Guacar!"
The shout was the first thing he heard as he was abruptly woken from his nap. Blinking his eyes open, the second thing he saw was his mother, Maji, standing before him with an irritated look, holding his younger brother in her arms.
"Matue, what are you doing here?!" Guacar asked, quickly adjusting his posture to make it seem as though he hadn't just been resting beneath the Yucan tree.
"I came to check on the harvest," Matue replied, her voice laced with disapproval. "And instead, I find you sleeping and ignoring your chores again."
"Come on, Matue, you said that if I finished the harvest early, you'd let me hunt with Baba," Guacar argued.
"That's for sons who do their chores properly," she countered.
"Okay, what if I finish half today and do the rest tomorrow?" Guacar bargained.
Matue pondered for a moment before sighing. "You won't skip out or try to weasel your way out of it?"
Guacar placed his hand over his heart. "I promise my ancestors that the crops will be done tomorrow."
She rolled her eyes, waving him away with exaggerated movements. "Get out of here."
Grinning, Guacar kissed her palm, grabbed his hunting lance, and sprinted toward the water path—the fastest way off the mountain.
It took him half an hour to reach the watering holes where his father and the other hunters gathered to catch their prey. He scanned the area, careful to stay silent, so as not to reveal his position to the fish. After several minutes of searching, he finally spotted the hunting party. They stood in a loose circle, their bodies forming a barrier over the water. Using the blunt side of his lance, he tapped one of the hunters. The man smirked and shifted slightly, allowing Guacar a better view inside the circle.
"So, how big is it?" Guacar asked.
"At least as big as an Aun," the hunter replied.
Excited, Guacar turned his gaze to the center of the group, where his father patiently hovered his lance over the water. A tense silence followed. Then, in the blink of an eye, his father struck downward with tremendous force, sending ripples across the surface. A wail of pain echoed as the creature thrashed wildly. Without hesitation, Kofi leaped onto its armored back, dagger in hand, searching for its weak points. The beast retaliated, attempting to stab him with its sharp back spines, but Kofi repositioned himself with practiced skill. Guacar knew that any other hunter would have fallen by now.
After a tense struggle, Kofi finally found the creature's weak spot. With three precise stabs, he punctured a hole in its neck. However, before he could finish it off, the wounded beast let out a pained cry and submerged itself, thrashing in desperation. It used the nearby rocks in an attempt to crush Kofi against them, but he held firm. Then, in one final movement, he drove his lance deep into the wound, piercing through the creature's throat. As its strength faded, its body floated lifelessly to the surface alongside him.
The hunters erupted in cheers, their war cries ringing through the air. Guacar ran to embrace his father.
"Baba! That was your best hunt yet!" he exclaimed, excitement clear in his voice.
Kofi chuckled, patting his son's head. Using his spear as a cane, he walked with the rest of the hunters toward the shore. As the sky darkened into shades of yellow and orange, the distant calls of coquis filled the air. Guacar always loved this part of the evening—it felt as though the creatures were welcoming them home.
As they ventured deeper into the woods, Guacar glanced at his father. The transformation always struck him as strange. In battle, he was a force of nature, exuding an aura of dominance and strength, every movement precise and commanding, his presence almost larger than life. But the moment the hunt ended, that energy seemed to fade. It wasn't physical—his stature remained the same—but something in his essence shifted. The intensity in his eyes dimmed, his posture relaxed, and the air of quiet authority that surrounded him in the wild dissipated. He became just another villager, a healer, a man who spoke softly and moved without the weight of his warrior's presence. It unsettled Guacar, but like always, he dismissed the thought and hurried along.
When they finally arrived home, Guacar attempted to drag the slain animal by himself, though it was far too heavy. The hunters laughed at his efforts before Kofi nodded, and they saluted him one by one before departing. With a sigh, Kofi placed his hands on the animal, helping to push its body inside the house. Together, they dragged it all the way to the backyard before bumping fists in celebration.
Maji emerged from the kitchen to greet them with a Matun—a traditional gesture where she held their foreheads close while placing a hand at the back of their heads, her thumb tucked in. She lingered with Kofi for thirty seconds before repeating the gesture with Guacar. Then, she sat at the table, waiting for them to join her and recount the details of the hunt.
They spoke for a while before Maji instructed Guacar to help her prepare the meal alongside his little sister, Maroca. As they sliced the stomach into sections, Maji took the pieces and placed them into a pan. Meanwhile, their younger brother, Dumay, attempted to set the table. Eventually, Kofi stepped in to assist him, and soon, the food was served in bone bowls. They ate, laughed, and bickered as they always did.
Later that night, Guacar took the twins to their hamacas. As he passed by, he heard his parents discussing something in hushed tones. Something told him that whatever they were talking about, was important. He did not make his presence known.