She points to the ground. To something half hidden underneath a tight cluster of ferns. I step closer, Manuel at my elbow. Kusi and Sonco join us.
Someone lets out a smothered cry. I think it might be me.
Sayri’s bloody leg rests against a massive rubber tree.
Ripped clean.
We spend hours searching for the rest of him. But there’s nothing else. By the early afternoon, with most of the day behind us, Kusi pulls aside Sayri’s brother. Their exchange isn’t easy to watch. Kusi remains firm while the guard breaks down, crying out in his desperation. He pounds his chest, wipes his steaming eyes.
Chaska comes to stand by me. “We can turn back.”
I glance at her, my eyebrows rising. “Do you want to go back?”
“This is terrifying—and I’ve lived in the jungle all my life.” She bites her lip. “But we haven’t learned anything important. I don’t want to face our people empty-handed.”
I know the feeling. Which is why I won’t go back. Besides, at this point it feels safer to stick together. Kusi and the guard finish their conversation, and we resume our trek toward the dying part of the jungle, drawing closer to danger.
To the unknown.
We make camp later that evening, and once again I pull out my dented telescope. Manuel is standing on the other side of the roaring fire, but he looks over as if I’ve called his name. His gaze drops to the scope in my hands, and he frowns.
“I’m going,” I say, my heart hammering against my ribs. I’m scared to wander away, but I have to consult Luna. She might provide advice—or direction.
Manuel shakes his head.
I prepare for another argument, but I’m saved by Kusi. “We passed by a small clearing. Not too far of a walk.”
Manuel shoots him a look of profound disgust. “It’s dangerous. Why don’t we all pack up and spend the night there?”
“Too vulnerable to attack,” Kusi says. “But we could use Luna’s guidance.”
“I’ll go with her,” Chaska says. “I’ll have my weapon.”
“I go where she goes,” Manuel says. His expression could scare off a jaguar.
The three of us leave, walking away from our companions, away from warmth, and plunge deeper into the sinister forest. Manuel hacks at the dense foliage. I’m two steps behind him, carefully moving around thick sludge streaking through the green carpet. The ground emits a damp, mildewy scent. Liana vines loop down, and a few times I mistake one for a snake. The clearing comes into view, and Manuel stiffens as the trees become sparse, the protection growing thinner. Moonlight shines through the smattering of leaves, casting a delicate pattern onto the mushy green earth.
He sweeps the area and huffs out an annoyed breath. “How long will this take?”
“Long enough,” Chaska says.
“Helpful,” he mutters, then warily walks around the perimeter.
I pull out my scope then spend the next few minutes quieting my heart, calming my spirit. My breaths are intentional, slow and deep, brushing at the back of my throat and filling my lungs. My shoes sink into the earth, taking root. I say a soft prayer to Inti, for the warm days; to Pachamama, for nurturing life; and to Luna, for lighting the darkness.
Then I lift my scope and peer through it, trembling. Dimly, I’m aware of Chaska doing the exact same thing.
Please guide us.
The stars move, connecting and reconnecting, shifting and turning to fit against one another, forming shapes that only Chaska and I can see and decipher. Each word is a blow to my chest.
Enemy. Power. Near. Consume. Unnatural.
The message doesn’t change, and I feel the quiet assurance of Luna’s presence. Tucked in every glimmer of moonlight that kisses my skin and grazes my cheek.Hurry, she seems to whisper.Hurry.
“I don’t understand—hurry where?”
Chaska looks over at me. “That’s one of the words I see too.”
