Pepa spent the better part of an hour searching high and low for Antonio, often just missing him, no thanks to various jungle critters vying for her attention. The capybara stayed at her heel, babies in tow, all chittering expectantly at her. The things sounded like guinea pigs on caffeine. Except Pepa heard more than just their animal noises. She also understood the chirrups as if they were plain Spanish.

"Can we have food? We want leaves! Mami, can we suckle? Mami, when is the angry lady gonna feed us leaves?"

And then the coatis started in. "Feed us first! Play with us! Can we play with lizards? We want lizards to eat! Can we have the shiny things on your ears?"

The toucan perched on Pepa's head had its own two cents to add. "Fruit first! Pico gets food first! Pico wants papaya! Weasels stay down!"

The coatis apparently objected to being called weasels and barked insults at Pico, scrambling up Pepa's back to try and reach him.

"Hey! Stop it! Get off!" Pepa spun in place, grabbing at coatis while Pico flapped his wings, scolding the procyonids that had taken such offense at him.

The cacophony of animal pleas reached such a pitch that Pepa was finally driven to scream, "EVERYONE SIT DOWN AND SHUT UP!"

To her surprise and relief, every animal heeded her command, stunned. The capybara pups huddled behind their mother in fear. Pepa puffed at a stray lock of hair that had gotten in her face and regarded the animals before her. "Now, we're going to go up to Antonio's room and stay there like good little animals until I can find him. No arguments, and you'll all get your food when it's time for it. Got it?"

The animals all mumbled their agreement.

"Good." Pepa took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "Clear skies, clear skies," she chanted to herself. Finally in a better mood, she nodded at the animals. "Now, follow me, please. This way."

She led the animals upstairs and to Antonio's room. It was the first time she'd actually observed the flashing doors upstairs. She saw Julieta's food and herb motifs flickering on Antonio's door and snorted in amusement. Her youngest had never set foot in Julieta's kitchen, so it would be interesting to see if he tried it today, or if her sister would help him. And yet...

"I checked the kitchen multiple times and he wasn't there," Pepa muttered to herself. "So where is he?"

She let herself into Antonio's room and was immediately greeted by an eager jaguar, whose enthusiasm once again sent the capybara pups scrambling for cover behind their mother. Pepa didn't mind the jaguar. He was friendly with most of the family, though Félix was clearly intimidated by him unless he was fully under Antonio's control. Pepa reached down and gave the jaguar chin scritches. He let out a low rumble of contentment that Pepa guessed was supposed to pass as purring, although Antonio had informed her very adamantly that jaguars could not purr.

"It looks like I'm supposed to take care of you for today," Pepa told the big cat. "But I don't have the slightest idea how. And I can't find Antonio. Why is he so good at disappearing?"

The jaguar vocalized. "He's not here. I would smell him," Pepa's brain translated automatically. She nodded at the cat.

"Listen, I need to find Antonio so he can help me with all of you. Can I trust you all to be on your best behavior in here until I come back?"

Pico perched on her arm. "Trust Pico. Not snake. Snake makes fun. Not fun for Pico."

Pepa tensed. She'd forgotten that Antonio even had a snake. Snakes weren't her favorite animals, and she was content to leave them entirely to her son. "Well...let's get you all to the treehouse," she said, swallowing her nerves and leading the animals further into the room.

The coatis immediately took up positions in Antonio's hammock. There was room for a bed if he wanted one, but he enjoyed the hammock he usually slept in. The animals clearly did too.

A tapir tapped its trunk-like nose on Pepa's leg and greeted her. "Hello. You are not Antonio."

"No, I'm not," Pepa said. "You can thank my brother for that. I'm going to find Antonio, though, as soon as I get these little ones settled." She turned to usher the capybara pups over to their mother, who settled down and chirped at her offspring to join her.

"Swim later," the sow promised them. They squeaked excitedly in response.

Pepa couldn't help but smile. They were pretty cute. And she wished she had half the chill their mother did. Capybaras were famous for being quite laid back, and Pepa found herself envying the sow's serenity.

"Alright, everyone," Pepa said, clapping her hands together. "I want you all to behave in here while I go find Antonio and ask him how to take care of you. No eating each other! Casita's in charge."

Pepa retreated across the bridge between the treehouse and the landing, slipping out the door before any animals would be tempted to follow her. She closed the door securely behind herself and breathed a sigh of relief. Free of distractions, she made her way down to the kitchen to wait for Antonio. At some point, he would end up there, she was certain.

