Daughters of the Summer Storm Frances Statham (bill gates book recommendations .TXT) 📖

little green bird hopped about with a lusty chirp, answering the calls of the other birds that were free to fly in and out of the clearing.

Relieved that the bird had not been harmed, Maranta looked around for some sign of Innocencia, but she was nowhere in sight. Another foolish prank, Maranta thought in disgust. The girl had taken the bird just to be annoying.

Still wary, Maranta glanced to the right and left of the cage, but there did not appear to be any danger. But just as she made a step to take the cage in her hand, the ground gave way beneath her.

A startled Maranta clutched at the vines, while her feet struggled to gain a toehold. The animal pit had been camouflaged by a mat of greenery, and there was no telling what was beneath her in the pit.

The bird was forgotten, while Maranta tried to get free of the tangled vines and still avoid the deep chasm that waited for her. Digging her fingers into the earth, she inched upward, only to fall back as the soft earth crumbled in her hands.

Breathing hard, Maranta gripped the edge, drawing herself upward, until half of her body had emerged. Exhausted, she laid her head against the soft, green earth and rested. And then she began once more to try to free herself.

But the vines were wrapped around her right foot, entrapping it. Fighting against them only made it worse, for the rope of vines tightened around her ankle and pulled her downward.

It was no use. She had crawled as far as she could on her own. If she were to get free, someone else would have to help. The baby stirred within her, protesting the position in which her body was placed. It was impossible, though, to find a more comfortable position. So Maranta, trapped by the vines, lay quietly, listening to Fado's cheerful chirp in the forest.

She could not hope to be rescued for several hours yet, for Ruis would remain in the fields with his workers the rest of the afternoon. And there was no one else to rescue her, unless a slave should happen to pass by. But most of the slaves were in the fields. There was no one, then. Maranta closed her eyes and asked for strength to hold on until Ruis came.

Rapidly, the jararaca slid over the slippery green earth. The snake, suddenly sensing a human presence, slowly wound itself into a coil and waited for the human to move.

Maranta, with heart beating erratically, watched the snake. The reptile, with its malignant eyes, seemed to be assessing the figure before him—contemplating how dangerous this adversary might prove.

Lying as still as possible, Maranta made no sound. But she was concious of the pull on her foot, the tiredness of her body, and the fear that made her cold.

The soft earth underneath her began to give way, and with a gasp, Maranta struggled to take a new hold on firmer earth. From the corner of her eye, she saw the snake come to life.

"Help me," she shouted. "Someone please help me."

At the edge of the clearing, the Indian, Patû, lifted his head at Maranta's cry. Curious to see what had happened to her, he walked stealthily in the direction of the shout. Through the trees he peered, his eyes taking in Maranta's plight, the venomous snake heading toward her, and her efforts to free herself from the animal pit.

With a satisfied gleam in his eye, he turned his back and disappeared in the direction he had come.

The tears blurred Maranta's vision. She had no one to blame but herself. Ruis's words the day she had run away came back to her. "You must never run away again, pequena. I might not be so lucky to find you next time."

She had not run away this time. She'd been trying to rescue Fado from Innocencia. Unfortunately, the reason did not matter. She had come and was now trapped.

It didn't take long to die of the venom, so Sassia had said. A small consolation, Maranta decided, as she trembled and waited for the snake to strike.

Nothing happened. Fearfully, Maranta opened her eyes again and lifted her head. The subtle movement of greenery on the earth's floor drew her attention. The jararaca, so near, had changed direction, as if to escape.

Maranta looked up to see the muςurana emerging from the path and chasing toward the venomous snake. The jararaca was not fast enough. The muςurana sprang, clamping his heavy black body around the other snake. The trapped jararaca, with his wicked fangs, struck time and again at the body that held him. And when Maranta saw the yellow venom streaming down the black snake's back, she cried. For a moment, she had thought the muçurana could save her. But the jararaca had proved too much for the other snake.

Maranta waited to see how long it would take the muçurana to die. But as she waited, the black snake merely tightened his hold, until the jararaca's head was imprisoned.

The fight was at an impasse. For what seemed like hours, neither snake moved. Then the black snake awakened. Along the body of the jararaca, the muçurana's froglike mouth gingerly traveled and then stopped. It began again, sliding upward until it reached the head of its enemy, and with a powerful snap, the muçurana subdued the venomous snake.

Watching with unbelieving eyes, Maranta saw the black snake devour its prey—first the head, and then the body—until the last thing visible was the white tail of the jararaca de robo branco.

With a sliding motion, the ground gave way, and Maranta, losing her hold on the soft earth, slipped to the bottom of the animal pit, cushioned by matted vines and leaves.

The rain began to fall, beating down on the leaves of the trees and soaking the soft earth in torrents. And Fado, in his cage overhead, protested.

Maranta, conscious of dryness and warmth, gazed up at white silken draperies. She was in her