Page 3 of Hunter's Mission

“Thank you, Amazon gods.” I swept my gaze skyward just in time to witness a toucan with a bright orange beak land on a branch above us. I reached for my camera.Damn, I didn’t bring it.Then again, I probably already had two hundred photos of toucans from just the first three months of my posting down here.

Aiming for our prize, Cody climbed over the gnarly bushes like a stalk. I barged through them like a bulldozer.

Cody had sliced off a bunch of berries by the time I reached him. The berries grew like grapes in compact bunches, and seemed to flourish at a height that was just beyond my reach. Lucky for me, Cody was both tall and a willing participant in my research.

“Finally,” I said as I stepped beside him. I peeled my pack off my back and removed the sturdy plastic storage bag inside. Cody fed the berries into the bag like they were precious little babies.

As he reached for more berries, a tiny sound penetrated the jungle. I cocked my head, straining to hear what it was.

There . . . is that whimpering?

“Cody,” I whispered. “Do you hear that? Sounds like someone crying.”

Pausing with a bunch of berries in his hands, he blinked at me through glasses that had slipped down his nose. His mouth fell open, and he nodded.

Shit!

We scanned the area, then turned back to each other shaking our heads.

The jungle natives were the only humans for thousands of miles around, yet the mournful sobbing sounded like a woman. Maybe it was an animal or insect that I’d never heard before. That would make sense. In this rainforest, there were over one thousand different species of frog alone.

Cody and I exchanged a look of confusion.

I leaned into his ear and whispered, “Sounds like a woman crying.”

“That’s what I thought.” He nodded.

“We need to find out and see if she’s okay.”

“Of course.” He quickly cut away the last of the berries and secured them in my bag.

I swung the pack onto my back and connected the clips around my waist. Stepping over gnarled roots and dodging low-hanging vines, I led Cody toward the sound.

As the weeping grew louder, my mind raced with confusion and worry. The tribal women were very private. Using Cody’s interpretation skills, I had tried to communicate with them a few times. I was fascinated by how they survived out here in the middle of this primitive jungle and in particular, I was keen to learn what natural medicines they used. Some of the women willingly shared their way of life and seemed equally curious about me.

But the men made it known that they did not approve of my meddling or my interruption in the women’s chores. Out here, the women had to breed, raise children, and do extremely onerous work, yet they didn’t complain. They did what generations of women since the dawn of time had done. They didn’t know any other way of life, and I had no intention of trying to change that.

Maybe oblivion is a blissful avenue to happiness.

I shoved through a bush with soft, wet leaves and stumbled upon Yamania, a tribal woman I had spoken to a few times, kneeling next to the lifeless body of a native man.

Yamania’s face was etched with pain and anger, and her left eye was swollen and bruised.

“Yamania,” I spoke softly, careful not to startle her.

Her gaze snapped to me, and her eyes narrowed, heavy with suspicion. The native man's body lay contorted on the ground. Vomit speckled his chin and the dead leaves on the ground in front of him.

Yamania had tribal tattoos on her cheeks and chin. Green feathers were threaded through her ears and a thin stick was pierced through her nose. She wore nothing but a leather cloth around her waist and a necklace made of animal teeth.

“Só quar!” she shouted, her voice hoarse and angry.

“What did she say?” I asked Cody.

“Stay away.”

“Please, Yamania.” I stepped over a small bush toward her. “Tell her we just want to help.”

Cody translated, walking forward a few paces. His fluency in the native language was impressive and his hand movements proved he was trying to calm her down.

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