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  Copyright @ 2020 by Sam Puma

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  Printed and published in the United States of America by Starpuma Press.

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  For the wisdom keepers and herbalists of the Amazon jungle

  Wanderlust

  Jankaro wrapped his dark brown legs around a bowing tree branch, dangled upside down and reached for the ground. He scooped his hands beneath the leaves and debris of the jungle floor as he watched a spindly, jade lizard with a cedar head, lurching his way. He grinned and barely contained his laughter as the lizard crawled right over his hands without noticing the threat of capture, tickling his fingers with its tiny feet. In his younger years, he would have captured it and played with it, or taken it home for a pet. But these days he got a rush of amusement out of playing a trick on the little creature. As it passed, he gently pinched the end of its tail and it ran off as fast as it could. A loud snicker escaped his lips as he planted his hands and flopped down into a crouch on the ground.

  To his right he saw a cluster of purple flowers growing from a small bush. He soaked in their subtle perfume and thought of his friend Kiara back at the village. He gathered a small bundle of buds for her, tucking them into his belt.

  A sharp pain rang out in the back of his head and he whirled around to confront the assailant. He looked up into the trees and saw Chesta pointing and calling out “hoo hoo hoo” with bulging eyes. He picked up a hefty seed and fired it back at the white gibbon, but missed. Chesta stretched out his arms and shrugged as if he were innocent. Jankaro leapt up and grabbed the nearest tree branch. He swung from one branch to the next, moving his body like the gibbons had shown him over the years.

  Chesta could easily outpace Jankaro but he swung from branch to branch slowly as a crafty attempt to stay just out of reach. “I’m going to get you!” Jankaro growled, but the gibbon just hooed as he flew across a divide that he knew Jankaro could not jump.

  Jankaro tried the jump anyway, but fell short and landed face first on the ground. He dusted himself off, brushed his shaggy black bangs out of his eyes and looked up expecting to see Chesta taunting him. He looked around but the gibbon was gone. The sun was setting and the mosquitoes were biting, but he was surprised that Chesta would leave for the night without taunting Jankaro’s folly with wide-eyed glee.

  Jankaro was about to head back to the village when he noticed a peculiar scent hanging in the air. He looked to his left and was struck by an immense pair of glowing eyes that gazed at him in the twilight through the cover of dense foliage. It was so dark in the shadows of the trees and bushes that it was hard to see the creature behind the eyes. He examined them in wild wonder, noticing they were the same shape as the eyes of a jaguar. Its head seemed enormous; larger than his torso. He thought he saw its tremendous teeth and heard a slight rumbling sound as it exhaled. It careened toward him. His heart felt like it might leap out of his chest with fear, and his mind froze solid as his legs took flight of their own volition.

  He sprinted hard and fast, and after a few minutes he paused and looked around only to find himself alone and trembling, sweat pouring down his brow and dripping off the end of his nose. In the faintest remaining twilight he was lucky to notice a fallen tree that he recognized, and from there he was able to find a connection to the familiar network of pathways that led him back to the village.

  He saw the village’s torchlight glimmer through the last drop of disappearing sun. As he approached he encountered his uncle Rongo, carrying a tortoise under his arm. Rongo looked down at the few remaining flowers tucked under Jankaro’s belt. “Those are Lintai. You can make a tea from them if you are having bad dreams at night and they will calm your sleep.”

  “I thought Kiara might like them.”

  “The scent will soothe her. Now get home quick so your father doesn’t have to worry about you.” Jankaro bid good night to his uncle and stopped by the hut where Kiara lived. She was sitting inside, caressing the soft fur of her three-legged ocelot, a gift from her stepmother. He gave her the flowers and she accepted them with a smile. She took a long inhale of their sweet fragrance, and smiled with her eyes.

  Jorobai sat on a stump outside his hut and sipped from a cup of masato as the final remnants of daylight faded from the sky. The brew failed to lift his spirits as he shook his head and grumbled to himself. “Damn kid. He’s too old for these games. We should have initiated him last year.”

  As he stood up and reached over to rub his sore shoulder, Jankaro came striding out of the shadows. “Jorobai, you’ll never guess what I saw!”

  “I told you not to stay out after dark alone. It’s dangerous out there.” Jorobai clenched his teeth and lifted his hand as if he were about to backhand Jankaro across the face. “You know what I ought to do…”

  “Aw come on Jorobai, you haven’t hit me since I left that snake under your pillow five years ago.” Like Jorobai and Rongo, Jankaro was short and his nose was broad. He jumped the last three steps to be at his father’s side. “I saw…”

  “I don’t care what you saw!” Jorobai’s nose flattened against his face as he glared at Jankaro with smoky brown eyes, hardened with age. “Every day you see something new during your fruitless wanderings. You need to stay here to help the village.”

  “What do you mean? I help you every day.”

  “You help for a little while and then you run off into the jungle to explore. I’m sick of being the father of an overgrown manchild. The time has come for you to build your own hut and tend your own garden.” Jorobai gestured the village away from his hut.

  “But…” Jankaro wanted to protest but he knew that his body was becoming the body of a man, and his father was right.

