6 comments/ 13312 views/ 1 favorites Brazilian Hearts By: Chagrined To the reader : Some have written to say they think that I attribute some Western ideas into Peter and Maria's stories and motivations. Except for Peter himself, I can assure the reader I have not. Everything you are about to read is authentic. From the words to the motivations to certain aspects of the ayahuasca, they remain just as they were relayed to me. I am just a humble teller of stories. Again the warning: if you are looking for a mindless stroke story, pass my writings on by. But, if you are looking for a tale of captured love in an exotic land, read on. There is nothing new here; just a tale as timeless as humanity itself. My thanks to my muse, Lizabeth. meu coração brasileiro. Once again, many, many thanks for her patience to my editor-in-waiting, LadyCibelle Brazilian Hearts (Corações Brasileiros) By Chagrined Only as a warrior can one survive the path of knowledge, because the art of a warrior is to balance the terror of being a man with the wonder of being a man. Carlos Castaneda Teachings of Don Juan The crash was louder than I had expected. With one hand I grabbed for the first available rag and tried to erase the evidence before discovery. It was a wasted effort. The black liquid had already begun its winding journey to the floor. I set the cup down and stepped over the kitchen sink and wetted a dishcloth minha cara kept there for just such emergencies. I was busily swiping the floor and cursing when the discovery was made. "Peter? Peter, what are you doing in my kitchen?" a soft accented voice floated from the living room. So it was her kitchen now? I paid the bills and the rent; well, some of the bills and rent. Her translating and tour service is actually quite lucrative, owing to a large Brazilian community in the area. But, still, I am the man after all! "Nothing, just had a bit of an accident is all." I replied with feigned nonchalance. "Did you tip over the coffee pot again?" She called back from her perch on the couch. "I told you that the space was too small to mount it there." From the safety of the next room I stuck my tongue out in her direction as a gesture of manly defiance. "I can think of better uses for that, meu caro," she commented. How could she have seen that? I splashed the last bit of Coffee Mate into my cup and stirred it to the right consistency and color; an important ritual which few people can appreciate. I placed the empty carton back in the refrigerator. I would need to remember to stop and get more tomorrow. Retrieving my cup, I padded into the adjacent living room where my wife, Maria, was sitting on the sofa. Her feet rested on a throw pillow sitting on the table in front of her. I walked up behind her and kissed her ear. Again I could smell the heady fragrance of her hair. Everywhere she goes the essence of Maria's exotic homeland follows her. She sighed contentedly from her perch. I started to come around front to join her on the sofa. "Peter, rub my feet," she implored, pointing to the pillow. I eased myself on the floor and set the coffee on the table. My knees cracked in a loud complaint. Going down was easy; getting back up was the hard part at my age. I took one small callused foot and began to massage it. On her lap she had a small shoe box filled with old photos. "What is that you have there?" I asked. "Photos from my mother; I want to put them all together in a book for the baby," came her reply. Maria was three months pregnant and already the nesting instinct was raging within her. She had sorted some into neat piles already. I could tell that some were fairly recent while others were very old and somewhat faded and still more had a sepia tone to them. Idly, I focused on one black and white photo and picked it up. Portrayed there was a dark-haired woman wearing a full skirt and the short sleeve blouse of the type we in America often referred to as a peasant blouse. She was young, perhaps barely twenty years of age, when the photo had been taken. The figure was lush and round, her breasts full, legs well shaped but fleshy. I couldn't make out any color but she was probably a morena and I would have bet the hair was black. It was worn long and draped over her shoulders. There was a vague familiar quality to it. "Who is this, cara?" I asked. Maria glanced at the photo. "That's my mother, meu caro." I made a mental note not to open a detective agency. "When was this taken?" I inquired. "Hmmm, 1962, I think." She went back to her work. I continued my ministrations until she set down another pile. On the top was a very old photo of a man scowling at the camera. He was slender with the soft frame which so often hid the tight whipcord strength of the Brazilian Indian people. His hair was lighter than most, his eyes fierce as he gazed at the photo clearly displeased. He was draped in dark cut off slacks and a worn button shirt. A shiver went through me as his eyes bore through mine. This could be a very nasty customer, I thought. "Darling, who is this guy? A Brazilian headhunter?" I asked flippantly. Maria looked at the object in my hand. "No, that is my mother's father, meu avô." "Why is he looking so angry?" "Because his spirit has just been stolen," She explained. "You're shitting me?" What crazy things people can come up with? She looked at me, irritated. "Please don't speak that way around the baby. He can hear you," she admonished. "Back then, some people did not understand about photos, especially the forest people. They believed that the photo was actually their spirit taken from them. That photo was the reason he married my grandmother." I looked back at the faded sepia tone. "Jesus, I would hate to have met up with him in the jungle." Maria laughed. "No, Peter, he isn't the one to fear. His wife was." I frowned at the photo. "His wife is your grandmother?" Maria nodded and begun digging badger-like into the shoebox. I looked at the photo again. "What is your avó, a jaguar?" It was hard to believe anything would be scarier that this scowling face. She came back up for air holding yet another faded sepia photo. "Here. This is she. My avó." The photo she handed was even more old and faded but the centerpiece was as timeless as the sphinx. It showed an Indian woman of indeterminate age. She was naked from the waist down and the full skirt, which circled her hips, was tied in such away that it exposed a length of smooth thigh. Her breasts were small but round and firm. The hair was as dark as my Maria's and kept in place by a bandana tired around her head. The overall effect was quite erotic and for a moment my loins stirred. This was woman: primal, desirable and ripe. "Wow! This is your grandmother? And you say that she was more dangerous than gramps here? How was that?" "Sim. minha avó was a feiticeira or bruxa, how do you say? A witch?" She