Page 79 of The Lost Guardian

Ali waited for him to continue.

“I keep trying to convince myself this isn’t real,” he admitted. “Even after all we’ve seen, after José…” He swallowed. “I keep wanting to explain it away somehow.”

Ali nodded. “I get that.”

“But it is real, and we only have four days left,” he said softly. “What if we can’t—”

“We will,” she interrupted him.

Santiago wished he could be so sure.

“We still have a lot of daylight left,” she said. “We might even make it to the cave by today. Who knows, maybe that’s the location of the tomb.”

“I don’t think it’ll be that easy,” Santiago lamented.

“You think everything we’ve been through so far has been easy?” she teased him, and he couldn’t help but grin at her.

“You really think the cave might be it?” Santiago asked her hopefully.

“There’s only one way to find out.”

Together, they turned right, as the ceque directed them, and carried on.

…

As Santiago and Ali hiked, the flat, arid landscape of the forest shifted. Soft, springy grass under their feet changed to gravel and loose stone, the crunch of it under their boots a sharp contrast to the surrounding tranquility. As the trail climbed, so did they, with a sharp drop of the cliffside to their right.

From their height they could see the river—the true Cumbemayo River—an unnatural turquoise that cut through the valley with a quiet ferocity that felt contradictory to its serene presence. The higher they ascended, the thinner the air became, and Santiago changed out the wad of coca leaves in his mouth twice, hoping to counteract its suffocating presence.

Just as Santiago was about to swallow his pride and ask for another break, they turned the corner to see an enormous tree with long hanging vines in their path. Santiago could have wept with relief. It was the second waka. Proof that they were traveling on the right path and were not conquering the miles in vain.

Santiago dropped his pack and stretched his torso, inhaling as deeply as he could. Breathing had come a bit easier to him in the past hours, but he didn’t want Ali to know that he’d gotten dizzy several times during their hike.

As always, she missed nothing.

“How’re you feeling?” she asked. “Are you all right?”

Completely fine, he thought as he noticed her flushed skin and the delicately curling hair sticking to her neck and temples. You just take my breath away.

Nope. Absolutely not. He wouldn’t utter anything so corny. He didn’t even know where the words had come from. What was this woman doing to him?

Oh. Santiago stilled, allowing bittersweet memory to blossom in his chest.

He was young, holding his mother’s hand and walking down Santa Monica Pier. His dad had run up behind them, holding two dripping ice cream cones. Santi smelled the vanilla and felt the sticky wetness on his fingers as his father passed him one, panting.

“You need more exercise!” Mami had laughed, accepting her own cone. “You can hardly breathe!”

“I could, mi sol,” his papi answered. “If you didn’t keep taking my breath away.”

Santiago shook off the image.

“I swear I’m not this out of shape,” he joked instead, trying his best to not look pathetic. “This is embarrassing.”

“I told you, soroche finds a way to humble people,” she said.

“Oh, it’s doing more than that.” He groaned. “I’m pretty sure it’s mocking me at this point.”

Ali pinched her lips together, but Santiago could tell she held in a laugh.