192
JUAN FRANCISCO BLANCO
“Did I ever tell you the story about the strange thing that
happened on the day I met your parents?” Tital asked.
“No.”
“I have been meaning to tell you this story. As you know, I
was riding Centella along the coast heading south. I was about to
turn west and head inland. I knew Centella was getting thirsty,
and I was going to look for a cenote. I had just turned Centella
westward, when out of nowhere this little hummingbird flew up
to me, going around my head like it wanted my attention. I tried
to wave it off, but it flew at Centella until she turned back south.
Once we were headed south again, it landed on top of Centella’s
head. It looked at me, and cocked its head in one direction, and
then another. I turned Centella west again, and the little blue
hummingbird took off and flew at Centella again, forcing her, to
turn back to the south again. The bird did this three times, each
time landing back on Centella’s head when she was going south
again. Finally, I just decided to continue to the south. The last
time the hummingbird left, I saw it had lost two small blue
feathers. They were tangled in Centella’s mane. Here, I still have
them,” he said, pulling a thin leather string from around his neck,
showing the two small blue feathers. “I had just tucked them
into my pocket when that little hummingbird flew out ahead, and
I saw your parents’ camp. It flew off, and I never saw it again. If
it hadn’t been for that little blue hummingbird, I would never
have seen your parents. I would have traveled a completely
different path.”
“Strange things do happen,” Bardala said, as she took the two
little blue feathers and held them up in the moonlight. She
twirled them around in her fingers, and said, “I don’t believe in
coincidences. Sometimes fate has to push us in the right