Tanhí did not get better, instead his condition continued to deteriorate. Eventually, after the third time he collapsed, I had to carry him despite his feeble insistence that he could continue walking.
Walking while carrying him is excruciating and at a worms pace, we can still get past the savannah eventually. The rain has stopped, but the clouds remain so we will not have to be sun dried. Staying out in the sun can lead one to have burns on the skin, or to be dehydrated and perish from lack of fluid. The shade provided by the clouds prevent this, as does the rain.
Rain, however, has its own problems. It can cause one to slip in the mud, drown, or become so cold that the internal heat produced by our bodies is extinguished like the embers of a lightning struck tree. It is strange that the people are afraid of fire; it keeps away predatory creatures and provides warmth. If it were not a beacon by which others could find us, I would have learned how to use it to sustain myself and possibly searched for a way to prevent the rain from causing it to die.
I do not want Tanhí to die, because if he died I would want to die as well. I have already lost one loved one, I do not need to lose another.
It was in the jungle, Txon and I were traveling southward as usual. Tanhí was just a small baby, hopefully not big enough to remember how his mother died.
We were living in a cave for the past week, and were about to head out to find food so that Tanhí could grow up to be big and strong. We did not get far when tragedy struck. We were gathering roots from the ground when a growling was heard. Not wanting to risk finding out what was attacking, I screamed.
"Txon, Run!"
We ran fast, but knew we would not be able to get far. We were only able to find cover beneath a fallen log for a few minutes. Our lungs and hearts pounded so violently and horrifically that them bursting would have been a mutual fear if we were not being hunted. A vicious palulukan clawed at the log, trying to reach us so that he could tear us to shreds and devour us.
Txon is panting exhaustedly when she speaks, "Nì'awtu, it won't stop until it gets one of us. I don't want to lose you."
It dons on me what she intends to do, and my eyes widen with horror. Before I say anything, she continues.
"When I go out, I need you to run back and take Tanhí to saftey. Listen, I need you to promise you will take care of our son and do whatever it takes to protect him. Promise me you will do this."
I am still numb from the horror, but I am able to force out some words. "Yes, I promise."
Before she leaves, we kiss one last time. "I will always love you."
She heads off to distract the palulukan, and I run back to the cave to get Tanhí.
Tears stream down my face as I hear the monstrous roar and the agonizing screams that seem faint in comparison. I ran for longer than I could remember, not caring about the cuts that tore my feet and ankles until blood ran from them, nor did I care that I was running so fast and with so little breath that I was at the verge of suffocation.
The only thing I could possibly think about was that Txon was gone. The woman I loved more than anyone else in the world was gone and I would never see her again.
I do not know how long I ran. Minutes, years; it does not matter. I somehow found the cave and was able to crawl inside and found that Tanhí was still asleep.
I wailed for hours upon hours, not stopping until midnight three days later.
I kept my son alive then, and I must find a way to save him now. No matter what happens, he must survive. I can not allow my promise to be broken, even if it will doom my son to continue on as a orphan. I hope I can save him.