informed me. I considered the photo still in my hand. The power emanating from the image of this woman was almost palpable. She would have held much influence in her time. I looked to my Maria; the resemblance was there. "Yeah, that is the word. Is there a difference between a feiticeira and a bruxa, minha cara?" Maria looked up and smiled. "Feiticeira is more sweet, like me," she chirped and then blew me a kiss. Over the time we have spent together, my Maria has given me quite a few surprises. But this revelation was a bit over the top. I picked up the photo of Maria's grandfather. He was still scowling at me. "And you say that this picture was the reason they met?" "Yes. It is an old family story. He had to get his sprit back from the spirit world. He went to minha avó family to get it back. Her father was a pahé, a man of great power to his people and she was a witch as was my mother and as am I. Now, hand me the box cover." I sat up. "Oh, no! I want to hear this! You are a bruxa? " I demanded. "No, I am your feiticeira, meu caro," she corrected. "Whatever. Tell me the story!" Maria laughed. "Oh, Peter you are an engineer and an educated man. You do not wish to hear the old tales of forest people," she retorted. I didn't have the heart to tell her my major in college was anthropology. "Hey, you have just told me that the woman of my dreams is a witch. I think I deserve to know the details." She looked at me hesitantly. "Are you sure you want to hear this? It is just a tale passed from family member to family member. It maybe isn't true." He eyes told me she believed it was. "I'll take the chance. Tell me," I demanded. She looked at me reproachfully. "And you won't interrupt?" As I said it, I did it. "Cross my heart, xu xu." Xu Xu, pronounced "shoo shoo" is a term I had taken to using with her lately meaning roughly "girlfriend". It made her feel younger; anything to keep peace in the family. "Well," she began, "years ago there was a man…" "Shouldn't this start with 'It was a dark and stormy night?'" I interjected. "Peter! If you are going to make fun I will stop now! Are you interested or not?" she asked reprovingly. I grinned and held up my hands in surrender. "Okay, okay. I just wanted to add a little atmosphere." "Well," she began again, glaring at me, "years ago there was a man who would come to the forests to hunt, to capture the animals for the zoos. He was very famous and used to make films of his trips. Well, one day he comes to the jungle…… ********************************** 1933 Rio Negro River Area Upper Brazil The day was wearing and hot. José trudged after the crazy American patrão toward the river side. Behind him trailed a short progression of bearers carrying the cages and sacks used to transport the animals caught. They were empty save a small one which held a young jaguar. José prayed to the Blessed Virgin that the mother did not happen along before he had the opportunity to leave with the day's pay. He could not understand this desire to take animals away to live in some foreign land. Didn't they have animals of their own? At least this crazy American guia wanted to bring them back alive and not a carcass with which he could brag to his friends about how he had killed the fierce beast in mortal combat But still, he believed it was contrary to nature. The animals that populated this land had been born here, lived in here in balance with the land here. From the boa, prequica, onca the jaguar, all had been designed to live here along the banks of the Rio Negro. If others wanted to see them let them come here. José had no problem with that, but to take them away from their homeland, well, he was not certain of it. He labored along through heat and moisture. José stopped short as the crazy man stepped from the path to a tangle of vines which had captured his attention. José caught a hint of movement and yelled at the man but he ignored the warning, reaching into the mass of vines. Despite its size the snake struck with blinding speed and gripped the man on the forearm. The weight of the anaconda tried to bear the man down but he was miraculously able to stay on his feet. The snake instinctively tried to loop a great coil around the struggling man as José yelled back at the remaining men for help. José grabbed the straining coils and wrestled it back. The other men poured around the struggle, each grabbing to restrain the huge reptile. Three of the porters came to the head and pried away at the mouth in an attempt to loosen the anchoring grip. After long minutes the mouth released its prize and the American guia fell back clutching at the injured arm. José ordered two porters to retrieve a large sack. The native hunter-tracker then turned his attention back to helping the other men to subdue the creature still intent on obtaining a meal. Ten men now struggled with the beast each making sure not to become trapped in a coil. The returning porters rushed back and began the process of getting the snake into it. Soon it was bagged and secured. José motioned to the rear of the train and the capture was sent back to camp. The American was looking at his arm. The anaconda had left several teeth embedded into the arm. The cameraman was busy taking a moving picture record of the wound. The American looked up and saw José and called out to him. José approached, uncertain of what the man wanted and watching the man with a camera warily. José did not trust the strange box and wanted to keep a wide berth of it. The American said something in his gibberish. The head porter looked at José and translated. "The chefe Buck says you saved his life. He is happy with you. You will get a bonus." José shrugged. "If the stupid man would do as we have told him it would not have been necessary. His stupidity will get someone killed." The porter translated that José was very pleased to be of help. The American went on for some small time and motioned for the man with the magic box to come close. José backed away. The American motioned him closer. "The chefe Buck wants to take your picture. He says it will be good way to remember the man who saved his life," the chief porter explained. "You will be famous and an important man back in his native country." José shook his head guardedly. The two men talked some more and the American seemed agitated. Presently the porter turned again and said, "The chefe wants you to have the magic box take your image. I explained that you know that the box will steal your spirit but he says that is nonsense. He says that if you do not stand in front of the box he will not pay you at all today." José needed the money. He had to accept. The photographer came up holding a Kodak Brownie Special No. 2. José could do nothing but glare as the man took his spirit. Joachim, one of the lead bearer's came up and laid his hand on José's shoulder. They were from the