The sun threw a straight line over the coast. From above, only six small dots projecting stick shadow figures were distinguished, moving slowly between sand and soft vegetation.
A few hours had passed since break of dawn but the group of dots had set motion way before night had started to lose its darkness. They moved slowly but determined, only impaired by the tiredness that started to creep in.
“Should we rest a bit here? Brother, I’m tired, I’m hungry. We have been walking for ages! My feet are all swollen, I can’t feel my legs…mouth’s acking for a whiskey if you want to know” – complained Jonah.
“That wouldn’t help with the thirst. Remember Quetzal? I can’t believe we are goi—“
“Not that again!” – barged Jonah – “I swear if I have to hear another lesson from you or your daughter about dehydration, I’ll just run into the forest!”
“You know she was right” – laughed Vincent – “Karolina enjoys messing with you but she was right!”
“I am not thirsty for water, I’m thirsty for a damn whiskey! With two rocks – those ought be enough to quench your dehydration propaganda”, mocked Jonah, laughing halfway through the speech – “Why do we have to walk to this site of yours? Why couldn’t we just flash some medallions to the cap’ and sail our way there?”
“It’s unreachable by boat. We must walk there. There are a few sites we should investigate and luck would have it, they are only accessible by foot. I told you to bring some sturdy boots!”
A demanding shushing sound rushed from the back of the group, interrupting the two explorers.
“Be quiet,” – said the husher – “listen…!”.
Samto, one of the most knowledgeable and experienced native guides for hire, raised his head, eyes fitting directly into the forest tree line, continued in silence.
A distant but noticeable sound was hatching from within the woodland, to the northwest of their position. It was a low growl, well timed with what seemed to be rocks dropping and shattering on the floor.
“What the hell is that!” – Jonah’s relaxed posture was now damped with trepidation
“That, my dear Jonah, is part of the mystery that brought us here!” – said Vincent, unable to hide his enthusiasm – “We can’t go yet, we need to prepare for whatever may lie ahead. Let’s continue on to the site and reevaluate.”
“Brother, I am all for adventure but did you hear that?” – fear was slowly gathering around Jonah’s face wrinkles.
“Come on, Jonah. You wanted an adventure. You are not getting scared, are you?”
“It’s not fear, it’s…resp—“
“Respect, yes! I remember that!” – laughed Vincent, recalling Quetzal endeavour.
The conversation came to a halt when a sudden pace increase from Samto was noticeable.
Jonah’s eyes opened wide, his pupils revealed an increase tremor growing inside. His eyes pierced Vicent’s, searching for an explanation that wasn’t there. No comments were made and the group started to sync up steps, walking faster, as one.
As the collective began to move swiftly and in absolute silence, leaving behind soft footprints of boots only slightly carved in the sand, the growl started to turn into a distant echo.
After a few hours of steady walking, it ceased to be heard.
It was the day’s last light when the group reached the alcove.
The sand gave way to a rocky floor that time had sculpted as stairs, which led to a small set of entrances that went deep into the rock wall. There were three larger openings into an interior cave where, after some rough clean up and preparation, a fire was made.
They could hear an occasional sound but as the night grew closer, the life and sounds surrounding the group went quieter.
Vicent took the lead – “Let’s camp here. Tomorrow we can search this place and see what we can find. Let’s get some shut-eye.”
Everyone agreed.
After a couple of hours, only a small lamp was seen from the horizon: Vincent was sitting by it, studying his notes and writing a letter.
After a few minutes the lamp was extinguished and all the group was asleep.