"Was that a puma?" asked Francisco, holding Catalina tightly.
The servants, alarmed by the roar, drew their weapons and closed in around the pair."Young master, we should return to the estate. That roar sounded far too close," one of them said with a cautious look.
"But there was a scream—and a gunshot—coming from over there. Shouldn't we check what happened?" Francisco asked.
"It isn't safe. You're with the young Miss, and this could be very dangerous. It's better to retreat to the estate and inform your father before taking further action," the servant replied firmly.
Francisco hesitated, then nodded. "Fine. Two of you take Catalina back to the estate and tell Father what happened. The rest of us will wait here for him and the others. Once they arrive, we'll look for whoever screamed—and for the puma."
The servant looked as though he wanted to protest, but seeing Francisco's determined face, he only nodded."Then go," Francisco ordered.
"I don't want to leave you!" Catalina said, her face pale with worry.
"It's better if you do. We don't know whether the puma is still lurking, waiting for its next prey."
"I… fine. But promise me you won't move until your father comes," she said, reluctantly mounting her horse. The servants followed her back toward the estate.
Meanwhile, Francisco and the remaining men readied their weapons. A few stood tense, watching every shadow in the forest. After twenty anxious minutes, the sound of hooves echoed from the hillside. Moments later, his father, Carlos, arrived with ten extra servants.
"Son, what happened? The servant told me you heard the roar of a puma?" Carlos asked, scanning the woods.
"Yes, Father. But it wasn't just the puma. I also heard a man scream—and a gunshot. I fear the beast may have made this part of the forest its territory, which could be dangerous for our slaves and servants."
Francisco spoke with a serious face, though inwardly his fear wasn't for the servants. The truth was, he was excited—curious to see a puma up close. After all, he was still a child, and fragments of the future made him even more eager.
Carlos sighed. "Very well. Let's go. Perhaps someone survived and needs our help. Everyone, form groups of three. Watch different directions so we're not ambushed. Francisco, you stay with me and the butler."
"Yes, Father," Francisco answered solemnly.
They split into groups, each carrying a lantern. Francisco led the way down a narrow path."The sound came from this direction, I think," he whispered. Then, foolishly, he called out, "Is there someone here?"
Before he could finish, Carlos struck him across the face."Are you an idiot? We may be in a puma's territory and you want to announce our position? Do you want it to come straight for us?" he hissed.
"Sorry, Father. I didn't know," Francisco muttered, ashamed.
Carlos rubbed his temple. "I'll need to teach you proper military discipline, or one day you'll get yourself killed."
Before they could take another step, Carlos suddenly raised his hand. "Wait. Did you hear that?"
The butler tensed instantly, scanning the trees. The forest was silent—too silent. Not a bird, not even the buzz of insects.
"I don't hear anything," Francisco whispered nervously.
"Exactly. That's the problem," Carlos murmured. "A forest without sound means danger."
Francisco's body stiffened.
A shadow leapt from a tree, aiming straight at him. Predators always struck at the weakest prey—and in this case, that was Francisco.
Carlos reacted in an instant. He shoved his son aside, pushing him to the ground just as the puma landed where Francisco had stood. Francisco tumbled, dropping his weapon.
The beast, furious at missing its prey, turned its yellow eyes on Carlos. Its side bore a clear wound: a bullet hole. Whoever it had attacked earlier had managed to injure it.
The butler and Carlos fired their muskets, wounding it further, but not fatally. With a roar, the puma knocked the butler against a tree, then lunged at Carlos, claws slashing. Carlos, strong and battle-hardened, wrestled against it, holding it back by sheer force, but the stalemate could not last.
Francisco froze, paralyzed by fear, until his father's desperate shout reached him:"Francisco! Grab your weapon and shoot the puma!"
Snapping out of it, Francisco scrambled for his musket. But his hands trembled—what if he missed and hit his father? Still, he knew hesitation meant death. His grandfather's words echoed in his mind: "In danger, breathe deeply. Calm yourself. Decide rationally, not emotionally."
He inhaled, steadied his hands, stepped closer, and aimed at the beast's head. The puma turned its gaze toward him, but before it could pounce, Francisco fired.
The shot hit true. The animal collapsed instantly, its body falling heavy over Carlos.
Shaking, Francisco dropped the musket, his body trembling with fear and shock. The butler, bloodied but alive, staggered to Carlos's side, helping to push the carcass away.
Carlos bore a deep gash on his arm but managed a faint smile. He patted his son's shoulder. "We are here! The puma is dead!" he shouted to the search parties.
Soon, voices echoed back. "Master! Master, are you all right?"
"I'm fine. Take the puma to the estate. I'll go as well—Grandmother Maria can treat this wound. Francisco, you will lead a group to find its lair. Pumas usually live alone, but something feels wrong. For one to attack multiple humans like this… it must have been protecting cubs. And find the body of the other hunter. That will be your punishment."
Francisco lowered his head. His father had seen through him—his reckless desire to encounter a puma had nearly cost Carlos his life. Shame burned in his chest."Yes, Father. I'm sorry."
Carlos left with the wounded men, while Francisco and the servants scoured the forest. The search was grueling; pumas can claim territories of nearly a thousand square kilometers. Still, fortune guided them. They found four mangled bodies—the unlucky hunters who had wounded the puma. Francisco gagged and vomited up the arepa he had eaten earlier at the sight.
Hours later, pale and exhausted, Francisco's group found a small cave. Inside were two mewling cubs. His father had been right—the mother had attacked to protect her young.
They carried the cubs back to the estate. Carlos stood at the entrance, his arm wrapped in bandages. Seeing Francisco's sickly face, he said only, "Go to sleep. We'll talk tomorrow."
Francisco nodded, silently retreating to his room.
Francisco tried to sleep but the sight of his father almost being eat