“And what are you going to do all day, silly American girl, while your husband is hunting? Comb your pretty hair and look in the mirror?”

She cut off a slab of meat and plopped it down on my plate.

“She doesn’t eat meat,” Omar said, taking the plate from me.

Her brows furrowed. “Alérgica?” Allergic?

“Because I love animals,” I said breathily, feeling like an asshole.

Doña Antonia threw her head back in peals of cackling laughter, her few teeth on display. “Oh, that’s a funny one! You know, because we love animals, too, a lot, you see?” She took a big bite of meat, chewed as she smiled at me. “I like this girl, Omar, my boy. This one makes me laugh.”

In some distant way I was hungry, starving in fact, but I couldn’t bring myself to feel it as I had when we were in the hut. Omar got up and scooped out some of the yucca, adding from another pot what looked like cooked onions and garlic. I took a few bites, but that was all I could manage. The yucca tasted like air, badly in need of salt, but I forced myself to swallow.

Several of the men slipped off their hammocks and joined us, either cross-legged on the floor or on low benches. All wore the uniform of old gym shorts or cutoffs and nothing else. There were half a dozen swarthy teenagers—Omar’s size or smaller, muscular, quiet; a few stole shy looks at me—and two or three much older men—ropey, sunbaked, and wizened, but tough as nails; a ragtag group of hunters.

Franz and Panchito climbed the stairs, deep in conversation. His brothers joined Omar and the other men at the impromptu meeting.

“We’re grateful Omar has come,” Franz said after taking a plate of food. The men nodded, mumbling their agreement. “We need to keep Ayachero strong. Strong in provisions and strong in spirit.” His pitted face darkened. “Omar’s been hunting since we were children. He and our father used to hunt jaguar with the Tatinga, back when we traded with one another.”

One burly young man spoke up. “We’re the best hunters on the river.”

“You’re all great hunters,” Franz said, “but we all need to learn from each other. Game is scarcer now, I don’t have to tell you this. We have to go farther and farther out to hunt, stay away longer and longer. It’s been hard on all of our families. Killing the sow last night was something we shouldn’t have had to do. The poachers are growing in number, and they’ll take anything. Now we’re in competition with the Tatinga. I don’t have to tell you how dangerous this is.”

The men mumbled, joked uncomfortably.

“We’ll need to build a platform,” Omar said. “You all know how difficult it is to hunt jaguar. They always know where you are, but only now and then do you see signs of them, or even see one.”

“I’ve never seen one,” the burly man said. “Only prints.”