that he spent too long on these journeys, that they needed him on the ground, and so Sky Mother gave him a fiery bird, large enough to ride, to make his journeys faster.”

“I want a magic fire-bird,” Mulac grumbles. Some of the other children murmur their agreement, but they quickly settle down under Citlali’s gaze.

“And also living in Thonquma at that time was a beautiful young woman with hair like a waterfall of silver, the daughter of Star Father,” the elder goes on. “Her name was Xadona, and among all the people of Thonquma, she alone sang songs and wrote poetry that could move the waters and bring the stars closer to listen. She asked Khotyx if she could use the road through Sky Mother’s domain to visit her father. Khotyx agreed on the condition that only one of them could use the road at a time. So as soon as Khotyx next returned to Thonquma, Xadona set out along the long, arching bridge to visit Star Father.

“But Xadona traveled on foot, and her journey was slow. Khotyx grew impatient, and his anger scorched the crops to ash. Sky Mother missed her son desperately, and so she wept over Thonquma. Her tears fell heavy on the earth, extinguishing Khotyx’s flames but causing the rivers to burst their banks. Nothing could be cooked or dried out in Thonquma while Sky Mother cried, and as long as Khotyx’s anger burned hot, Sky Mother continued to weep.”

“Oh no!” Meztli, an anxious little girl with ragged fingernails, cries. “Was Thonquma destroyed? What did the people do?”

“The people had to hunt animals and scavenge the forest for food. Many of them fell ill because they were hungry and the weather was always so damp. It was not a good time to live in Thonquma. Khotyx could see that the people were miserable, but he was too angry at Xadona for taking such a long journey to help the people. He just paced through the land with his rage burning, and still Sky Mother wept.”

“How horrible!”

“Shhhh, Meztli. I wanna hear more,” Coszcatl cuts in.

“For her part, Xadona was traveling as fast as she could on that long bridge, and her journey was no longer than Khotyx’s travels had been before Sky Mother gave him the fiery bird. At long last, she returned to Thonquma and was dismayed by the destruction before her–ruined crops and flooded villages.

“‘This is all your fault!’ Khotyx told her. ‘Your journey took too long!’”

“SO MEAN!” Meztli cries.

“Yes, Xadona agreed with you, Meztli. ‘My fault?’ she protested to Khotyx. ‘I did not burn the crops or cause the rains!’

“But Khotyx did not answer her. He jumped onto his fire-bird’s back and flew away to visit Sky Mother again. Xadona was angry at Khotyx for his rash words and sad for the people of Thonquma, because they suffered needlessly in her absence. She sang a song of mourning that called the excess water out of Thonquma and gave new life to the crops.”

“I knew it! I knew everything would be okay!” Sacnite exults.

“But the eclipse! What does this have to do with the eclipse?!” Poxlom demands, squirming in his seat.

“Hush, Poxlom, and Mother Citlali will tell you. Now, where was I?”

“Xadona was singing a song of mourning that helped Thonquma,” Balam supplies. He’s been drawn into Citlali’s masterful storytelling along with all the other children.

“Ah, yes. Thank you, Balam. Star Father, listening from above to Xadona’s song, called that excess water to himself and froze it into crystals, which he used to form an icy winged serpent. This ice serpent was his present to Xadona, a mount as fast and as radiant as Khotyx’s fire-bird. In gratitude for Star Father’s gift, Xadona sang a new song of joy. The people of Thonquma thanked her for returning to them and sparing them from further destruction.”

“And everyone lived happily ever after?” Meztli asks, her eyes full of hope.

“That can’t be the end! We haven’t heard about the eclipse yet!” Poxlom protests.

“The people of Thonquma were happier, and Xadona was at peace–until she saw Khotyx’s fire-bird in the sky again,” Citlali answers Meztli. “As soon as he got close to Thonquma, Xadona jumped on her winged serpent and sped away to see Star Father. She did not want to see him or speak with him, so hurt was she by his unjust blame for Thonquma’s suffering. Khotyx watched open-mouthed as she flew away, leaving a sparkling trail of ice crystals in her wake. His amazement grew as he surveyed Thonquma. Where he had left waterlogged ashes, he now saw sprouting plants and people rebuilding their lives. New respect for Xadona bloomed in his heart.”

“Ooooo, did he fall in love with her?!” Sacnite squeals.

“That’s not for me to say,” Citlali answers mildly before going on with the story. “And so when Xadona returned, Khotyx tried to speak with her. He wanted to apologize for his rash behavior. But Xadona wanted nothing to do with him and fled from him whenever he approached. Part of her feared that he would hurt her or the people of Thonquma again with rash words or actions, and part of her feared that his hotheadedness and his fire-bird would melt her ice serpent. And so she flew away from Thonquma, choosing to stay aloft with her winged ice serpent, between the world and Star Father, constantly circling the earth. From where we sit tonight, she appears as the moon, an ever-changing shelter made from the winged serpent’s ice crystals, tucked in Star Father’s embrace. When the moon disappears from the night sky, Xadona is spending time in the hidden, sacred land of Thonquma, creating new songs and poems.”

“That’s the new moon, right?” Coszcatl asks.

“That’s right, Coszcatl. And Khotyx still pursues Xadona, hoping to make amends. He journeys across the sky each day, seeking Sky Mother’s wisdom for how to make things right. He also constantly circles the earth, trying to catch up with Xadona. The light from Khotyx and his fire-bird bring us warmth and make our crops grow. And sometimes Sky Mother still weeps for her son’s rash decisions, bringing rain upon the land.”

“But what about the eclipse, Mother Citlali?” impatient Poxlom cries. “Is that when Khotyx finally catches Xadona?”

“Yes, Poxlom. In tomorrow’s eclipse, Sky Mother will make it so that Xadona’s and Khotyx’s paths cross in their eternal chase,” Mother Citlali smiles indulgently at the young boy. “Khotyx will apologize to Xadona, as he does each time they meet. Beautiful cold light and strange shadows will grace the earth as they approach one another. But Xadona will flee from him again, determined to keep his flames from melting her ice serpent’s wings. And so Khotyx will begin his chase anew, causing the endless cycle of day and night upon the earth to continue.”

“But what if Xadona doesn’t run away?” sweet Meztli worries. “Will the world be dark forever?”

“Does Khotyx love Xadona?” Sacnite wonders, bouncing in her seat on the ground.

“Only the gods know,” Mother Citlali tells them, her eyes growing distant for a moment before she refocuses, smiling, on the children around her. “But our people have recorded many such meetings between Khotyx and Xadona, long before any of you were born. And every time, Xadona breaks away from Khotyx and day and night return as normal. We have no cause to fear that tomorrow will be any different.”