When she got to the kitchen, it was a smoldering mess. There was no way this was Julieta's doing. The woman kept her kitchen immaculate. Pepa pressed her face into her hands and groaned at her offspring's handiwork. She ran a hand down her face and got to work cleaning up. It was the least she could do after inadvertently letting her kid loose in there. And it would pass the time while she waited.

She had just finished wiping counters when she heard voices approaching. One was her sister's. The other was the cheerful chattering of her youngest son. When the two entered the kitchen, a rather unpleasant smell hit Pepa's nostrils. It emanated from a platter Julieta carried.

Antonio ran up to greet his mother. "Mami, Tía Julieta and I are gonna make food together to help people!"

"Uh huh. And where have you been, Toñito?" Pepa asked sternly, still not impressed with how Antonio had seemingly been avoiding her.

The boy squirmed in his place. "Um...I was just trying to help people."

"You could've started by helping your mami with your animals," Pepa scolded. "Or at least telling me where you were going. I was getting worried, mijo."

"Sorry, Mami."

"Thanks for cleaning up in here, hermana," Julieta said, dumping the burnt, foul smelling mess off the platter into the garbage. "Antonio decided to try his hand at cooking on his own."

"So I gathered. Did it work, though?"

"Amazingly, yes," Julieta said with a chuckle. "But the folks in town weren't terribly impressed with the remedy. Also, did you know Camilo has apparently been teaching Antonio how to lie on the spot?"

Pepa gave a low growl of frustration. "Of course he has been," she muttered.

"Saved me quite a bit of embarrassment today, though."

"Tía's gonna teach me how to make lunch," Antonio practically shouted, trying to change the subject.

"True," Julieta said. "But first, I think your mami wants your help. She doesn't know how to take care of your animals, remember? You need to show her what to do for their lunch before you help me make the family's lunch."

Antonio fidgeted. "But...my animals are scared of me now."

"What do you mean, Toñito?" Pepa asked.

"When the candle went boom, all of my animals ran away, and I couldn't get them to come to me."

"They were probably just scared of the magic," Julieta said. "I bet they're waiting for you to come back and try to help them understand what's going on."

"Your long-nosed friend is, anyway," Pepa said.

"That's Nariz," Antonio said. "He's a tapir."

"And you can tell me all of the animals' names while we're working. I only know Pico, who likes fruit and picking on other animals."

"Yep, that's him. He likes to argue with the coatis."

Antonio chattered on about his animals as he walked hand-in-hand with his mamá up the stairs.

It didn't take as long as Pepa anticipated for Antonio to show her what animals needed feeding for the day, as well as how to care for them. Most were self-sufficient, and Antonio's magical bedroom provided for many of the animals' basic needs. Chispi and the tapirs needed fresh hay, Parce the jaguar got a big chunk of meat in the evening if he was unsuccessful hunting in the jungle surrounding Encanto, and Pico and the other toucans were content with the fruit that grew naturally on the trees in the room. The coatis got dry cat food for lunch and were left to hunt for their own food for the rest of the day.

And there was no need for poop scooping, as the bugs that resided in the soil of the jungle room took care of all such waste. Much to Pepa's relief and disappointment. She'd have to find another suitable punishment for Bruno.

"All ya really gotta do is listen to the animals and also make sure they're all getting along," Antonio said, giving Parce a thorough chin scratch. "That's kinda the hard part, though, 'cause some of them like to argue, and some of them are predators and like to pick on the prey animals. And Parce is super playful, 'cause he's a cat. So you gotta let him play, but not with Chispi or anything that can't fly."

Pepa was currently engaged in scratching the belly of a coati that had practically gone into a trance from the soothing action. She smiled as its tongue lolled. "So just keep the kids from fighting. I can do that. I'm a mamá."

Antonio giggled. "Well, I gotta go help Tía Julieta. Have fun, Mami!" He dashed across the bridge to the door, waving as he went.

"Be good for your tía, mijo!" Pepa called as Antonio slipped out the door, leaving her alone with his menagerie.

Once Antonio was gone, Pepa took a breath. "Okay, I've got this," she said, giving the coati one last belly rub before rising to check on the other animals. She realized that she hadn't actually taken the time to properly explore Antonio's room. It held a whole forest and river, with lots of places for his animals to hide, climb and play. There were even fish in the river.

One particularly large fish made its way to the surface as Pepa watched. It moved so quickly that Pepa felt the need to step back. But the "fish" breached the water's surface first, blasting a fountain of water in Pepa's face from its blowhole. The animal then squeaked and squealed at her.

