He's only just started to rebuild his relationship with his brother. It's been years--years--since he's spoken to any of his married sisters, and Acatl's honestly not sure he can do it. They have their own lives, their own families, and they certainly never shied away from telling him just what they'd thought of his decision to join the priesthood instead of taking up a profession that would support their parents in their old age.

And yet here he is, standing in front of his sister Icnoyotl's house with gifts of fruit and fine cotton cloaks. Another step, and he'll be past the threshold and into the courtyard. If he's brave enough. If he's not the coward they've always thought him, spine turning to water at the very idea of being thrown out again.

No, he thinks. I can do this.

He takes one step, two, and calls his sister's name.