by Emily Asad
Chapter 7: Pa’i Shumé
The decision to quit feeling sorry for himself was the best thing Sebastian could have done. He did not realize it, but half of his burdens came from carrying them. Now, as he learned to look at problems in an objective manner, the rest of his journey – though not less difficult – was strangely much easier.
He decided that it might be prudent to take a day of rest. After three weeks of steady travel, both he and his animals were growing gaunt and hard-muscled, and the fort offered temporary safety.
The dog helped him herd the animals into an abandoned stable where the paddock had grown over with tall grass. The horses were thrilled and immediately began to roll. Sebastian shook his head to see how shaggy they had become and promised to currycomb them extra special tonight. The goats, too, seemed to recognize their little holiday, for they frisked about back and forth as if they were kids again.
A little room attached to the stable would allow Sebastian to keep an eye on his livestock while he took inventory of his dwindling provisions. He laid everything out on the packed dirt floor, dismayed at what he saw. There was only enough bread for another day or so. The oats for the horses was gone, but they and the other animals seemed to have no problem finding tall grasses and stalks to eat. The bull had become an expert at finding hidden bits of greenery, although he had lost his handsome roundness and Sebastian could now count his ribs. Even the chickens enjoyed their little worms and grubs - which, Sebastian realized, he might have to eat once the remaining bread was gone.
It took Sebastian’s remaining strength to assemble a fire. Blowing on the little sparks required a level of control that his cracked ribs could not provide, so he had to give up after just a few minutes. He resisted the urge to take the pain medicine, though; it would be more valuable to him tomorrow. Instead, he checked on the animals one last time before rolling out his blanket and collapsing into a deep, deep sleep, not to awaken until the sun’s rays filtered through the open window the next morning.
Refreshed both mentally and physically, he gulped down the medicine and ate an entire loaf of bread, preparing himself for a long journey. They had been traveling slowly to accommodate the smaller animals, but now everyone was used to walking long distances each day so Sebastian wanted to pick up the pace.
Four days out of Spiritu Sancti he lost another pig to the mysterious phantom who could take animals out of their ropes without a sound.
He began to wonder if it was the same person who had treated him for the broken ribs. If so, then he was definitely being followed, and had been ever since he left the pirate’s cove. If not, then what animal in the forest could be so stealthy that not even the guard dog noticed?
It made him uneasy, thinking about the people of the region. He knew that Buen Aire, another Spanish fort, had been under constant attack by the Querendi Indians, a fierce warrior people who did not appreciate having Spaniards in their territory. He wondered if the same tribe had also driven out the soldiers at Spiritu Sancti. The thought made him edgy. What if they were still in the area? What if they hunted Europeans?
Several days later, his questions were answered.