Mixpov

Desperate, the woman grabbed her husband and, as best she could, dragged him out of the house, heading deep into the jungle. It was late at night, and although winter had not fully set in, the early rains already made the nights cold.

There was no defined path, just a trail through large leaves and wet grasses. The woman dragged the man, knowing that if she didn’t hurry, she would lose him. She had already gone to the village doctor and even consulted her spiritual leader, but no one could help, and the man kept getting worst. She had no one else; it was just him and her.

She had always been brave and determined, and that’s why she wasn’t going to let him go without trying everything. That night, his condition deteriorated, and she began to see his light fade. Because he was her family and she loved him, she was in the depths of the jungle with only a vague idea of where she was heading.

There is an old rumor in the village that near the foothills of the mountain, deep in the dense jungle, lived a woman who could cross at will from this world to the other and had her ways to help, to heal, and to connect with the all. She had really thought it was just a story, but she was desperate and had to try.

Almost near to collapse from the weight of her husband and exhaustion, the woman caught the scent of burning wood in the middle of the jungle’s aromas. She heard the sound of a nearby river, quickened her pace, and after two banana leaves, she saw a clearing and a small hut beside a dark yet present river.

She held her husband tightly and, with the last of her strength, moved toward the door. Without knocking, the door opened, and she and the man collapsed onto the dry dirt floor.

Between sleep and wakefulness, the woman slowly tried to regain consciousness.

«You almost didn’t make it,» she heard a woman’s voice to her right. Startled, she tried to sit up, and the owner of the house helped her.

«Your husband is beside you…if that’s what worries you so much.» The dim light of the fire in the center of what seemed like a circular hut allowed her to see, through the darkness, the silhouette of the man she had carried through the jungle. With a bit more peace of mind, she tried to focus on her benefactor. She was an elderly woman, with a long gray braid that nearly reached the floor, bent over and small, sitting beside her with her hair touching the ground.

«I understand why you’re here, and I imagine it wasn’t easy. I’m not close to the village. I admire your determination, but I have to tell you, he is not well. I know you know this, but there’s not much I can do.»

Immediately, the woman burst into tears, soaked, exhausted, and angry. She felt her heart breaking with her tears. «You’ll have to understand,» the old woman told her. «Half of his heart no longer works, and you cannot live like that. It would take the other half to save him. Who would be willing to sacrifice their life for another?» The woman stopped crying and stared at the old woman. «I see, he’s your family, you’re brave, and I like that. In that case, let me see if we can find a solution to this.» She stood up as best she could, and the bent figure slowly but nimbly gathered a pot and placed it on the fire, searched among jars and dishes, and began mixing something that smelled like a good broth with water.

She took out two mugs and served them. «You should know that out of one half and one whole, you don’t make two. But you can make just one; it won’t be the same, but at least you’ll be well and together. Are you willing then?» The woman nodded. «If so, give him all this broth to drink, and when he’s done, you drink yours. There’s nothing better for the soul than a good broth; it cures everything…» Quickly, the woman took the man’s head and placed it on her lap, and with difficulty but urgency, she gave him the broth to drink. When he was done, she almost drank hers in one gulp; it wasn’t hard—it tasted delicious and warmed her body. When she finished, she felt sleepy, moved closer to her husband, and fell deeply asleep.

«Oh, I see you’re waking up; it’s almost dawn, how timely,» said the old woman as she watched them. She saw him, and he saw her. There they were, together, two but the same, looking at each other, illuminated by the light of dawn and the fire—the green bluish of their bodies and the scarlet red of their chests. They were no longer two; they were one, a beautiful quetzal in front of that old woman.

«It turned out better than I expected. You’ll be together forever. Now, it’s time to leave and fly, but remember, for two wings to work and rise, both must be at the same level, as equals.»

With a couple of hops, the bird reached the door and, in a display of elegance and beauty, took flight towards the green mountain.