The Jaguar Dream

Pale moonlight poured through overhanging leaves. Below, the thick, twisted roots of ombu trees ripped through the earth and looked monstrous in the shadows. Chirps, croaks, and shrill screeches rang out, wild things hidden in fragments of shadow and light. 

I squatted in a spot as far as possible from the foliage and branches, to lessen the risk of some bug or hidden creature biting my ass in the dark while I used the bathroom.

Once I finished, twigs and decayed leaves crunched beneath my feet as I headed back to camp. The scent of minty eucalyptus wafted over the mountain and mingled with smoke. It was strange how being stranded in the Argentine forest left me both terrified and charmed.

I stepped past the tree line and into the clearing. The fire cast a soft glow over the team of four medical workers, who sat cross-legged around the flames—a team that had no idea who I really was or why I had joined last minute on their church's medical mission to fight a regional dengue outbreak. 

Well, none of them knew except Adam, the dark-haired, blue-eyed EMT who resembled my missing brother so much that I did a double take every time I saw him. Adam figured out I was a liar before we even made it to the airport yesterday. But so far, he kept my secret.

And then there was Thiago, our guide. The guy who tried to send me back home the minute he saw me limping through the airport terminal. “The mountains of Jairos will eat her alive,” he said to the team leader, Dr. Josh. But I didn't care what Thiago thought of me. I didn't travel across continents to win his approval, or even to fight dengue. I was here to find my brother.

Thiago glared at me when I sat beside Dr. Josh at the fire. He roasted an armadillo over the flames, his expression stoic. The flames cast a soft glow over the arches of his full arms and highlighted the strange figures tattooed from his wrist to his shoulder: a condor, its wings spread wide, a jaguar below, on its back, claws extended, followed by a snake twisted around itself, facing upward.

“Thiago, tell us a story,” Dr. Josh said, piercing a hot dog with a skewer. 

“Oh! I love a good campfire story!” Ashley, a pediatric nurse, took a sip of yerba tea, her eyes locked expectantly on Thiago. Dr. Vivi, an uptight radiologist, nodded in agreement.

Thiago’s eyes drifted to the ground in thought. His hand glided through thick curls, pushing the wild mess off his forehead. For a fleeting moment, the gesture made him look boyish. But his shoulders were too broad, his hands too calloused and rough, having just finished ripping apart the bloody flesh of an armadillo and eating its legs like chicken wings. 

“Tell us about the witch,” I said. Thiago’s dark eyes flashed to mine. His brows furrowed. “Where did you hear of a witch?”

“I read some YELP reviews that said Jairos is haunted,” I replied. 

“Ah,” he said, with a slight smirk. "Ghosts and witches should be the least of your concern, with that broken back of yours.”

Dr. Josh stifled a smile. Adam grinned, but his expression hardened when I looked at him. There was a soft chuckle, probably from Ashley. I couldn't blame them. My mind knew it was funny, but my heart felt the cruelty of Thiago’s constant jabs.

Even though my eyes grew wet, my pride was stronger than the pain. They wouldn't see me cry—especially not Thiago. I swallowed the lump in my throat, blinked back tears, and took a bite of hot dog. 

Thiago unsheathed his machete and tossed it from one hand to the other. His bronze skin glowed in the soft light of the fire, and his dark eyes reflected in it. 

“There are things in Jairos. Unspeakable things.” His eyes slowly drifted to each of ours. “There are spirits in the forest. Vengeful and violent. Shapeshifters that move between spirit, man, and beast.”

His eyes lingered on mine for a moment, and he pointed the machete toward me. It glimmered menacingly in the flames. “And there is a shaman. A witch. Who sends the spirits of the forest to terrorize anyone who threatens his power.”

I glared at him and pretended the words didn't send a shiver up my spine. Thiago smirked. “Do not look so scared, Gringa. You are the last person who will pose a threat to anyone. You are safe.”

I bristled at his comment, but knew he was drawing battle lines. Firing where he could and testing to see how hard he could push me. He had been doing it since the airport. Resolve hardened me. 

“You're right, I'm not a threat… yet.” 

Thiago arched a brow and stared at me in cold silence. It struck me, then, that he kept expecting me to act one way, and my refusal to do so bothered him.

I stood and limped away toward the van, parked on the side of the narrow mountain road. Giving myself space was the best thing I could do. I didn't have the energy to engage in any more verbal battles tonight.

Footsteps soon followed behind me. A hand touched my shoulder. 

“You ok?” Adam asked, brows furrowed. He leaned against the van and watched me closely.

“I'm fine.” But my eyes grew wet. “It's just... I'm just a joke to Thiago. To everyone. I'm not cut out for this trip.”