"Welcome, welcome, Yellow Boy's mamá!"

Pepa sputtered, trying to get the taste of tropical river water out of her mouth. She stared in surprise at the river dolphin a moment, shook her head and smiled. "Uh...thank you. I didn't realize Antonio had a dolphin too."

"Eee! Come swim, come swim! So much fun!" The dolphin rolled onto its side and slapped the water with a flipper.

Pepa shook her head. "I think I'll hold off on that, but thank you." Pepa turned and headed back up the treehouse's pathway.

When she arrived at Antonio's usual sleeping area, she froze. There, basking on one of the limbs Antonio's hammock was tied to, was a large boa constrictor. The snake turned and fixed her with an unblinking stare, and Pepa shivered.

"Clear skies, clear skies," she whispered to herself, swallowing her nerves as she approached the serpent. "So...you must be...um..." she wracked her brain, trying to recall what Antonio had told her he'd named his snake. "You must be Llave."

"I don't like the strange magic."

Pepa blinked. That wasn't exactly the response she was expecting.

"Blinking is rude."

Nor was that.

"Why is it rude?" Pepa dared to ask.

"Snakes have no eyelids. We know creatures with eyelids must blink. But do not do it to communicate with us."

"Oh. So sorry." Pepa pushed that bit of unsettling knowledge to the back of her mind and instead searched for something engaging to say. How had she ended up here, trying to make conversation with a snake? "Th-the magic is strange today," she said. "But it'll be all back to normal by this time tomorrow."

"Good," came Llave's reply. She moved off of her perch and slithered along the trunk of the tree in Pepa's direction. Pepa squirmed uncomfortably, and she could swear the snake was smirking at her. Llave stopped to observe Chispi's pups, curled in a pile next to their dozing mother.

"It's time to eat."

"Oh nononono!" Pepa said, stepping between the boa and the capybaras. "Antonio left strict instructions that no one is to eat anyone here!"

One corner of Llave's mouth twitched upward. Pepa swore she saw it. The snake had her right where she wanted her.

"You are such a nervous human."

"Well, I'm not used to working with snakes," Pepa admitted.

"We're so easy, though. Just feed us and we're happy."

It dawned on Pepa that, while Antonio had introduced her to Llave, he'd neglected to give instructions for feeding her. "Okay, well, we'll have to find some food from somewhere else for you. So...what does Antonio normally feed you?"

"The boy brings me rabbits. Good sized ones. I catch them and coil around them. I give them a good squeeze, then I swallow them."

Pepa shuddered. Did the snake need to be so descriptive? It certainly seemed to be enjoying Pepa's discomfort. Fortunately, she knew who in town raised meat rabbits. "Very well. I'll go into town and get you a rabbit."

"Alive," Llave insisted. "Just like the jaguar, I require enrichment."

"Don't ask, just do...not...ask," Pepa muttered to herself as she headed toward the door to carry out Llave's errand.

She was swift out the door, closing it securely behind her. She did not hear the bemused remarks passed between Parce and Llave.

"You're so mean, you know."

"I know, but the humans must learn about the circle of life. And it's fun."

Jorge (who did not make the spackle) was usually the one to sell the meat rabbits, but it was his teenage son who made the sale today, as Jorge was occupied elsewhere. Pepa accepted the nervous bunny and thanked the boy, who shrugged and asked no questions. Pepa turned and hurried back with her bundle, not daring to speak to it or even look at it. As she trudged back toward la Casa Madrigal, she could sense anxiety rising in the little bundle of fur in her arms.

"The Black Rabbit comes," the rabbit projected.

Pepa looked around, confused. Where was a black rabbit? The one she held was gray and white.

"You hear me!" The bunny began to squirm in her arms. "Do not take me to the Black Rabbit of Inle!"

Now Pepa was thoroughly confused as she tried to hold onto the bunny. "No, please hold still!"

A thrust of the rabbit's powerful hind legs carried it out of her arms and into the bushes like a shot.

"Great!" Pepa huffed. Now she'd have to chase it down.

Onlookers watched, amused as they were confused, as Pepa Madrigal scrambled through the flora of the Encanto valley, calling for a rabbit. It was certainly not a dignified look for her, and Pepa was becoming increasingly aware of that.

She finally cornered the bunny next to the church. It stared at her with pleading eyes. "Oh, please don't look at me like that," Pepa begged. "Believe me, I wouldn't do this if I didn't have to."

