Love Me for Eternity || Bruno Madrigal

Chapter 39: Deja Vu

6 YEARS LATER

"Tell me everything, Mateo."

Sitting poised inside the lonely room was Alma; back straight, shoulders taut, jaw firm. Mateo paced around, shadows stretching and grabbing on to the soles of his shoes with every flicker of the light from the candelabra. It was tense, almost suffocating. He breathed out a breath, then another, and another until finally, he spoke.

"I think they're gone." Mateo supplied. Alma pursed her lips, a furrow of her brows indicating her confusion—or was it contemplation? He couldn't quite tell.

"They've been looking for us for almost thirty years. Why would they suddenly stop?" Mateo shook his head, took a seat on the nearest chair, and examined the blades that lined the shelves of the Alcantara basement; polished and sharp they were, meticulously maintained by your father with great care.

"It's been four years since the last sighting. My daughter and I confirmed it. As reluctant as we were, we climbed the peak to check during the night and camped out for a month. There was nothing out there, as far as we could tell."

"How about North? Near the river?" Alma pointed on the map littered with arrows, circles, and dots, her finger landing on a long stream of blue. Mateo shook his head.

"East, west, south—we even checked near the cliffside cluster. It's almost as if they disappeared."

Alma thought back to that fateful day; the founding of the Encanto. Pedro died to sacrifice himself, thus giving them a miracle. Despite being saved from the clutches of savages who wished to do them harm, the refuge can only do as much as hide them from those who lie in wait from the outside. For years they have searched for them, and they were lucky enough to not have been discovered yet. It must be the miracle, she thought. The magic kept them protected.

Mateo—for the longest time—didn't know why those people outside the mountain continued to pursue them. Surely there were more villages to raid and pillage throughout Colombia. Their dwindling patrols came as a relief to him, and when you confirmed that they were nowhere to be found for the last four years, it was like a weight off from his shoulders.

Well, mostly. He was still terrified at the thought that they were still out there somewhere, looking for the people who eluded during the night twenty nine years ago.

Alma gripped her shawl closer to her chest, finding a bit of comfort under the fabric. She desperately imagined it was Pedro's embrace, and that gave her some sort of solace as she said; "We still must not be complacent. Who knows when they'll be back."

Mateo nodded in agreement. "Of course. My daughter and I will still continue with the patrols as usual," your father paused. He looked down on the map in thought, crinkling his brows in concentration. Alma couldn't help but notice the growing lines that formed on his features from age, and she wondered if she looked the same. Mateo sucked his teeth and leaned back on the chair to look directly at her. "...if they're gone in the next year, we'll have to assume that the outside is safe again."

Alma frowned. "Are you sure? Just because there were no sightings doesn't mean the war isn't over."

"The war had already started ever since we were kids. They were drafting men from our old village as well. Pedro and I were lucky we weren't taken to the city," Mateo took one bolo from the pile to his left, stood up, and grated it against the turning whetstone stationed on a worktable on the corner. It was hard for him to maintain weapons with one hand, but he managed. Alma cringed at the scraping metal, but she didn't voice her complaints. "Chances are the war is finished; maybe a side surrendered, maybe there was a ceasefire, who knows? It's odd to have it so quiet on the outside for the past few years."