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slaughtered, where wailing ghosts howled for revenge, was not the place to find the rest she so badly needed. She continued her journey, picking her way through the broken stones and half-buried foundations to the tall Kapok tree where the eagle perched.
    Majestically the bird rose into the air, circled the Mayan ruins and dropped lower to peer at what was left of the foundations of more recent destruction. The sharp eyes examined the ground as it flew overhead, then it dipped even lower, nearly skimming the jaguar before rising abruptly, the giant wingspan taking the large raptor back into the cover of the canopy.
    The jaguar felt the beat of those powerful wings as it passed so close to her. She raised her head and watched until the eagle was out of sight, her only reaction before she took to the tree, using her claws to aid her ascent. She stood for a moment looking at the empty sky, feeling absolutely and utterly alone, her sorrow a heavy burden. She couldn’t afford to feel sorrow. She needed this trip to dredge up anger; no, not anger—that wasn’t enough to sustain her when she was alone and exhausted and wounded. She needed a well of rage, a weapon honed by years of fighting evil, fighting for women who couldn’t fight for themselves.
    She found a comfortable crook in a wide limb and settled her aching body, sheltered from the endless rain, and tucked her head on her paws, looking down at the wreckage of her village. The ruins receded and she stared at the destruction of what had once been her home. The overgrown brush disappeared in her mind, and the sacred spot was no longer a blood-soaked graveyard but a place of the living with four small houses and a cornfield and vegetable garden.
    At once she could hear the sound of laughter, of children playing on the cleared ground, kicking a ball around. Her younger brothers, Avery and Adam, both looked so much like her beloved stepfather. He’d been so tall and handsome, his face always smiling, lifting her high in the air and spinning her like a top, making her feel like a princess there in the midst of the rain forest. There was her best friend, Marcy, as well as Marcy’s brother, Phin, a tall, serious boy who loved to read. Marcy could always get him to play their games with her winning smile and big green eyes. Their parents . . .
    The jaguar blinked, trying to remember the names of Marcy and Phin’s parents. How could she forget? She would never forget these people. She was the only person left to mark their existence. Agitated, she rose, her sides heaving, panting, tongue lolling as she struggled with her sluggish brain to recall the two people who had been so good to everyone in the small homestead. Annika and Joseph.
    Breathing heavily, she settled once more on the branch. The third house belonged to Aunt Audrey, her mother’s younger sister, with her daughters Juliette and little Jasmine, her newest cousin. She was very close to Juliette, as they were less than a year apart in age and went between the two houses all the time. The fourth structure held the majority of the children—four boys and two girls, all orphans the couple, Benet and Rachel, had taken in and parented.
    They lived and worked and played deep in the forest, far from other civilizations, and they were taught to secrete themselves in nearby caverns and underground tunnels. Unfortunately the caves were often under water, and they had to be careful never to be trapped inside when the tunnels flooded. But still, every few days their parents would conduct drills, running fast, not looking back, going through water to leave no tracks.
    Phin was the oldest of them, and she often followed him, peppering him with questions about the outside world and why, at times, they had to hide so quietly. He looked sad, and he’d drop his hand on the top of her head and tell her how special she was. And that they all had to watch over her.
    The jaguar sighed. The rain fell down and she lifted her face,