The Legend of Quetzal

The fire blazes bright, sending embers dancing up into the sky to flicker and die out amongst the light of the burning stars. Sounds of laughter and music fill the night air. The smell of roasting meat wafts above the usual lush green scent of the forest. Cacique sits, sipping his chucua and watches his son celebrate with the rest of his people. As he should. Quetzal is a warrior now, a man. He has proven himself in battle.

Young boys still not old enough to be warriors sit and listen, enraptured by the tale of Quetzal's bravery.

"They stole into our forest just before the sun rose," Gabor has their full attention as he recounts the day's events. "But they were not cunning enough to go unseen. Sachihiro was on watch. He heard them and raised the alarm. Our warriors met them before they could come near our village, Quetzal among them."

"He-" Hadwin tries to take over but Gabor silences the younger boy with a glare.

"Quetzal charged them, screaming like a mad man. His arrows flew, one after the other—each one finding their mark. Their archers soon realized what a threat Quetzal had become and tried to retaliate. But their arrows fell short-"

"I saw an arrow fall to the ground before it could touch him! It should have-" Gabor shoves Hadwin off of the log they sit on and continues as though he hadn't been interrupted.

"Their arrows fell short, or flew right past Quetzal. He didn't take even one injury in the fight. He is protected by the gods, surely." The young boys all nod their heads in excitement and plead with Gabor to tell them more.

Cacique shakes his head and smiles to himself. Soon the stories will stop and the music will be silenced. The wise men will come and tell them what is to be Quetzal's destiny.

This night may never have come, Cacique thinks. He and his wife had prayed for so long to have a son that would follow in his footsteps and become chief of the Quiche people. So long, that they had almost given up hope. Chiruma would have to become chief after him. But finally the gods had blessed them with a child. On the day Quetzal was born a hummingbird had landed in a tree outside of their home. It was the largest hummingbird Cacique had ever seen and he had summoned the wise men, sure that it was a sign. The wise men agreed. The bird was a sign from the gods that Quetzal would be a strong chief one day. But there was more. More that they wouldn't say, but would tell them when the time was right.

Cacique's wife settles in beside him. He squeezes her hand and raises it to his lips before he turns his attention to the wizened, white-haired men slowly coming towards the fire. It was time.

Quetzal makes his way to the fire, and the wise men waiting for him there. He clutches the necklace given to him by these men the day he was born. A hummingbird feather on a thin leather chord. He turns to his mother and father and smiles. He seeks out his uncle, but instead of returning his smile, Chiruma looks away. Quetzal doesn't have time to contemplate what Chiruma means by the gesture. He stands before the wise men, who begin to speak.

"Quetzal, son of Cacique, Chief of the Quiche people," The wise man placed his leathery hand over Quetzal's heart, covering the feather with his palm. "It has been said that you will be chief, after your father. You will be a great protector of the tribe." His voice carried through the clearing despite its soft hoarseness. His milky eyes met Quetzal's before continuing. "The gods have chosen you. You will never die."

As cheers went up around him, Quetzal looks to his family. His mother's eyes shine in the light of the fire. His father places his hand over his heart and nods his approval to Quetzal. His uncle only puts his cup down and storms away before Quetzal could see the expression on his face. Again Quetzal could not imagen what was wrong with Chiruma. Is he not proud that his nephew will live forever to protect his people?