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Squinting in pain, I want to call out to put me down. The bumpy ride creates a sharp vibration in my skull. Before I do I make out three figures ahead, their red-painted bodies, and then recall following Kapeá Tapire before being surrounded by these men.
A whimper escapes my throat, and I quickly smother it before I scream.Shit. Shit. Shit.Are they Watache?
I’m so bloody scared right now.
What am I going to do? My thoughts cloud as fear builds inside of me.
How am I going to escape? My gut is tight with panic and I’m breathing so fast it feels like I’m not getting any air.
My hand goes to my stomach and rubs reassuringly over the reason why I can’t lose my shit.
I need to protect my baby.
Closing my eyes, I focus on slowing each breath. At this rate, I’ll soon need a paper bag.
A single sob blurts out of me, and one of the men jogging ahead turns, and I duck before he sees I’m awake.
Thump.
Did someone just punch from underneath me?
God, my head is killing me.
I gently touch the side of my head and check my fingers for blood. It’s sticky, and after dabbing my hair, I hope the bleeding has slowed. How long was I unconscious?
I should have stayed with Kaikare in the fields. No matter how scared I am I can’t change the fact I’m in a situation and I need a plan.
To save my baby, I have to stay alive.
I can’t escape. I couldn’t take them on, and if I tried, well, then what? Even with a million-to-one chance of defeating these trained warriors, I’d be left to find my way home.
Think.
Assess.
As rough as the journey is, it’s better than being slung like an animal to a pole or forced to walk endless miles. The only reassurance is Samuelwillcome looking for me. Until then, I need to stay alive and not do anything to provoke them.
Cannibals.
The explanation Samuel gave comes back to me.
Jesus.
Fear bubbles to the surface and disperses in waves over my body. A single quiver, then one after the other, and I can’t control it. I’m curled on my side. My head bounces on one arm, the other under my stomach for support. My vision blurs with tears. Trees pass, one by one, nothing out of the ordinary, and nothing noteworthy to identify my location.
In a slow movement, I raise my leg to assess a sting on my calf. It’s red from a graze, and my beaded anklet is gone.
Beads.
I touch the single strand of painted yellow and red beads on my chest.
Slowly, I rise onto an elbow and look around. Three men walk ahead of the men carrying me on their shoulders. No one walks behind.
Lifting the beads over my head, I pry the knotted ends apart with my teeth, slide several beads off the twine, and in a subtle movement, I throw one high in the air behind the canoe the men are carrying me in. I wait for the sound of it hitting a tree or the ground.
Nothing
And I couldn’t be more grateful to the squawking creatures surrounding us. I wait for what seems like minutes before I toss another. It needs to be more strategic, so I count to five hundred before throwing the next and visualize Samuel finding the bead.