  “I’ll help you build it tomorrow,” said Jorobai. “Rongo will help too.”

  “We’ll build it the day after tomorrow. I need one more day in the jungle to see the Ashtari.”

  “Ashtari?! The last of them was killed long ago. You must have seen a jaguar. That’s why we don’t go roaming around out there alone at night. It’s not safe. You’re lucky you didn’t get eaten. Tomorrow I’ll wake you up early and we’ll get to work on that hut. Now get inside, your grilled fish is getting cold.”

  “But…” Jankaro began to protest but held back as he realized it would be better to feign compliance. “Yes father.” He followed his father into the hut, sat down at the table and took a bite of fish. It tasted the same as it had tasted his whole life, but he wanted to taste something new. “Tomorrow we will build a hut.”

  All through the night a fire burned in Jankaro’s gut that prevented him from getting more than a few winks of sleep. He needed to see the ominous creature again, but in the daylight. There was no other thought in his mind, and no other impulse in his flesh. When the first hint of dawn arrived, he packed some food, his trusted knife, a torch, a blowgun and five darts dipped in enough jalaca oil to kill a monkey or put a jaguar to sleep. He was lucky to awaken before Jorobai, who slept late on account of the previous evening’s indulgence in masato.

  “Where are you going?” Jorobai rubbed his eyes as Jankaro threw his pack over his shoulder and headed out the door.

  “I’ll be right back.”

  “For Sagaya’s sake, you�
��re fifteen. You’re too old for this!” Jorobai rose and stepped to the doorway. Jankaro was already off and running into the jungle. “Get back here! We’re building your hut today!” He called out in vain as Jankaro disappeared in the trees.

  Jankaro quickly forgot about Jorobai as he hustled through the familiar terrain for a couple hours to put the village behind him. Around late morning he reached the fallen log from the night before and stopped for breakfast: yucca crunch and a ripe mango.

  He took a deep breath of the fresh forest air and looked around. He watched a hummingbird with a flush pink throat and shimmering green and blue feathers dip its long, curved beak into a crimson parrot flower. A viridian woodlizard crawled up onto the log a few feet away from him. When he reached out to touch the short spikes on the back of its neck it darted away before he could reach it. He wondered how amazing it would be to see an Ashtari on his last day of freedom from a man’s responsibilities. He longed to behold the mythical creature in the light, and continued his trek into less familiar regions of the jungle. He bypassed his normal curiosities and games to focus on searching for tracks or any other signs of Ashtari activity. Along the way he would occasionally leave markers by piling up stones and tying vines around tree trunks so he could quickly and easily find his way home.

  Eventually he arrived at the Irumi River, which he had never crossed. It was wider than any other river he knew. From one side to the other, it was wider than the entire village of Olaya. It beckoned him, and he felt compelled to cross. He gathered a few logs, tied them together with vines, carved a crude oar with his knife, and set off floating across the water. He looked down into the water as he paddled across, and saw many fish whose names escaped him. He saw snakes and crocodiles, bigger than any he had encountered in the other rivers he knew. He wanted to catch them, but he had another purpose. Upon reaching the other side, he pulled his raft up on the shore and began his exploration of the jungle on the other side.

  He cast his senses in every direction like Rongo had taught him. When he noticed that the sun had passed its apex and was over an hour into its descent, he figured it might be best to head for home soon. He decided to trek for just one hour more, to pick up the pace and leave less frequent markings on the trees so that he could cover more territory.

  As he meandered through the jungle he noticed the unfamiliar hum of flowers, lizards, snakes, butterflies, trees, stones, and birds. It was a thrill and he wished he could stay longer. He fantasized about residing in the jungle, surviving on his own, and abandoning his duties back home. But he knew Jorobai was right. It was too dangerous. So he swallowed hard, heaved a reluctant sigh, turned around and hastened for home.

  After an hour he realized that he hadn’t seen any of his markings for a while. He figured there wasn’t enough time to search for them, so he decided to simply follow his instincts and proceed in the direction from which he came, using the sun as a guide.

  When he reached the Irumi, he could not find his raft. He looked as far as he could in one direction, and as far as he could in the other, but it was nowhere to be found. He searched for a little while longer in each direction. He looked down long stretches of the riverbank but still he could not find it.

  Noticing there were plenty of logs scattered about, he hastily built another raft and set off back across the river. Along the way a massive crocodile swam just below the surface of the water toward his raft. His blood rushed in his veins, and he drove it away with a few swift jabs into the top if its head with his knife.

  Back on his side of the river, the scenery did not look familiar. But he wasn’t too concerned, considering the entire section of jungle around the river was mostly new to him. He looked up at the sun, closed his eyes and probed his intuitive sense of direction. He thought he could feel which way was home. He had been exploring the jungle all around the village for many years. When he trusted his instincts, he found his way.

  After trekking for another couple of hours, he cursed his luck and worried that he might not make it home before nightfall. He still had not made it back to familiar territory, and it was late in the afternoon; the sun would set soon. He thought if he could reach a familiar section of the jungle before sunset, he could complete his journey home in the dark with the help of his torch. It was not the safest way to travel but it seemed to be his best option. His father would most likely be angry, but surely he would come to understand and forgive him, just like he always did.