Adam pulled me in for a hug and patted the back of my head. This gesture somehow made more tears fall down my cheeks. 

“You're not a joke,” he said. "Who cares what that guide, or anyone else thinks? You're not here for them. You're here for Elias.”

I sighed heavily and rested my forehead against his chest. Adam reminded me so much of my brother that it made my heart ache. For a moment, while he hugged me, I pretended he was Elias. 

“Now that we're in Argentina, do you have some crazy twin spidey sense?” Adam asked. “Like, can you feel if he's around or in danger?”

I shook my head, and wished more than anything that we had twin superpowers, a telepathy where I could read his mind across continents and cities. Why shouldn't we? From the moment our cells proliferated in the darkness, and from the first thumps of our hearts beating against the sacred silence of the womb, we were tethered; so why did I now feel nothing? Know nothing? 

All I could go off of was the embassy’s tip that he was last seen in Mendoza—only a few cities away from Jairos. The town where, now that Thiago replaced our popped tire with the spare, we headed to first thing in the morning. But YELP reviews of Jairos warned of witches and hauntings; that, coupled with Thiago's strange story, made Jairos the last place I wanted to go. 

Adam soon headed back to camp, and I went to the tent I shared with Ashley. Within the hour, she stepped inside and lay beside me. She apologized for laughing at Thiago’s joke earlier. I pretended I didn't notice or care. She was soon asleep, with earplugs and a fuzzy pink mask over her eyes. I watched the burning stars through the skylight of the tent, wishing my mind would unwind and let me drift off like hers did.

But then, a darkness so black that it sank into my chest, beneath my bones. Air drained from the atmosphere. My heart thundered. Voices swirled. Whispers, watchful eyes, and shadows.

The sound of the tent canvas as it unzipped, slowly, inch by inch, made me dig my nails into the ground and clench my teeth. I couldn't turn my head to see who stepped inside. My arms and legs were heavy; even my lungs paralyzed. 

A voice grew louder, like a single, crystalline note rising above the symphonic hush of foreign voices and whispers. “Leave. Turn back. There is nothing for you in Jairos but death.”

As it grew louder, it became less of a whisper and more of a snarl. Though my head lay frozen, turned away from the canvas, I knew something moved closer; something watched me. 

“Who are you?!” I tried to reach for Ashley's arm, which lay flaccid beside me, but my chest felt as if someone were sitting on me, my arms pinned to the ground. The harsh snarl transformed and softened into familiarity. “It's me.” 

My heart pounded so hard it rang in my ears. “Elias?!”

“You're too late…” his voice faded, and I blinked back tears. 

“Run!” Another familiar, gentle voice urged. “Leave this place! You fear for a reason. Hear its voice!” 

“Mom?!” Tears flooded my eyes. I dug my nails into the earth. I tried to scream but could only gasp. Yellow eyes, bright and fiery, pierced the blackness. Suddenly, I stood in the clearing of the woods. A small fire glowed, illuminating a man working with his hands beside it. 

“Look,” the voice snarled. A force like a gust of wind shoved me forward, closer to the man. The smell of copper, musky decay, and smoky incense mingled in the air. I approached the man slowly and stopped, my eyes widening in horror. 

The man sat at the fire, the arches of his full muscles and the chaotic lines of his tattoos enunciated by the flames. A black, wooden mask hid his face, with painted yellow eyes

and white fangs—a jaguar. His fingers dripped with blood. He mixed something in a bowl, and some kind of lifeless black-feathered bird lay with its chest splayed open over a stone. Beside the bird was a small knife and some herbs. The sight and smells made me shudder.

I squinted at the man and recognized not only the wild curls peeking out from behind the mask, but also the marks on his arms: a tattooed snake, jaguar, and eagle. It was Thiago. I shuddered and drifted back to the tent, the hard earth cold beneath my aching back. I writhed and gasped for air. Fingers wrapped around my neck, and what felt like a hot, burning nail tore at my arm, from my wrist to my forearm.

I blacked out.

Until early morning, when pale blue mist drifted through the forest and the song of rising birds echoed in the stillness. A gentle breeze, cool and rich with the fragrance of wildflowers still wet with dew, sent goosebumps all over my bare arms. 

I huddled outside of the tent, disturbed by my strange dream. The nightmare felt so real, but was surely nothing more than Thiago’s strange campfire story and residual Benadryl from the flight yesterday, jumbling my brain like the tangled roots of the forest floor.

I met everyone at the fire, which Adam stoked while Dr. Vivi and Dr. Josh approached. Josh yawned, his eyes tired and red. Vivi already looked ready for the day, dressed in a beige tracksuit, her hair neat and pulled up. 

