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“When will the shaman give his blessing?”
“Not until the jungle speaks to him. It’s why he wants another ceremony as he says the jungle is talking about an unhappy balance.”
Eden rests her cheek on Samuel’s shoulder. “I’m glad the jungle approved of us.”
Samuel closes his eyes and nods. He can no longer imagine his life without Eden.
* * *
The following morning, Samuel wakes early and creeps around the hut so as not to wake Eden. He understands her fatigue and the need for her to get adequate rest. He’d love nothing more than to lie with her, pretend it’s a lazy Sunday, and spoon her until she stirs.
“Hey,” she murmurs.
He stills and turns to check on her. “I was trying not to wake you.”
“Our baby has been moving all night and kept me awake.”
Samuel goes to her and places his hand on her abdomen. “Do you feel okay?”
“Ah-ha.” She places her hand over his. “It wasn’t just our baby. I had a dream last night and need to know about the Watache tribe, so I won’t fabricate my own version of cannibalism.”
Samuel takes Eden’s hand in his, raises it to his lips, and kisses her knuckles. “I’ll let nothing happen to you. Now come.” He eases her up and out of the hammock and then guides Eden to the treatment table. “I’ll tell you how it was explained to me.” He takes the clay pot containing the balm and rubs it over her shoulders and neck. Her little moans remind him how much he loves her. He massages circles, his need building with each one, more and more.
“Were they always bad?”
Eden brings him back to the present, and he takes a moment to compose himself. “My interpretation is the stories originated in the early 1700s, but I could be wrong. The shaman described the Watache tribe as being descendants of an ancestral tribe known as the Kariña—famous for their violence because they were not good communicators. The Ularans are descendants of the Pemón, and the Pemón, Macuxi, and Kariña tribes are all descendants of the same tribe from hundreds of years ago. But the folk tales say the Kariña didn’t develop the peaceful characteristics of the Pemón people. The Kariña believed they were the only ‘true’ people, and outsiders were considered unintelligent, animal-like, and inhuman if they didn’t speak the same language. The phonics differed between tribes, and this language barrier gave reason for the Kariña to believe other tribes were not human and were therefore dangerous and should be hunted. They hunted foreigners like animals and ate the flesh of people outside their tribe.”
“Oh my god.” She shakes her head.
He rests a hand on her shoulder for reassurance. “They believed eating their victim was magic, and it gave them a sense of spiritual power. The Kariña believed the person’s soul would remain in their body after consummation. Feeling indestructible, the Kariña would attack other tribes, accessing the villages by river. All tribes in the surrounding areas feared the Kariña, which, in return, gave them more power. In their mind, they were not eating other human beings as only actual people spoke the same language as them.”
“I can’t imagine ever having to eat another person,” she murmurs.
He moves to her front and massages the balm along her arms. “My point is they didn’t intentionally eat humans.”
She shrugs. “They decide someone isn’t human because they talk differently and yet they have the same appearance. It’s messed up.”
“No more so than anywhere else. We have more monsters in what we think is a civilized world. This happened centuries ago, and stories are interpreted by the listener. Fear stems from what you want to believe.”
Eden remains quiet for some time before she speaks again. “I’m thinking I should learn more Ularan words. Just the basics to help me get by when you’re not around. I tried before, but I struggle to get my tongue around some phonics.”
He chuckles lightly, and yet he’s delighted she wants to learn their dialect. “I’ll teach you a few more while I walk with you to the long house.”
Beneath his delight, a dark thought lingers in her wanting to learn the language for safety reasons. Until now, his concern for Eden’s well-being centered on her and their baby’s health. He’s aware their lives swing in a balance jeopardized by the things they can’t see. It goes without saying dreams play a major role in this unique world, and maybe he should listen to Eden as her dreams could be a voice alerting her to the future.
Because he’d never forgive himself if anything happened to her.
6
EDEN
Two Days Later…
Sweat drips from my brow like a leaky tap.
I lean the axe on the ground while I flick beads of sweat from my forehead. The sun has shone all morning, and in the field’s small clearing, I’ve relished the rays on my bare skin. I’ve removed the necklaces except for the one strand Kaikare made for me since all were too heavy for my shoulders and neck, especially with the added weight of Baby McMahon. Instead, I rely on my tangled locks to cover my breasts, but it fails, considering they have grown equally in size with my baby. How much I still care has surprised me. I’m fine here in the fields where many of the ladies, pregnant or not, don’t cover-up. Yet when I’m around the men, I feel exposed, so I wear the beads at dinner but not out here.
Kaikare and I follow the line of women with woven baskets on their heads. We gather in the long house for lunch. There’s a wild hunger in their eyes, and I hope the men will return with game to feed everyone in the village.
