The sea wind from the north reached the valleys of the central mountains, only to be blocked and stopped by the forests and hills. And without the sea wind, the blood-heat in the little mountain villages could not be blown away, nor could that dense reek of death.
"Main God! That bloody, stinking smell—these Taino villagers?! Damn it, they've all fallen!"
When Red-hair Mikui and Tai Juying, with a dozen trusted men and several dozen Taino Pockmarked, stepped into the little Taino village that had once served as a supply point, what they saw was a scene of misery and horror!
The little Taino village of over a hundred people was now empty and desolate. There were no running Taino children to be seen, only faint wails drifting over. From the Taino thatched huts came broken murmurs and coughs, like birds struggling in the night, not yet dead. And Red-hair Mikui glanced through the open doorways into the huts, and his expression darkened.
The children who had once sung beneath the palm trees were now curled one by one on broad long leaves, their faces crawling with red blotches, their eyes shut tight like unripe fruit. Their bodies were the weakest, so they were the first to catch the plague and collapse, and the ones who would find it hardest to survive this smallpox.
The water jars in the village had long since gone dry. The Taino young men, women, and strong adults who had been caring for the sick had fallen one after another, becoming patients in need of care themselves. Red-hair Mikui looked around and saw only a scant few young women, backs bent as they staggered between the huts, smearing ash on the children's foreheads. Their hands were trembling too, and when they heard movement outside and