same village and had known one another since childhood. "Now you will have to go and retrieve your spirit" Joachim observed. "There is a witch man, a pahé, in a village about an hours walk from camp. Tonight we will go to and speak with him about what can be done." Still glaring in the direction of the American who's life he had saved, José nodded his agreement. How can one repay a dept by stealing the spirit from a man? Perhaps the American had no honor, or he was stupid and did not know of this but everyone knew the purpose of the magic box. His father had warned him about this and these people. To his father the Norte Americano's and Europeans could not be trusted. They brought disharmony and disease to the people. Someday they would come and take the lands well, leaving the people with nothing. Shaking his head, José moved off and away from the main group. The rest of the day was spent in chasing down parrots and monkeys. A leopard had been spotted but had escaped into the jungle and the trail lost. José busied himself with obtaining meat for the young jaguar and worrying over his missing spirit. If it was not retrieved soon, José would develop the wasting disease and die over the next few months. His physical body would be unable to continue without the spirit body present to sustain it. His dreams of the life in the city would die with it. An uneducated man, he had lived in the Rio Negro area for generations, and expert in its ways. His family had made a living by working for several local coffee plantations. José had grander aspirations. José had seen the magic of the bigger city of Manaus and developed a taste for the city. He found that he enjoyed the mass of people and diversity; working this job would give him the money to move and begin a life there. In the jungle, darkness does not descend or fall. It is a world where daylight is filtered across a canopy of trees which can stretch a hundred feet into the sky; each day is marked by a checkerboard of light against a slow progression of dusk. One moment thin sunlight struggles against the ground; the next, blackness envelopes the world. It is at this time that the jungle is most alive and at its most dangerous. After dinner had been eaten and the utensils cleared, José went looking for his friend to begin the trek to the nearby village and its pahé. The trip would take about an hour and José and Joachim decided to take machetes and Joachim carried a Remington slung on his shoulder. The trip was uneventful and on the way they had discussed what José had to do and how he would pay the pahé back. "You will need to find something good for the pahé. Getting back your spirit will be difficult for him. He may have to walk the white spirit trail," Joachim observed. José shrugged. "I have brought money." "Stupid, what doe a medicine man need with money? He has everything he needs. He lives in the world of spirit." his companion replied. "In that case, why should I need to pay him at all?" reasoned José. They approached the village from the southwest. They could see the light of a roaring fire and hear singing in the distance; most likely a local celebration of some event, perhaps a marriage. As they approached they could make out a circle of people standing looking at a couple. The couple was facing an older man who was talking to the assembled people. He seemed intent on his address until he saw the approach of the two strangers. He stopped and called out to the men in welcome. The crowd stopped and tuned to look at the stranger. José stepped forward. "Desculpe-nos, we are looking for the pahé. We are in need of healing." The man who had been addressing the village broke away and walked to ward them "I am the pahé. What is wrong?" he held up a hand. "No, I will guess, it is good practice for me," he grinned. He approached the men. The pahé was a small lean man with a weathered face and sharp black eyes. The gaunt frame revealed a body colored and painted in a variety of colors. José knew that these were part of spirit travels and illustrated some particular power or significant event in the shaman's life. From the depth, José guessed this man had been very accomplished. Without preamble, the small man approached José. The eyes evaluated the tracker in one long sweeping look. "Your spirit is gone. It was taken by the black box." The pahé announced. He reached into a small canvas sack hanging at this side and withdrew a short piece of dried root. José looked to his friend and then back to the small man. "Sim, chefe. I need you to return to the sprit world and retrieve it for me. Can you do that?" The pahé gnawed at the root and regarded the man. The shaman's eyes pierced deep into José's as if looking into his heart and reading whatever story might be written there. Presently he said, "Yes. What is it worth to you?" José reached deep into his pocket and pulled out a handful of coins, the entire days pay. The shaman glanced at the contents of the hand and snorted. "So little for your life? For as sure as I stand here, if your spirit is not returned you will die of the wasting sickness." "I can bring more tomorrow," José countered. The little man's eyes began to dance reflecting pinpoints of light from the fire. By now, the exchange had piqued the interested of the remaining tribe. They walked over. José stood his ground but his companion took a step back, uncertain. These were forest people and one never knew how they would react. A simple thing such as a wrong inflection could insult them. Joachim knew that to insult a forest person would bring certain painful death to the offender. Brazilian Hearts José's attention, on the other hand, was captured by the arrival of the bride. She came up and took her place directly behind and to the left of the old shaman. She was beautiful, more beautiful than any woman José had seen; more beautiful even than the painted women who sold themselves alongside the bars and taverns in Mauaus. She had rich night wing hair, youthful curves and insolence in her manner that begged to be tamed. At that moment, José decided that he would have her. His attention was not unnoticed by two men however. One was the pahé and the other was a taller young man dressed solely in a loin cloth and standing some distance from the rest of the crowd. His eyes stole from José to the young woman standing at the pahé's arm. His hands balled into fists and he took a step forward as if willing himself between the visitor and the woman. This man was the woman's betrothed. It was their ceremony that the two men's arrival had interrupted. The pahé smiled broadly and said, "We shall see. Come with me" He turned to the woman and barked out an order. The woman nodded and melded into the jungle. José followed the old fellow to his hut. Here is where he would partake of the ayahuasca. He had known several of his village's