Beneath Wandering Stars by Ashlee; Cowles

by culture we mean a nonstop party.
    “Nice to meet you all.” I look down the road and see that Seth has sped up, leaving a considerable gap between us. Thanks a lot, comrade.
    “Julia and Mary Kim only speak bits of English, but we communicate in other ways. Through the language of common humanity,” Harmony explains, beaming like a common light bulb. “Having such quiet companions works out well when the only sound you want to hear is the crunch of the
camino
beneath your feet.”
    “What made you want to walk to Santiago?” It’s a dangerous can of worms and I already suspect this lady’s answer will have something to do with shifting energy fields, but I ask in an attempt to avoid more probing questions about Lucas.
    Harmony snorts out a laugh. “Oh, I’m afraid my story is one massive cliché. Recently divorced woman seeks adventures abroad in a foreign land as a way of dealing with midlife crisis, and hopefully meets younger men while she’s at it.” Harmony studies Seth with animated eyebrows. “Men such as that fine specimen up ahead, though he looks a little
too
young. And probably a little too gladiatorial for my liking.”
    “Trust me, he’s too gladiatorial for most people’s liking.”
    “The
camino
may change that. It tends to give us what we
need
, not necessarily what we want. Though that’s the way of the Universe in general, isn’t it?”
    Yeah, I’m sure a nice blow to the skull was
exactly
what Lucas was missing.
    “Sure,” I reply, hoping that will be the end of her New Age nonsense. But no.
    “I see the
camino
as an opportunity to ask the Universe one big question that takes many miles to answer. My question is, where do I go from here?” Harmony twists her torso so she’s looking right at me as we walk, which is kind of creepy, I don’t care how much yoga you do. “And you, Gabi? What will your question be?”
    “I don’t have a question. I’m walking the
camino
for my brother. He’s hurt and—”
    “No!” Little Mary Kim pumps her fist into the air, her docile demeanor Viet Cong–intense all of a sudden. “Walk for other people okay, but also have own reason. Must have own reason!”
    “
Por qué
estas hacienda el camino
?” Julia repeats in Spanish.
    Wow, talk about a cohesive team strike. I look out over the ridge to our right, where a row of giant wind turbines whip through the air, generating electricity for all of Pamplona. Beyond their white blades, the indigo peaks of the Pyrenees fade into the distance, a reminder of how far Seth and I have already come. Watching the prongs slice through the clear blue sky makes me wonder what’s moving me. Where’s my motivation coming from? Why am I on the
camino
? Not my brother’s reason, or Seth’s reason, but
my
reason?
    All I get as an answer is a surge of anger. Why do I need a reason at all? Frodo didn’t leave the Shire to “find himself.” Odysseus wasn’t wandering the Mediterranean because his desk job sucked and he needed an adventure. None of the heroes in the stories I love left home because they
wanted
to, but because they
had
to. Maybe everyone else on the
camino
is here on some profound personal quest, but a spiritual search is a luxury I can’t afford. I’m walking for my brother, and to make my dad proud. That’s it.
    And that’s enough.
    • • •
    “All right, Seth, my turn. Why did you join the military?”
    My strategy is to start out slow. We’ve stopped to rest on a sea of fallen almond blossoms. It’s the perfect place to pin Seth with my query of the day, since neither of us is in a hurry to leave this magical spot anytime soon. I strip off my shoes and socks and stretch out beneath the almond trees, eager to soak up the warm sun on what looks like a bed of snow.
    “And your answer can’t be that it’s a family tradition. You’ve got to have your
own
reason.” Even if I don’t believe it, Harmony’s appeal to narcissism seems to work when you want to get people