Ashley wearily made her way over, eyes puffy, the pink eye mask still stuck to her forehead. She plopped beside us and frowned. I wasn't the best at reading the room, but I knew if I so much as said hi I’d take a verbal beating. 

Soon, oatmeal and coffee boiled over the fire. Once Ashley took a sip of coffee, her tight-knit brows loosened. 

“Ashley, you look like you've been run over by a semi-truck,” Vivi said as Thiago joined the group. He sat across from me at the fire.

“I barely slept.” Ashley glared at me. “Someone kept me up all night screaming in her sleep.”

Blood flooded to my cheeks, which stung with heat. “I'm so, so sorry. I had a nightmare.”

“I knew I heard something!” Dr. Josh said. “I thought it was a squealing boar or a howler monkey!"

I looked down and wanted to vanish. To sink into the earth never to be seen again. Josh reached for the pot over the flames and poured more steaming coffee into his mug.

“Probably just the residual effects of Benadryl," he said. "That stuff is potent.”

Dr. Vivi scoffed. “The half-life of Benadryl is only three hours. Her dream had nothing to do with the antihistamine she took twenty hours earlier."

Josh rolled his eyes. "Well, doubling the dose like she did would strengthen the half-life—"

“-not that much,” Vivi snapped. 

Josh sighed. “How is it you know everything, but not when to zip it?”

Vivi rolled her eyes. “How is it that I've forgotten more than you've ever known?”

“Guys! Please.” My head pounded, and their back-and-forth made it worse. “I'm sorry I woke you.”

Josh swirled his coffee in the mug. “What’d you dream about, anyway?” 

“Errr…” what was I going to say? That some sleep paralysis demon, along with my dead brother and mom, warned me not to go to the exact place we headed to after breakfast?

“Something told me not to go to Jairos and clawed at my arm. I think you're right, just too much Benadryl yesterday.”

When I reached over the fire for the pot of coffee, my left sleeve slipped down my arm.

Adam’s eyes grew wide. “What the hell is that?”

I drew back my arm and examined it. Sure enough, a long, bloody scratch ran from my wrist to my elbow. Ashley gasped, her eyes locked on the scratch. The others stared. Josh’s mouth was agape, and he paused between bites of oatmeal. Thiago’s brows furrowed, and his dark eyes flashed to mine. 

I yanked my sleeve down and tried to make sense of my bloody arm. I explained that I must've scratched myself without realizing, on a rock or branch or something sharp in my sleep, which was why I dreamt an animal clawed me.

My explanation seemed to please everyone, who returned to eating, sipping, and chatting. Everyone but Thiago. He studied me as if I were a wild animal locked behind a cage; as if he knew something I didn't, some secret about my nightmare he was unwilling to unleash. But wasn't it just a dream?

I stood and stepped toward the tree line, to clear my head. A gust of wind howled and tugged at my clothes. Footsteps closed in behind me and I turned, surprised to see Thiago. I kept walking and grimaced when a loose branch cracked beneath my foot and wretched my hip. Thiago clicked his tongue and stepped beside me.

"Too bad there's not a way to tell if a branch is steady or might crack and ruin my life before I step on it," I said.

“You are in pain."

I looked up at him. “Is that a question or a statement?”

“A question about your statement."

“Well, yes. So much pain,” I said, dramatically. “Do you want to hear all about it?”

I knew he'd rather eat rocks. 

“Si. If it will help.” His voice was oddly gentle. 

“Well, it's…painful.”

Thiago smirked. “You have a way with words.”

“I'm basically a poet,” I said. “Just wait 'til I tell you about my face.”

A wicked gleam lit his eyes. “Is it...scarred?”

“So scarred.”

We laughed, but Thiago's smile faded, and any sense of camaraderie with it. His jaw clenched with tension. Something bothered him. His dark, perceptive eyes drifted to my scratched arm and narrowed. The directness of his gaze made me shudder. I envisioned him shrouded in shadows, hands dripping with blood. 

The corners of his mouth curved, as if he were charmed despite himself. As if my nightmare somehow signaled there was more to me than stubbornness and pride, a scarred face and a broken back. As if curiosity had also struck Thiago the way it struck me, and told him he wasn’t the only one with secrets. He surely had them– maybe even more than I did.

A quiet curiosity implanted itself deep into my chest. It wrapped around me, tight and impenetrable like the twisted roots of an ombu tree. A warning from my nightmare whispered in the wind. “There is nothing for you in Jairos but death.” 

The gust flipped my hair behind my shoulders and swept his dark curls across his face. What did the nightmare mean? Who was Thiago, really? To follow him to Jairos now felt like some kind of death sentence. 

Thiago's eyes tore from mine as he stepped back toward the group. I followed behind him, unsure if I was about to be led, or lost. But it was time to leave, and far too late to turn back.