people who had participated in one, few ever participated again. It was said the experience was frightening and dangerous; one could die during the spirit walk. He stepped inside and was directed to sit as a small fire was erected in the pit located in the center of the room. José guessed that when not used for spirit journeys it doubled as a cooking pit. Joachim took his place next to José as the girl returned and began preparing a mixture from the yage plant she had hastily collected. When she had completed her task, she came over and leaned to hand the gourd vessel containing the drink to the shaman. Then she took a place just to the left of José. As she sat, her thigh rubbed against the fabric of the hunter's pants. He could feel the heat of her body through the cloth. His cock began to harden. The pahé took the gourd and held it up. Then he reached behind him and pulled a bottle of what appeared to be whiskey and poured a good measure into the contents of the gourd. "For taste," he explained to the hunter with the wink of a secret shared. Jose knew that this was caapi the ritual drink of the ayahuasca. With its influence and aid he and the pahé would be able to journey to the spirit world and retrieve the hunter-trackers lost spirit. He took a large pull of the liquid and handed it to the girl who followed suit. She in turned passed it to José. He looked from the gourd to the shaman. The contents were as dark as the waters of the Rio Negro. He put his nose to the opening and sniffed. It smelled pungent. He wrinkled his nose and took a long drink. The whiskey did little to dissipate the heady brackish flavor and earthy aftertaste. The liquid burned all the way to his stomach. José handed the gourd back to the shaman who shook his head and indicated that Joachim should also drink. "We may need all the help we can get," the pahé explained. Joachim hesitantly took the offering and drank. From behind him, José could hear a drumming. He felt lightheaded. He watched as the world began to change before him, shadows lengthened, and a languid feeling overcame him. He grew detached from the physical world. He watched as the girl drew closer. He smiled as she held her bare breast out. His open lips found her nipple and his tongue traced a slow line around the areola. He felt lighter as she pressed herself to him and he began to suckle as he had as a child at his mother. She smiled back. He could feel the breath of a wind rising. His other hand found the warmth of her thigh and he slowly began to move his hand up and down its length. The wind grew stronger and he could feel her pull away. The wind was now irresistible and he could feel himself being borne up on its currents, leaving the earth. He marveled at the feeling of freedom as he hung suspended; feet from the earth and miles from care. He watched with disinterest as the forms of the shaman and his friend joined him. The drumming began to intensify and he could feel the power build within him. José noted that the landscape had changed. He was no longer in the pahé's hut but had exited that world and entered another. With the pahé beside him and Joachim behind they went off toward a city in the distance, large and wondrous. Instinctively, José knew this was the spirit land of the whites and it would be here that he would find his spirit self. In the distance, José could see a large jaguar approaching. The Shaman motioned for the two men to stay back while he glided off toward the large creature. The man and beast appeared to speak for some minutes. The large cat made a motion in the direction of a point in the city. The pahé returned and spoke to José through a tongue thick with drug. "My spirit guide says we will find your spirit down there and to the left," he said pointing. "You will need to break the seal that contains it while I distract the guard. Be very quick and quiet. Do not try to fight the guard. Let me do that. Do you understand?" José nodded and they set out in the direction indicated. The landscape before them was almost barren of vegetation. Instead, where a tree would normally be found, an iron girder sprouted and in lieu of grass, pavement lined the ground. They floated along, silent and searching. Finally, the old man pointed to a point of light. "There! That is where we will find your spirit." The pahé stopped and looked at the two men. His eyes were grave. "This is the most dangerous time. I will go watch for the evil spirits. You must go and release your spirit." José began to feel fear. "Shouldn't you do that? I know nothing about this. I am a hunter." The pahé explained. "Estupido, it is your spirit! It will come to no one but you. You must be the one to free it. No one else can." Scared, José began his search. It wasn't long before he found what he was looking for. Fifty meters away a thick 'I' beam rose from the ground. Chained there was a large grey wolf. The pahé had told him that this would be his sprit in this world. There was no need for this information however as the beast and José instantly recognized one another. The wolf rose and began to struggle against it chains. José had just begun to drift toward his spirit when a huge feathered snake slithered between them. This was the guardian about which he had been warned. José tried to move left and the snake matched his movements. José knew instinctively that if the snake succeeded in sinking its fangs into him, he would die in this world and the physical. Sinuously, the snake wound its way toward the hunter. José realized he had no weapon and began to panic. Just as the snake was within striking distance José heard a loud screech and a feathery blur slammed into the viper. The snake, knocked over, tried to right itself as José's savior again took to the air. Without knowing why, José sensed this to be the spirit form of the young woman who had given him her breast. The snake turned and peered with fiery eyes for it tormentor. Jose took advantage of this moment and flew for the beam which chained his spirit. He drew next to the beast at the same time as his friend Joachim arrived. "Quickly, the evil hunts you again" he warned. José spun as the viper raced toward him. But before he could react an onca, the Brazilian jaguar, placed itself between José and the snake. The onca moved with lightning grace and attacked the viper. The teeth sank deep as the onca's rear claws raked along the serpent, splitting it open. Jose knew the time had come. He reached out and touched the chain holding his spirit. In a blinding light the chain shattered and his spirit was free! The last thing he remembered was searing heat and a long, painful fall. José returned to life with a start. He quickly sat up and looked around. Next to him lay the unconscious form of his friend, Joachim. He rose on both arms and looked around. The pahé and his assistant sat there