My book is going through the publishing process. It’s being typeset and made to be as beautiful as possible.

But what really matters (after we all obsess over the gorgeous cover) is the story inside. I know taking a risk on a debut indie author can be unappealing sometimes. Let’s be honest – my writing may be difficult to read or choppy.

So, I want to share the first chapter with you! I hope it helps earn my spot on your bookshelf.

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Chapter One

Chaco Region of Paraguay – 2002 

The drums beat loudly through the jungle. They echoed over the land, carried down the rushing Mighty River. Each beat of the drum stirred the tribespeople, calling them to dance. They obeyed. Bodies rushed around the fire in the glow of the moon and their feet slid wildly in the fresh mud. They yelled their thanksgiving to the skies.  

Suái stood close to the dance, but didn’t participate. She tilted her head back and looked at the night sky. A few straggling clouds still hid the stars twinkling above. She smiled and thanked the gods for the clouds. She thanked them for the rain that had finally fallen upon the dry jungle.  

She lived in a region ruled by powerful, uncaring gods. The gods withheld the rains for long stretches of time although it made life difficult for their worshippers. The jungle, and anything the tribespeople planted for food, would wilt in the dry heat of the sun. As the people began to believe their gods had truly forsaken them, the rains would finally come. Mud would appear from the once cracked dirt and the scarce crops would finally peek their new leaves above the surface of the earth. The jungle would awaken as well. Leading up to the wet season, the jaguars would go quiet and the people would wonder if they had died or moved on in search of water. But then, as the rain would fall, the jaguars would roar out their gratefulness to the skies.  

Suái’s eyes wandered back to the dance. She sensed someone watching her. Their eyes met through the glow of the fire. His eyes squinted and a boyish grin filled his wide face. His body moved in time with the beat, and he wiggled his eyebrows at her. She rolled her eyes but couldn’t help smiling back.  

He had been born twenty-one wet seasons ago. His mother labored for hours, until finally he just slipped out. The woman who delivered the tribes’ babies said she had never seen a baby as big as him. He was covered in rolls of baby fat. His mother said he came out smiling, so she named him Gaacó – laughing falcon. 

The name suited him. He was always laughing, marked by his playfulness. The baby fat stayed long past the time it should have faded. His plump face and waist made him an easy target for the other boys in the tribe, so he avoided them. Instead, he ran through the jungle with Suái. His wild hair was always tangled behind him and his mouth pulled into a wide, playful grin. They would pretend they were jaguars or monkeys tearing through the trees. The two of them did everything together, helping each other with their chores and tasks around the small village. As they grew older, their relationship deepened. Since neither had siblings, they adopted each other, becoming a haven for the other.  

As childhood flowed into adolescence, all the other boys had grown taller, their arms and legs gangly. They had made fun of the still short and wide Gaacó, telling him he would never be a warrior like them. He accepted it because he enjoyed helping the people of the tribe, and being a warrior or hunter would keep him away from the village. However, the gods had other plans for Gaacó and during his sixteenth wet season, he grew.  

When he grew, he did not become lanky like his peers, his body had been saving up the extra weight for a reason. And as he began to tower over the other men, his arms and legs doubled in size. His wide chest pulled taut with muscle, and his back looked as if it could easily carry a jaguar. His boyish face quickly lost all traces of baby fat. His wide jaw squared off, leaving him breathtakingly handsome. The boy she had known disappeared, only his wild hair and wide grin remained on the outside. Yet the inside had not changed. He was still her jovial best friend. Her safe place.  

His black hair was tamed for once as he danced, tied back in a long braid. His eyes did not leave Suái’s as his shoulders moved more dramatically with the beat. She glared at him lightheartedly, shaking her head in protest before he extended the invitation. He laughed loudly, outstretching his hands for her to grasp. Their fingers had barely touched when he clasped hers tightly and pulled her into the dance. She let out an involuntary squeal of delight, and he only laughed more in reply. They moved quickly, the firelight casting their shadows on the trees.  

After a while, her face reddened from the exertion and her heart raced within her. “Why are you still dancing with me?” she cried over the drums. “There are other women here, you know.” 

“And give up dancing with the most beautiful one?” he countered.  

She wrinkled her wide, angular nose and snorted. “We both know that’s not true,” she replied, amusement flashing in her warm brown eyes.  

“Okay, second most beautiful,” he admitted. “But you get bonus points for personality!” He winked at her, and she threw her head back giggling. His thunderous laugh roared over the drums as he pulled her along with him.  

They danced together until the moon was high. Others may have wanted to dance with her, but she would never know. No one dared coming near her when Gaacó was around. Sometimes the thought of that made her warm, but she wasn’t sure if that was from embarrassment or pleasure. She never let herself examine the feelings too closely though. He was her best friend and brother, nothing more. She feared anything more would threaten their cherished bonds.  

