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Breathe… Keep breathing… A pair of eyes open as a bloodstained hand pushes past some hanging brambles with intensity; his curled fingers partly staining them crimson. Words flow through a boy’s head as he pushes through the foliage of the dense jungle. I'm so stupid! What was I thinking? His exposed side stings worse than any punishment injected by the most diabolical of hornets. Intimidating those savages, stealing their fetish.. I have to breathe, have to keep breathing! I don't want to die.. He curses himself for leaving the fetish.. he curses the kin of his other half, he doesn't care about "lineage" or "purity" or any of that inane pretentious rubbish; all he feels is spiteful vitriol towards them for daring to attack him, despite it being his fault that they became hostile in the first place.
The frantic boy clutches a plant in his left hand as his crumbly body falls forward onto the damp grass. He screams in agony as he keeps his torso upwards with his shoulder. He quickly squeezes the plant as he holds it up against his bleeding side. The boy is enraged beyond belief at the unfairness of his life, dragging himself away from a collection of brambles and bushes. His whole life.. insulted by those around him.. cholo, half-caste, mestizo, bastard, half-breed.. Only seen as useful for his ability to speak the natives’ tongue. A part of the boy hopes that Walker dies in pain while keeping himself breathing by thinking about that arrogant British fool’s smug smile when he first asked the boy to help communicate with the Arumbayas.
If Mister Walker escapes then he'll have the fetish! The gem inside! He’ll be the one who gains incalculable wealth while the boy perishes cold, scared, and alone in the rainforest. Despite the grass burns and arrow hole, he manages to gain his footing and quickly begins to sprint down the hill, praying that he doesn't trip. The flowing of water.. he can hear it.. Yes! He's saved! Pushing past the creepers he uncovers the long serpentine river. Without thinking he rushes forwards and begins to swallow the water, spitting out the mud and sand while trying to keep himself breathing quickly and frequently.
After vomiting into the riverbank, the boy stumbles backwards and puts his back up against a nearby vine-covered tree, its bark scraping against his cotton shirt. The pain is unbearable. He almost begs for death now.. death.. He knows that nobody is going to come to save him, at best they’ll find his body.
His body! The boy’s eyes light up as he begins to frantically search his pockets, succeeding in finding a ripped square of paper. Arumbayas.. I am dying… The wee lad begins to cry as the realization of what that statement truly means sinks in. Walker expedition… The boy winces in agony as sweat drips down his head; the curare and the cure fighting against each other within his insides. They have to know. He needs them to know of their ticket to endless riches. The diamond in the fetish… the broken ear…
Family! His family has to- needs to know it's for them. Not anyone else! Not Mister Walker! Not the Arumbayas! Them!
Lopez…
The boy’s eyes shut almost instantly, the last thing he can think about is the omelettes his mama cooked for him back in the village.
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The shadow is strewn away by the sharp sliver of morning sunlight. Lopez slowly opens his eyes, grabbing his forehead as he woozily observes his surroundings. He's still sitting in the same place that he collapsed at last night. He survived.
“I- I- I’m a-alive…” Lopez begins to chuckle to himself. It seems that fate is on his side of all people, nobody else; now all he needs to do is find the fetish.