  As the sun dropped toward the horizon and the clouds showed myriad tones of pink and orange, Jankaro reached a large clearing where only grass and flowers grew. He walked into the clearing and felt alone without the trees around him. He wondered if he would have to spend the night in the jungle. All this novelty piqued his curiosity but he had heard too many tales that ended in disappearance, dismemberment and death.

  Suddenly, he heard a great crashing sound from among the trees on the opposite side of the clearing. He held his breath, waited, and watched in trepidation as the smaller trees bent and collapsed under a great weight. A giant creature emerged. It entered the clearing some distance away. He had found the one he sought.

  The Ashtari, the mighty cat that was said to be no more, must have been twice his height and twice that in length. Jankaro had caught rare glimpses of the jaguars and pumas of the jungle. When he was a little boy he saw his uncle Rongo kill an old jaguar that came into the village and tried to hunt a young child. This beast, that his father claimed no longer existed, was truly a giant compared to all of them. It was the one he encountered the night before. He could tell by the look in its eyes, a flash of recognition. He wondered if it had come in search of him.

  The Ashtari radiated power and ferocity. It had short, tan fur with red-orange stripes all along its body, revealing the contours of its rich and complex muscle tone. Its tail was long, with a tuft of longer crimson fur at the end. Its skull was large, and its mouth hung slightly agape to reveal his giant fangs. Its face and shoulders bore many scars. Its amber eyes shone with a wisdom and ferocity that seemed to date back centuries, through many battles with opponents Jankaro could only imagine. Its most distinctive feature was a single blue stripe of fur that originated at a precise point between his eyes, widening as it reached its crown, and stretching all the way down its neck and back, tapering down again as it reached its tail. Jankaro could see it was a male. The stripe, along with his tremendous size, distinguished him from all other breeds of jungle cat. If the jaguars were kings, he was their god.

  Jankaro heard a low rumble every time the Ashtari exhaled. He retained his fascination and curiosity, and was spellbound by the grandeur of the mythical beast. At the same time he felt an ever-growing fear of the power it could potentially unleash. The Ashtari slowly dropped into a slight crouch, and his eyes leveled upon Jankaro as he sauntered over. Jankaro flexed his knees, furrowed his brow as he focused his attention upon it, and began to slowly move to his left. They faced one another and began to circle around the clearing. As they circled, the great beast gradually closed the distance between them. Soon they were within a canoe’s length of each other and Jankaro drew his knife. In response, the Ashtari paused, looked into his eyes, lifted his front paw and extended four sharp claws.

  Jankaro trembled in fear as the wind brushed his hair across his forehead and backed away from the beast toward the edge of the clearing. The Ashtari moved directly toward him as their eyes remained locked. He thought of running away. To the village or to the great river, he wondered what would be the safest path. The Ashtari’s lower jaw dropped further down and the rumbling from its breath grew louder. As Jankaro reached the treeline, the Ashtari was directly in front of him; any closer and he could reach him with a swing of his paw.

  When Jankaro’s fear became unmanageable, he turned and ran. The Ashtari let out a deafening roar and ran after him, crashing through the jungle and crushing plants and small creatures beneath him. He closed the gap rapidly and b
reathed down Jankaro’s neck. Jankaro clutched his knife with white knuckles and prepared to turn and fight for his life.

  Suddenly the earth collapsed beneath his feet and he fell. He crashed into earthen walls and grasped at roots as he tumbled and rolled down into darkness. He fell freely for a moment, then plummeted to the ground. Dust scattered in the air as he coughed and balanced on his wobbly knees, gasping for air. He heard a roar from the Ashtari above and it reached down toward him. Its paw came close to his head with claws ravenously extended. He laid flat on the ground to escape its reach. The paw wriggled in the narrow hole and fished around, but could not reach him. For a few minutes it flailed about as Jankaro backed against the wall of the pit, a safe distance from the Ashtari’s reach.

  After trying every angle without success, the paw retracted. Jankaro heard a series of roars from above, and after a while it grew quiet. Perhaps the Ashtari had given up, but Jankaro figured it was lurking close by, waiting to see if he would dare pop his head back out of the hole.

  The enclosure was pitch black but for a fading stream of twilight from above. The exit was at least two canoes up and out of reach. He tried to climb the walls, but they crumbled in his hands. There was no way out unless someone threw down a rope from above.

  He took some time to calm down and think. He knew that Jorobai would come searching for him. He would get Rongo and they would track him and find him. But he knew they would have a slim chance of finding him before the sunlight returned the next day.

  He had two options. One would be to just wait until his father came to find him. But being so far away from home it might take them more than a day and he didn’t like the idea of waiting in a dark hole where predators could be lurking. He decided that his best option would be to light his torch, find another way out and run home.

  In the torchlight he saw a round cave that led away from the pit into which he had fallen. He had to crouch to keep his head from bumping the top of the cave as it led him deeper below the surface of the earth. He walked for several minutes in silence. His only companions were the spiders and their webs that clung to his skin as he pushed through them.