smiling down at him. The eyes of the girls were intense. "So, you feel better, eh?" the painted old man inquired. "Yes. Much better," José replied. "But, I don't remember much of what happened" The old man nodded satisfactorily. "Good. It is better to be a whole man. Do not worry that you do not remember all that happened. Many do not on the first ayahuasca." "I remember one thing." José looked at the girl. "You saved my life." The girl looked down and smiled. Then reluctantly, she rose and left the hut. "Wait!" José called after here. He had to thank her, to show his gratitude for the return of his life. The pahé stood. "Do not worry. You will have much time to thank her," he said with a knowing look. "For now, rest. We will send food in the morning. You will begin your trip back then" The hunter nodded. "Yes, the chefe Buck will be wondering where we are." The old man's eyes passed from one man to the other. "Your friend has his journey to take and you have yours." "Wait, what do I owe for your services?" The old man smiled again. "We will speak again in the morning," he said and walked out of the hut and into the night. José was too exhausted to think about the strange happenings of the night. He immediately fell into a deep and dreamless sleep. The morning came. Jose rose and shook his friend awake. Joachim appeared a bit disoriented but it wore off after a few minutes. As if summoned, the girl came in clutching two bowls felled with meat and beans. Without a word, she set them down along with an open gourd of water. She watched the men as they thanked her and began to eat. Joachim turned to his friend and said, "We have to hurry," he said with his mouth full. "The chefe Buck will be very displeased. He will have lost a day" He dug into the bowl and took another mouthful. Ignoring his friend, he asked the young woman before him "You saved my life last night. How can I thank you?" The girl looked perplexed at the suggestion. "Why do you need to repay me? I could do noting less. We are bound." Now it was José's turn to be perplexed. "What do you mean? I have never seen you before yesterday." She smiled. "We have seen one another in dreams." José decided to change the subject. "I am sorry I interrupted your wedding last night." The girl shrugged. "It was never meant to be. The spirits are against it." "Well, I am sorry still," He repeated softly. He and girl looked at one another. Finally, José tuned to his friend. "I will not be going with you. Tell the chefe that I am sorry but my path goes in a different direction." Joachim jumped up. "You are going to stay here? Are you crazy? What about your plans for Manaus? The money to be made?" Without taking his eyes from the girl, he replied. "I did not say I was staying here. I said I would not be going back with you." Before Joachim could answer the pahé entered. Over his shoulder he carried a large gourd and two leather satchels. "Ah, we are ready, no?" The girl rose perfunctorily. Without comment she took the items from the pahé and handed two to the hunter-tracker. Joachim watched his friend. "Are you insane? What about her father and her betrothed. Do you know what they will do to her should they catch you? And they will catch you." The hunter-tracker took the offered items and slung them over his shoulder. He reached down and retrieved his machete and tucked it under his worn leather belt. His face was set in determination. "That remains to be seen does it not? Listen, I do not understand this. I may never understand this. But I have wanted this woman since first I saw her on last night at the ceremony. She will yet be a bride, but my bride." He turned and looked at the young woman. "I think she wants me as well. Sim?" The girl smiled, "Sim". Joachim was not finished yet. He took his friend harsh by the arm. "But the father. The man we saw last night. They will certainly…". The old man choked him off with a laugh. Joachim spun and faced the old man. "This is not about the spirit world, old fool; this is about life and death right here! If José takes this girl the father and the woman lover will come after them. They will take back the girl and kill my friend!" The old man looked at the young hunter-tracker. "You must be a great man to command such loyal and brave friends. For you to have a friend that surely risks death and more by speaking to a pahé thus speaks well of you." He chuckled. "My friend has a point," José observed "As for girl's father, I am her father. And I knew of your coming before you did. The spirits told me of your arrival five days ago." He made a throwaway gesture. And as for the young fool who thought to marry her and gain favor in the tribe, he will be dealt with." He turned and looked levelly at José. "You will deal with him. As for the rest… that is not for me to decide." Joachim yielded to his defeat. "Okay. How may I help?" The pahé stepped forward and said "You can stop your tiresome talking and let them get on their way." He took the young woman in his arms. "Go, little one. Your life is with this man. But come back soon and say hello to an old man" The girls wrapped her arms around the pahé and held him for a moment. "I will." The old man broke away." Now, go! Use all your skills. Use your head and not your arm. If you can get past our territory you will be free, they cannot touch you. But," he warned, "if they catch you before you reach the river they can kill you and no one will care." Within moments, José and the young girl were gone, swallowed up by the jungle. The old man gazed for a time in the direction in which they had disappeared. Then he turned and smiled at Joachim. "Now, about my payment and what shall we do about you, eh?" The first few hours were the vital ones. For those first hours the two ran without stop, heedless of the jungle which reached out for them with every step. José and the girl knew that they would have to put as much distance as possible in that that time and so they ran. Both had been born and bred in the forest and knew of its ways. José was impressed with the girls speed and stamina. He had thought that he would have to stop to allow her to rest but each time they slowed it was she who urged them on deeper into the jungle and further from her former home. Fours hours into their flight and it was José himself who finally called for a rest. They came to a small clearing, a break in the jungle canopy above them where a circle of bright sunlight poured onto the ground. The girls opened the gourd and took a drink as José pawed trough one of the leather pouches and pulled out two pieces of dried meat. He handed one to the girl as she passed him the gourd. He bit into the sweet spicy meat and watched her. She was lithe and beautiful. Her hair was shiny with the gloss of heath. Her body was round, full and vital. Beneath the dark flesh her muscles moved with a smooth elegance. "I don't even know your name," José observed. The girl laughed. "I am called Letceicia," she answered. "I like that. It is a good name. You said we had met in dreams. I don't remember any dreams. I would have remembered seeing you in them" The girl took another drink. "I did. That was enough." "You say we are bound. What did you mean by that?" The girl looked at him as if he had just asked her to explain the stars. "You are a forest man. You know what I mean. Don't be stupid. Our sprits are joined. It is meant for us to be together." José decided not to press the point. Instead he asked, "How much further do you think?" The girls looked around taking her bearings. "We will be out of my people's territory by mid-day tomorrow. And then where do we go?" 