Grave of Hummingbirds by Jennifer Skutelsky

daylight, and constant murmur of sound, the threat of darkness seemed poised, a throat opening to swallow a pill.
    He couldn’t see any adventure in climbing with Alberto. His chest constricted and suddenly, as he looked back at his mother, he could no longer see her clearly. Her edges blurred and her features disappeared one by one, as though she was being erased.
    Tears gathered, bringing with them a swelling certainty that Sophie would become one of his damaged images, that he would try to picture her later but would have only this smudged memory.
    “Because,” Finn said, “I’m busy. And we’re leaving.”
    “You are busy. And you’re leaving. How are you leaving? There’s no bus until tomorrow in the afternoon.” Alberto glanced back at the table, where Sophie had buried her head in a book. His scorn stung. “You are afraid.”
    “Afraid?” Finn snorted. “What’s there to be afraid of?”
    “Your mama. You cannot go without her. You are still a small boy. Small boy!”
    “Give me a break. I don’t care what you think.” But for some reason he did, and until the doctor had stopped at their table and fought with the governor, Finn had been wanting to do something, explore, anything other than babysit Sophie.
    “I will show you how they catch the condor.”
    Finn stared at him. “Seriously? You can do that?”
    “I can. Your mother will enjoy spending the day with her book. You will come with me. The condors are not far from here.”
    It took Finn all of two seconds to reach a decision. “Okay.” He’d turn back if it got too difficult. “Let me just tell her,” he said.
    “Say we’re going to see Dr. Vásquez Moreno’s birds. She won’t mind that. We’ll eat with him and come back before night. Go. I’ll wait for you here.”
    With a sense of disquiet that clashed with anticipation, Finn went back to the table.
    Sophie looked up. “No,” she said. “Lord knows I don’t think the man is up for guests. He doesn’t seem the type.”
    She closed her eyes for a moment, forcing herself to relax. “Did you find out when the next bus is?”
    “Not until tomorrow afternoon.”
    Disappointed, she slouched in her seat. “I don’t know, Finn. Do you think it’s a good idea?”
    Who the fuck knows, he wanted to shout.
    “He may warm to you. He certainly didn’t to me.” She sighed and handed him the bottle of water she’d packed in her bag that morning. “All right, go. When will you be back?”
    “We may have something to eat there, but I’ll make sure it’s before dark.”
    She took his hand. “Wait, Finn. If you’re uncomfortable, for any reason, don’t stay. Is your phone working?”
    It was, but his battery was low. He could feel her reluctance to let him leave. He wanted to gently disengage her fingers, which had grown like bungee cords to snag his shirt and wrap around him. “It’s okay, Mom. Don’t worry. I’ve taken on tougher things than a climb up a mountain.” He kissed her, and as he moved away to join Alberto, the elastic cords stretched. He felt them give a little and loosen, but he knew, with a surprising surge of affection for her, that if he were to fall, they would tighten and catch him.

    On their way out of the village, Alberto took Finn past the packed stone walls, metal panels, and railings of the livestock corrals. Finn stopped to stare at one of the bulls, whose black coat shone where the sun touched the crest of his back, his flank, a flickering ear. Shaggy hair on a big head curled onto a muscled neck and heavy shoulders. Multiple scars ran across his hide, and he’d lost the tip of one of his horns. An old warrior, he wouldn’t stand down, would brace his legs and face any onslaught, no matter what it cost him.
    There was a silence about that bull, an unconscious grace, even as he shifted away from them and bumped against the railings of his pen.
    “Hey, you,” Finn murmured. “What’s up?” He set his water bottle down and looked around for