stick, something bright caught my eye in the midst of all the green. Just for a moment, it also caught a sliver of late afternoon sunlight. I blinked then rubbed my eyes. At first I thought it was a bird, maybe a dove.
I squinted and then rubbed my tired eyes again.
It wasn’t a bird. Or a feather. Or even a leaf.
It dangled from a single tree branch across the river, eye level with me. If I wanted to, I could step across the larger rocks in the water and pluck it like a berry.
But I didn’t. I didn’t dare.
That’s because dangling from a bright green tree branch was one of the white shells from my necklace. The same one I tied to another tree in another place. What else could it be?
More importantly, how did my shell find its way all the way up this endless mountain?
Chapter Nine
I couldn’t break my eyes away from the shell.
I’d almost forgotten the small, half-filled water pouch that I left sitting alongside the stream. At the last minute, when I was certain Jorge wasn’t looking, I slipped it down the front of my dress, hoping my tightened belt would keep it from falling down to my feet when I walked.
My heart raced as Jorge and I walked back to where Alfonso and Diego began to unpack their deerskin sacks. My mind spun with all of the possibilities, none of which made sense.
How did my shell find its way to a tree branch?
Who put it there? A bird? There were flocks of black birds the size of jack rabbits with yellow beady eyes darting above us. Certainly any one of them could carry a shell, but all this way?
And what about Diego? Would Diego be so cruel as to give me false hope? Did he find the shell from where I left it? Would Alfonso?
My hands and fingers trembled as I dug a hole for the fire, knowing that someone from my village—maybe even someone from my family—could be sharing the same air.
I should have been concentrating on rubbing the fire sticks between my hands but my eyes refused to stop scanning the forest surrounding me. Breathing had become difficult; concentration, practically impossible. My hands turned clammy. The sticks kept dropping into the hole.
“What’s taking so long with the fire?” Diego asked. His tone was unusually curt. I wondered, too late, whether Jorge had told him about our conversation by the stream.
I lowered my eyes to the fire sticks and willed myself to concentrate. After blowing on my hands, I began to rub the sticks. One stick rubbed against the other while lying flat inside the freshly dug hole. Lobo sat beside me, his tail thumping expectantly against the cold ground. It kept perfect time with the beating near my temples. Lobo sniffed around my belt for more dried meat. Finding none, his snout dropped to his paws. Seems I couldn’t please anyone, not even a wolf.
“The wood must be too wet,” I said, hoping that the anxiety in my voice went unnoticed. When I couldn’t produce even the slightest glow with my sticks, I swallowed, pulled back my shoulders, and coaxed my heartbeat to slow. And then with my head lowered, I tried again. And again. The third time, mostly from exhaustion, my fingers didn’t tremble as much.
Alfonso grunted over me, predictably, and Diego sighed. “Guess I’ll go catch some fish,” he said, kicking a rock with the tip of his boot, just as the tip of my stick began to smolder.
Thank you, Hunab Ku , I murmured to myself. “If you’ll wait, I’ll come with you,” I said just as the dried leaves inside the hole began to burn from the heat of my sticks. I sat back on my heels and stared up at him. Feeling bolder, I pretended to smile.
That pleased him.
“I’ll wait,” Diego said, his voice returning to his normally bright tone, along with a glow in his eyes that burned my cheeks. Lowering my eyes to the fire, I stoked the leaves with a longer stick, just until I was certain the fire would spread inside the hole. I filled it with enough dry leaves and twigs to keep it burning till our return.
Diego extended
I squinted and then rubbed my tired eyes again.
It wasn’t a bird. Or a feather. Or even a leaf.
It dangled from a single tree branch across the river, eye level with me. If I wanted to, I could step across the larger rocks in the water and pluck it like a berry.
But I didn’t. I didn’t dare.
That’s because dangling from a bright green tree branch was one of the white shells from my necklace. The same one I tied to another tree in another place. What else could it be?
More importantly, how did my shell find its way all the way up this endless mountain?
Chapter Nine
I couldn’t break my eyes away from the shell.
I’d almost forgotten the small, half-filled water pouch that I left sitting alongside the stream. At the last minute, when I was certain Jorge wasn’t looking, I slipped it down the front of my dress, hoping my tightened belt would keep it from falling down to my feet when I walked.
My heart raced as Jorge and I walked back to where Alfonso and Diego began to unpack their deerskin sacks. My mind spun with all of the possibilities, none of which made sense.
How did my shell find its way to a tree branch?
Who put it there? A bird? There were flocks of black birds the size of jack rabbits with yellow beady eyes darting above us. Certainly any one of them could carry a shell, but all this way?
And what about Diego? Would Diego be so cruel as to give me false hope? Did he find the shell from where I left it? Would Alfonso?
My hands and fingers trembled as I dug a hole for the fire, knowing that someone from my village—maybe even someone from my family—could be sharing the same air.
I should have been concentrating on rubbing the fire sticks between my hands but my eyes refused to stop scanning the forest surrounding me. Breathing had become difficult; concentration, practically impossible. My hands turned clammy. The sticks kept dropping into the hole.
“What’s taking so long with the fire?” Diego asked. His tone was unusually curt. I wondered, too late, whether Jorge had told him about our conversation by the stream.
I lowered my eyes to the fire sticks and willed myself to concentrate. After blowing on my hands, I began to rub the sticks. One stick rubbed against the other while lying flat inside the freshly dug hole. Lobo sat beside me, his tail thumping expectantly against the cold ground. It kept perfect time with the beating near my temples. Lobo sniffed around my belt for more dried meat. Finding none, his snout dropped to his paws. Seems I couldn’t please anyone, not even a wolf.
“The wood must be too wet,” I said, hoping that the anxiety in my voice went unnoticed. When I couldn’t produce even the slightest glow with my sticks, I swallowed, pulled back my shoulders, and coaxed my heartbeat to slow. And then with my head lowered, I tried again. And again. The third time, mostly from exhaustion, my fingers didn’t tremble as much.
Alfonso grunted over me, predictably, and Diego sighed. “Guess I’ll go catch some fish,” he said, kicking a rock with the tip of his boot, just as the tip of my stick began to smolder.
Thank you, Hunab Ku , I murmured to myself. “If you’ll wait, I’ll come with you,” I said just as the dried leaves inside the hole began to burn from the heat of my sticks. I sat back on my heels and stared up at him. Feeling bolder, I pretended to smile.
That pleased him.
“I’ll wait,” Diego said, his voice returning to his normally bright tone, along with a glow in his eyes that burned my cheeks. Lowering my eyes to the fire, I stoked the leaves with a longer stick, just until I was certain the fire would spread inside the hole. I filled it with enough dry leaves and twigs to keep it burning till our return.
Diego extended
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