'I was hoping to make it all the way to Manuas, down the river. I have a friend there and he can put us up. He can also contact Joachim and retrieve the money I am owed from the chafe Buck for the work I did." The girl watched him. "You left. Why do you think this Americano will pay you what he owes?" This time it was José who grinned. "Oh, he will pay what I am due all right. Joachim will see to that." "How will he do that?" "If he were not to pay, he knows that Joachim will tell the other bearers. Soon, it would be in all the villages that the Americano cheats his bearers and trackers. From the Negro to the Amazon basin, the chefe would never be able to hire a local man again," José explained. Letceicia nodded in satisfaction. "We should be going. We can still put several hours between us and anyone following." "Do you really think that anyone will bother chasing us?" José asked. "Your father gave us his blessing." The girl stood and motioned for José to follow. "That is true. But the man who wanted to marry me, Ignacio, he will follow. He has wanted to make me his woman since we were children." José smiled. "I can understand that. I wanted you since the moment I saw you in the village that night,' he admitted. The girl, Letceicia, laughed huskily. "That is because you have love for me. We are bound. You want to make me your woman to share your bed, your life, bear your children and cook. Ignacio had no such desires. He wanted me for the power he thought he could get from my father." The hunter simply nodded his understanding. They spent the rest of the afternoon putting as much distance between them and the phantom of Ignacio as possible. As the darkness became thicker, they found a small area with denser tree covers to shield from the rain which would surely come in the night. They ate a quick meal from the pouches and as Letceicia went off to refill the water gourd, José busied himself with fixing a place for them to spend the night. By the next day they would be in new territory and safe. The hunter began to think of what they would do once they reached Manaus. José believed he could find work with one of the local firms providing guides or perhaps working the docks which shipped the coffee beans down river to the Amazon and from there to the ports of the world. Letceicia could perhaps work as a maid at one of the small hotels which had just begun to be developed. The important thing was that they would be together. Letceicia returned and settled in next to him, her body warm and firm against his skin. He could feel her heart beat against his back. The night closed in tighter and his senses reeled from her presence. Jose turned and saw she was lying there staring at him. He reached out for here and drew her closer. She didn't resist but instead threw a bare leg over his and pressed herself to him. Taking her face in his hands he pressed his face against her. Her scent drew him closer and their mouths met; his in a demanding need and hers in surrender. Their tongues flicked against one another and he could taste their last meal. His hands began stroking her thighs as he pressed himself tight to her. Her hips began to rock on his signaling her own desire. He could feel his manhood begin to swell against the confines of his worn trousers. He broke their kiss long enough to remove his shirt and trousers as she removed the skirt she had worn. Naked, they fell together again. Their bodies molded one to the other. Neither one was adept at the task before them, both were inexperienced. Letceicia was virgin and while José had once paid for a woman in the streets of Manaus, the act had been consummated quickly and without passion. This was entirely different. Now they sought each others pleasures and not the quick release of tension. Brazilian Hearts His lips again sought hers and she grabbed his hair pulling him tightly to her. He broke the kiss and began to move down her neck seeking the sweet taste there. His lips ran along it and found the rhythm of her pulse. One hand cupped her breast and toyed with the nipple. He marveled at how it grew and hardened into a small nub which his mouth eagerly sought. The other hand moved down to her legs and parted them. He slowly rubbed her sex, moistening it. She in turn, grasped his penis and began stroking it. It came to full length and she could peel back his foreskin and feel the lubrication of his pre-cum. Impatient, he rolled her over on her back and stationed himself between her legs. He looked down at her glistening in the night. He gazed back into her eyes, his own filled with an unasked question. Letceicia moved her hand back to his erect penis, then stroking it she nodded. The hunter moved the tip of his penis to her opening and rubbed the tip against its length. The girl rose against him. Slowly he pushed and met the resistance he had been told to expect. Firmly, using his legs for leverage, he pushed harder. Then, in one quick thrust he entered her. Her mouth hissed against the pain. He stopped and gazed at her again, unsure as to what to do. With firm assurance she began to move her hips and he joined her in a rocking motion. Small tears formed at the corner of her eyes as he took her. José looked down, briefly concerned at the small rivulet of blood running down the inside of her thigh. For a moment he stopped his motion. Letceicia, however was not ready to concede. She pulled hard at his neck her hips insistent. Her mouth and teeth sought his shoulder and she bit into it, the coppery flavor of his blood heating hers. Slowly their rocking picked up and the sobs of pain from the girl were replaced by pants of desire. The intensity of their thrusts increased as José began to moan. This had not been like his brief encounter in Manaus. This was a giving and taking between a man and woman. His bucking increased as did hers. The girl now was all passion, any remnant of the pain expunged by her need. The hands reached under her, cupping her round bom-bom and pushed himself fully into her. Their movements increased as they both began the long climb to the little