112
JUAN FRANCISCO BLANCO
“You say you are members of a tribe called the Tzultach?”
Bardala asked, as Zocam cut a small piece of meat off the roasted
hindquarters of a large beast and handed it to her.
“Yes. We are a large group of Giants who take care of vast
areas of territory. We help supply the water to the land that the
Spirit, Ah Patnar Uinicob, provides to us,” Tabracan said, as he
patted the head of his pet rattlesnake.
“Does that mean you help people to raise corn to eat?” Tital
asked, while watching as Tabracan’s rattlesnake crawled up the
tan arm of the Giant.
“We do try to help people who ask, but most people are very
frightened when they see us,” Zocam said, handing a juicy piece
of meat to Tital.
“It must be due to your size,” Bardala said between bites,
“you are huge.”
“Yes, you little humans are very weak. You are always
needing our help,” Zocam laughed, “Huracán should have made
you bigger and stronger, like us.”
“You know, you are right. I do wish I was built bigger, and
stronger,” Tital said thoughtfully, while chewing his food, “however, now I am a happy person.”
“I’m happy too, most of the time,” Bardala said.
Just then, from the western jungle came two normal-sized
men, running fast up to the Giants’ home.
The first man stopped, caught his breath, and yelled out,
“Zocam, my tribe, the Tonga, need