Shame

Shortly after crossing the city limits, the wind began to pick up and kick sand across their path. At first, it was just a simple breeze, but as they reached the location where Ruiz had collapsed, it had grown into a wind storm. A hoofful of small vortices swirled a short distance away, kicking up even more dirt and sand.

"Do you think you can find your way home blind, señorita?" asked Ruiz. "Our visibility is reducing with every step."

Maria looked around at their surroundings. "In my experience, these don't last more than a few hours at most. There should be a tarp in the cart, and we just bought some rope. Let's pull over and wait it out."

With a nod, Ruiz helped pull the cart into the large rocks that had been used as cover for the gryphon that first night. Now, they would be providing cover for them, instead. The tarps, once pulled out, tried to drag him away with the wind, but with Maria's help, they managed to pin them down and secure a spot out of the wind.

"Nothing to do but sit and wait for it to stop," observed Maria. "Did you ever have dust storms like this?"

Ruiz nodded. "The worst one covered three fifths of our wheat crop in sand. We had to work fast to save it." He brushed the dust off of his sombrero. The chin strap had kept it from flying away with the wind, for which he was very thankful. He also took the time to remove his poncho and whip the dust from it, as well.

"You sure that dust won't bring your cough back? It sounded really nasty."

Ruiz shook his head. "It wasn't that bad, señorita."

Maria folded her front legs. "What constitutes a bad cough, in your eyes? What would you consider to be a bad cough?"

Ruiz shook his head. "It's a long story, señorita."

She leaned back against a rock. "We have time. The storm's not going anywhere."

She had him there. If ever there were a time for a long story, it was now. "Do you remember our talk in your bedroom? The one where I talked about my father?"

"I don't think you talked about him that much, but yeah."

"After I was born, my mother married. This time, it was a goat, like her. He--"

"Whoa, whoa, back up. Was your father not a goat?"

Ruiz cleared his throat. "Would you rather hear that story, or this one?"

Maria grinned sheepishly, lowering her head. "I'm sorry. Please, continue."

"My mom's first husband was my first role model. He treated me the same as his own children. He bought the plot of land where I grew up, started building the house, taught me how to shoot with a toy slingshot he bought me, and worked hard to make sure we were provided for. He even kept his eldest daughter in check; the "grand duchess." Perhaps he wasn't the ideal father, being gone a lot of the time, and spending a lot of home time sleeping, but what time he did spend with us was important.

"Then, when I was seven, he just... stopped showing up. For awhile, I was upset with him, until I found out what happened. When I was old enough to read, I found a letter he had written to my mother. It said "Estoy tosiendo sangre.""

"And that means?"

"He had a nasty cough. His lungs were filling with blood. It was a disease he didn't want to risk spreading to us, so he promised to write once a week to keep us informed. Two weeks later, the letters just... stopped."

Maria placed a hoof on his shoulder and gave him a solemn look. "I'm sorry."

"This was his belt. The slingshot, the knife, the buckle; all of it was part of his daily wear. In his letter, he told my mother that he wanted me to have it. As his oldest son, and I wasn't even his son, he wanted me to keep his family safe. My mom thought that would be too much for me, so she didn't say anything until years later. That's why, when I went to go bring his daughter back home, I brought them with me. Partially because I mistakenly believed that his authority over her would transfer into me, and partially because it was his wish that I had them. Maybe he considered me disposable, and that's why I was the first line of defense, but he was the first positive male influence in my life. I love him, and I wish he was my real father."

As Maria pulled him into a hug, he found that he wasn't afraid this time. It actually felt really good. So good, in fact, that he hugged her back.

"So, not to bring up a sore subject, but did you actually ever meet your biological father?"

"No, and I hope I never do. For his sake, as well as my own. I'll have another memory of him, and he'll be dead. It's a lose-lose situation, and I'd rather it never happened."

"So how do you know he's not a goat?"

"My mother was there when I was conceived. She knew what he looked like. She said she would never forget his face. It would haunt her nightmares. She never outright said it, but my face looks nothing like hers, at least in terms of structure and shape. I think she saw his face in mine."

"Ouch."

Ruiz shook his head and took off his poncho. "This was not something that belonged to my stepfather. I was the only one among my entire family that had to wear some kind of clothing inside the house. A poncho is good sun protection outdoors, but inside the house, it's not really as much a boon."

"So why did you have to wear it?"

Ruiz pointed to the white star on his chest. "This is my Caina. Rather, that's what it was called whenever it would show itself."

"So it showed up after your sister left?"

Ruiz furrowed his brow. "No, señorita, I was born with it."

"Then it's not your Caina. I don't think you even have one. It's just a mark on your chest, that's all."

"No, it's more than that."

"Do you know the origins of the Caina?"

"No, but--"

"But nothin'. Cainae are reserved for creatures who do terrible things to their families on purpose. You didn't decide the method of your conception, did you?"

"No, bu--"

"And you didn't know that going after that guy who you thought had run off with your sister would result in your home being taken, did you?"

"N-no."

"Did you ever so something with the intent of killing or wounding your flesh and blood?"

Ruiz pulled his sombrero down over his face.

"I don't think you did. Maybe I'm wrong, but if you did, you clearly feel that it was wrong. It's not a Caina."

"But my father had the same mark..."

"Who cares? You're better than he was. You're not the same. You said, earlier today, that you're a vaquero goat. He wasn't even a goat! I don't know what he was, but I'm certain that you don't belong in Tartauros with him."

For a minute, Ruiz was silent. Silent and still. Finally, he slipped his poncho back on. "I think I've said too much," he mumbled. "But, I know it's going to come up later. He was a gryphon."