death. In the night they reached their climax together, his cock pulsating as he emptied himself into her and her muscle contracted around him, milking him of every drop. They both fell exhausted to the ground. They had just enough time for one lingering kiss. Letceicia tore a piece of cloth from his shirt and wiped herself, conscious of the raw blood. She then threw it as far into the night as possible. Then they both relaxed in each others' arm and fell into a deep consuming sleep. They came awake with the jungle. Still wrapped in one another from the previous night, José's was the first pair of eyes to open. The first thing he took in was her face, serene in sleep. A stray strand of hair brushed her faced pushed by her rhythmic breath. His hand reached up and gently touched her cheek, his fingers tracing down the firm outline of her jaw, his eyes following. His gaze drew up along the soft flush of her dimpled cheek to the outline of a small ear. His attention moved to the outline of her eyes, still closed in sleep. Even now, small lines were beginning, brought on by her smiles and laughter. In the years to come these would deepen, bringing strength and character. The forehead was still smooth. The mouth was slightly open revealing just a hint of her sharp, white teeth. Last night, in the throes of their lovemaking she had used them on his shoulder as she had ridden him to her fulfillment. The lips were fill and soft. Her eyes opened and focused on him. "Good morning," she breathed. His mouth came down over hers. Her arm came up and circled his neck and drew him closer. With a strength which belied her size she pushed him over. She threw a leg over his and reached down grasping his already hard cock. She pumped it a few times. Then she held it and set her body down on it. José could feel his cock push into her warmth. It was still tight and clamped him to her but without the resistance of the previous night's adventures. Her face found his and her eyes blazed into his as she rode him. There was none of the trepidation of the previous night, just the mutual need of two animals in nature, in accordance with natures plan. Her hips rotated and moved, the strong muscles of her thighs keeping him locked in place. José struggled to match her intensity. Her hands found his chest and she used his strength to brace herself. Her fingers dug into his chest as her breathing quickened in time with her movements. His hand clutched at her hips as she rocked. They moved faster as their release approached. She took one hand and began to massage her breast. A low moan escaped her. José felt his own need rise as his crotch tightened. Sensing this, the girl reached back behind her and gently took him in her hand and began to gently massage his balls sack. Unable to withstand this added assault, José pushed his hips up, both his hips and the girl. She threw her head back and she felt his cock throb and spurt deep inside her. Within seconds they were both spent. The girl relaxed and lay down on the hunter's chest and they both waited for their breath to return. She looked up at her man and smiled. They kissed. "We must go. We have already spent too much time here," she observed. "What about breakfast, José asked returning her smile. "You have just had it. We can eat on the way," she replied, disengaging herself. She tore another piece of cloth and wiped herself. José smiled as she handed him the remains of his tattered shirt. Quickly they gathered their remaining items and headed off in the direction of the Rio Negro. For the next hour, they swept through the jungle trying to put as much distance as possible between them and any pursuer. Shortly after mid-morning, José stopped. The girl pushed to move past him. His arm shot out and grabbed hers. She looked at him inquiringly. He motioned to a patch of ground in front of them. "Not that way," he said. The girl examined the ground ahead of her but couldn't see anything out of place. She said so. "See the patchwork of fronds lying there and just there," he explained pointing. The girl followed his pointing finger. "Yes, what of it?" "That is a trap used by the chefe Buck for capturing el Tigre. The beast walks across and its weight is enough to cause the collapse. The pit is very deep." His eyes began sweeping the surrounding bush. "He must have moved into this area recently. That could work in our favor." "Well, that is interesting but we need to be moving. We are being followed." José glanced at her. "How do you know?" "I just know," Letceicia answered. She motioned off to a point to their left. "We can go this way. About three hundred yards in that direction is a place where the river narrows. There is a ford people sometimes use to cross the water. Often it is too swift to cross but the rain was light last night so it may still be passable," she explained. They set off in the direction and after a short while came into the area. The river was high but there, still suspended and visible across a narrow channel was a suspension of three ropes. Two ran parallel to one another and formed the basis for the walkway. Across and interwoven with these was a system of boarding. The third was situated higher up and acted as a handhold for the journey across. Despite evidence of attempts at ongoing maintenance, its use would be treacherous at the best of times. They drew near the bridge when a shot from the jungle to their right stopped them. The couple turned to the sound. Out from the foliage stepped the man, Ignacio. In his band he carried a long tubular blow gun and at his waist hung a machete similar to the one José possessed. He stood about fifty yards from them. "Letceicia, I knew you would come here to cross, but I expected you sooner." He smirked. "How did you get here before us?" she asked. "Simple. I knew where you would bring this one. I traveled all night to get here before you and wait. I have been here waiting most of the morning." José calculated the odds. The man was bigger than José, not as muscular but the blowgun was the great equalizer. He knew that before he could close the distance, the blow gun would come up and he would die in agony from the curare laced dart. Even if fate stepped in and the man missed, the machete at his side could swipe of the hunters head owing to the longer reach. And there was the girl to consider. José turned to Letceicia, speaking in a low timbre. "We have one chance; I have an idea. When I say, I want you to run for the clearing we just came from." "The one with the trap?" she whispered incredulously. "Yes. Don't argue, just do it. Can you make it?" She snorted. "I will be there while you are still turning around," she said. "Good, then I won't have to wait for you," he whispered in reply. Ignacio started toward them. "I am going to enjoy killing you, stranger. You came in and stole from me and you deserve