"You're one of the Thousand!" the bunny practically squeaked. "You hear me, but you're elil! Frith save me! I don't want to stop running!"

Of all the animals she'd listened to that day, rabbits were the strangest, Pepa decided. And also the most depressing. She bit her lip and choked back a sob as she reached for the rabbit. She plucked it up as firmly and gently as she could.

But it screamed. And Pepa's resolve broke. Forget the snake; she couldn't do this.

"Stop! It's alright! I won't hurt you!"

She must've looked ridiculous, she thought; a grown woman, standing beside the church, weeping over a rabbit. But the animal began to calm down. Pepa breathed a sigh of relief.

"I'm not going to let any harm come to you," she promised the rabbit. It relaxed. Perhaps it could sense the sincerity in her voice.

"What's wrong, Mami?" came another voice, a much more familiar and welcome one this time.

Pepa turned to see Antonio, who carried an empty platter under one arm. "Oh, I'm so glad you're here, mijo! I'm sorry, but I can't feed Llave. I just don't have it in me."

Antonio set the platter down and reached for the rabbit, which Pepa gladly passed to him. "You don't have to feed Llave. She just ate three days ago."

"But...what?"

"Snakes don't eat every day. Llave only needs to eat every week. And I get Señor Jorge to give me the bunnies that already...stopped running. Tía Julieta knows. She gets them for me, usually."

"Hold on," Pepa said, pinching the bridge of her nose. "You mean to tell me that Llave's not actually hungry, and that she eats pre-killed?"

Antonio nodded. "Boas like to try to get more food than they need. They're kinda like mammals like that. Or like Camilo. And Llave doesn't need a live bunny. I just play with her food in front of her, and it's just as good as if she hunted it herself."

Pepa placed her hands on her hips. "Well...I feel a perfect fool. I think I need to have a little talk with Señorita Llave."

Antonio giggled. "Llave likes to mess with others. Come on, I gotta take the platter back and get more food. Señor Osvaldo is waiting for the doctor to come back."

For such a small boy, Antonio was surprisingly dextrous, gently hefting the rabbit in one arm so he could pick up the platter. Pepa was impressed and reached to help.

"Let me carry the platter, mijo. You just help keep our bunny friend here calm. Before he starts calling for this Frith person again."

"Embleer-rah," came the rabbit's voice, directed at Pepa. From the tone of it, Pepa was certain she'd just been cussed out. Oh well, she probably deserved it.

"You tricked me!" Pepa huffed, jabbing a finger in Llave's face the moment she got back to Antonio's treehouse.

"Using limbs to communicate with snakes is rude."

"I do not care right now! I'll be as rude to you as I like! You forced me to traumatize a rabbit!"

"Rabbits are prey." The boa shrugged. Odd how a snake could so easily shrug without actual shoulders. "The boy knows this. I allow him to bring me food that is already dead, because it's hard at his age to accept the circle of life. Humans don't understand it."

Pepa sighed. "We do understand it, we just resist some of the more...unpleasant things about it."

"It's your duty." Llave dipped her head in concession. "We accept that humans are complex things. That there are things humans both must and must not accept. Death is one. Death gives way to life. It wasn't always that way, but it is now, and we accept it."

Pepa stared slack jawed at the snake. Of all the traits she ascribed to the legless reptiles, wisdom was not one. Her mistake, she supposed. She shook her head. She still had a bone to pick.

"You told me you needed to eat, when you only need to eat once a week, and you'd already eaten three days ago!"

Llave flicked her tongue at Pepa's finger, which was still pointed squarely at the snake's snout. "I was messing with you. I do that."

"Well, I'm wise to you now...wait, what are you doing?"

Llave had worked her way onto Pepa's hand, causing the woman to freeze with uncertainty. The boa slithered up Pepa's arm, letting the rest of her body drop behind her, forcing Pepa to catch her. She looked her keeper's mother in the eye.

"Am I so abhorrent?"

It took Pepa a moment to process the fact that she was holding all seven feet of a boa in her arms. She suddenly grinned. "Oh, you are an imp," she chastised. "But no, you're not abhorrent."

"Good. Because you're very warm. I like warm places."

And that's how Pepa, who formerly hated snakes, ended up wearing a boa for the rest of the day.

AN: Sorry it took so long to update, but I was suffering from writer's block. Yes, my chapters are getting longer. I'll try to rectify that next chapter. Fair warning, the next chapter's gonna be a lot of talk and not necessarily a whole lot of action. It focuses on Mariano and how he's handling Pepa's weather.