death for that. The woman is mine as is the power she and her father possess. With it I will be the head man of the village. They will serve me. " José grinned. "I doubt that, porco! You have to catch us first. Now! Go!" The last commands were directed toward the girl. He and Letceicia took off back toward the clearing. They ran back toward the clearing where the trap had been. It was a risk, but a calculated one. If José could inflame the man enough to make him careless, but it was a large if. They never looked back; the sounds of crashing jungle behind told them that the villager was right behind them. The only worry José really had was that the man would tire of the chase and bring his blow gun to bear but if José had read his man right, his pride would prevent him from doing that. He would want to kill José with his own hands. The pair entered the area and took up a position just the other side of clearing. With a crash, their pursuer came into the clearing and stopped short. Jose would have to lure him in closer. Wit slow deliberation the hunter drew his machete. "You want her? Come and get her! Personally, I think she would rather mate with a lizard than you, porco!" he taunted. Jose had guessed right. The place to strike this one was in his most vulnerable spot, his pride. Ignacio, pulled his own weapon and advanced, hi eyes burning holes into the hunter. "Porco, eh? We will see who porco is when I am feeding your entrails to the monkeys!" he sputtered. He came forward heedless of anything save his hatred and his injured pride. In four long strides he was on the latticed carpet of fronds. He knew his mistake immediately but it was too late to recover. The branches gave way and with a scream he fell the fifteen feet to the bottom of the pit, a new specimen for the chefe Buck. Jose walled over to the edge and peered in. The man was lying still unconscious. Letceicia came up and smiled. "The Americano will be surprised at this capture." She laughed. "Yes, he will. I would like to be the one to put him in the cage." He turned to the girl. Letceicia gazed back down at the man lying at the bottom of the pit. "He is a greedy man. Hungry for power he can never control. Perhaps you should kill him now" Jose looked from the woman to the man. "No, that would solve nothing. By the time he recovers and is freed we will be long gone from this place. And the spirits would not like killing a helpless man for no good reason." He turned away for the pit. "Besides ending on life is not a good way to begin ours, Letceicia. We could wait here until someone comes to check the trap. In that way I could get my money sooner and maybe the chefe will have a quicker way to Manuas. What do you think? Letceicia shook her head. "No, I want to be well gone before he awakens. Besides, we don't know what else may come looking for a meal from this porco. Your friend can still bring you your money. It is better to be on our way." José nodded. They set off back to ward the river. Within two hours they were free from her people's territory and heading towards Manaus. Their life together there would just begin. ********************************** …………and so they married and the rest you know." Maria finished happily. Astonished, I sat back thinking over the last hour and the tale my wife had just told. Did I believe it? Of course not! Spirit theft? Flying in the air, alternate realities, bruxa's and shamans, stealing a woman from her people, passionate lovemaking in the Brazilian jungle? The chefe Buck could only have referred to the legendary hunter of the 20's and 30's Frank "Bring 'Em Back Alive" Buck. How could I believe it? Just how gullible did she think I was? And yet, as we put the first lustrum of the new century behind us, I also questioned of how much in life we can be assured? Aircraft can bear down and destroy the greatest structures built by man; tsunamis take tens of thousands of lives and show us just how fragile our existence is on this little blue ball in an obscure solar system on the edge of a galaxy. All too often, our lives seemed to be at the mercy of pure chance than to any guiding principle yet discovered. Maybe there are alternate realities. Maybe when evil strikes it is brought on by our own inattention to our world and our place in it. Maybe we have all 'lost our spirits' and need to recover them. Maybe we need to find a balance between our fear of the vaguer ties of life and the wonder of it. Maybe some things are just meant to be. But then again, maybe Maria was just putting me on. I looked at the photos. "Querida, I have a question. If the forest people thought that taking a photo stole your spirit or soul or whatever," I held up the photo of Maria's grandmother, "how is it you have this?" The music of her laughter filled the room. "Oh, Peter you are such a silly man at times. Those were taken years after they were married and were living in Santos. And besides, you don't think all brasileiros are so silly as to believe that superstition, do you?" I didn't know for sure whether that justified as response. I decided to let it pass and instead contemplated the two photos from a time and world away from mine. I couldn't help but marvel at how these two people, whatever the validity of their story, had been responsible for beginning a journey the culmination of which now shared my life and bed. The new life which now grew inside of my loving Maria would ensure their legacy for generations to come. We were all of us bound. Maria rose up and kissed me. Our tongues again met in that brief and heated dance we had come to know so well. I held her close. "Are you coming to bed, meu caro?" she whispered into my ear. "You go along and I will be right in, querida. I have to rinse out my cup and put it in the washer. Plus, I have to set out the coffee your mamacita sent us for John so I don't forget it in the morning. His eyeballs are going to cross when he tastes that!" I grinned at the thought. She smiled. "Well, hurry. All this talk has left me excited and I need you, meu homem velho." That was certainly motivation enough for me. I patted her bottom as she went off down the hall to our bedroom. Watching the sway of that bottom was bewitching enough for any man in this reality or another. "And, Peter?" she called back. "Sim, minha cara?" "Take the empty carton out of my refrigerator and put it in the garbage where it belongs," her voice called back. I stepped over to the refrigerator and peered in. The carton was still there exactly as I had left it. I picked it up and shook it. It was still empty. My eyes went from the carton to the direction of our bedroom and then stepped over to toss the empty carton in the trash. As I placed the sack of roasted, ground Brazilian coffee beans on the table for work tomorrow, I couldn't help but wonder: How in the hell had she known about that?