Gaacó escorted her back to her grandfather’s dwelling after they had tired of dancing. He pulled her into a hug before wandering off to his own family’s dwelling. She expected her grandfather to be sleeping, but she could see him looking out at the night sky on the opposite side of the small room.  

“Still awake?” she asked in a quiet greeting.  

“Waiting,” he replied. His voice was calm, but she sensed an edge of uneasiness. “It is very late. You really should be more careful at night surrounded by so many men.” 

She let out an amused sigh. “I was safe. I wasn’t alone.” 

“Oh? You had another woman with you?”  

“You know I had Gaacó,” she replied. He still had his back turned to her, and she was confused by his attitude over the situation. “Nothing can happen to me when he’s around.” 

He turned to face her. His eyes met hers and held her gaze. “Gaacó is a man.” 

“I know that!” she snapped defensively. “But he…” 

The old man threw his hand up swiftly, motioning her to stop speaking. She snapped her mouth shut. “Being alone with men can take you down paths that lead to children outside of a mating relationship. And you know what happens to unclaimed children.” 

Suái nodded soberly. Unclaimed children were given back to the gods through the ground. In their village, men and women mated for life like the scarlet macaws of the jungle. Women and their children had to be claimed by a man in order to belong to the tight-knit community. Once a woman and her child were claimed by a man, he was unable to ever claim another woman’s children. If an unmated woman had a baby and no unattached man claimed it – it was sacrificed to the gods.  

The ceremony was ancient and considered one of the community’s most sacred rituals. It was said that if an unclaimed child was not sacrificed to the gods, the gods would hold back the rain. They all knew they would die without the water that fell to their parched earth and replenished life. So, they continued to adhere to the ancient ceremony. Their chief, who was also their mediator to the gods, made sure no unclaimed children stayed with its mother and angered the gods.  

Sacrificing unclaimed children was emotional to all, but especially to Suái and her grandfather. Her mother, Giede, had delivered her twenty dry seasons ago. The labor had been normal, and though Suái was small, she was healthy. Her mother gave her the name Suái, after her favorite bird – the blue fronted parrot. Her grandfather had said she was the joy in her mother’s eyes and brought pride to her father. But seven days after delivery, Giede’s head began to pound. Her side stitched with pain, and she became swollen. The tribe’s delivery woman had seen it before; she knew there was nothing to be done to prevent it. Suái’s mother died three days later. Her father, caught up in his grief, wandered into the jungle alone and never returned. 

Since Suái was an infant, the chief, Xilo, had come to take her to the gods. Her grandfather resisted him, claiming her as his own. Because her grandmother had passed, leaving her grandfather unmated, the chief was forced to accept Piok’s claim, though it angered Xilo. No one in the village believed the Piok would be able to raise her on his own, but he did. He worked longer and harder than any other man in the village just to make sure there was food in his granddaughter’s belly. 

She grew up under his watchful eye. He was strict and expected more out of her than most. The weight of his expectations could have crushed her, but instead she flourished. She worked hard and treated people well. She knew her own worth and was proud to be his granddaughter. Every night when she laid down in their shared dwelling, she would hear him whisper, “I love you, Suái. I’m proud of the woman you are, and your mother would be, too.” 

Piok had told her that she looked like her mother. She had her mother’s eyes which were a deep brown, speckled with the gold of the “Great Light” which Giede was named after. She didn’t remember her parents, but she imagined her mother’s legs being strong and rounded like hers. She wondered if her wide hips and slim waist came from Giede as well, or if she had inherited them from a grandmother she never knew. Sometimes when she saw her reflection in a pool of water, she would take in her square face with sharp cheekbones slicing through and imagine her features came from her father. These imagined connections to a family she would never meet made her feel less alone in the dwelling she shared with her grandfather. They were surrounded by families, many generations all under one roof, and the familial bonds around them only emphasized their own losses. 

She woke the following morning to the sound of rain hitting the roof made of animal skins. It dripped into the small room in places, but she remained mostly dry. Her grandfather was already awake, sitting on the ground eating some vegetables he had prepared. She sat beside him and took the food he offered. She smiled a thank you and he smiled back.  

Once they had finished, he asked, “What are your plans today? Are the gardens planted?” 

She nodded, “Yes, we got the seeds in before the rain came.” 

“Is there any meat to help preserve?” 

“No one has caught anything in days. I heard a hunting party is going out today. A large boar was spotted near the northern edge of the village, and they are determined to get it. I didn’t see it, but I heard it was big enough to feed the entire village for at least a week.” 

He bowed his head, and she copied him as he began praying. “Gods, provide food to your people. Let them kill the mighty boar so that your people may continue to tend your earth. Thank you for your rich provision. Thank you for the water.” He tilted his head back up and looked at her again. “So, what are you going to do?” 

She wrinkled her nose in thought. “I may see if I can go on the hunt,” she answered cautiously. 

His squinty eyes widened, “You? A woman?” 

Leveling her jaw, she asked, “Is it against the gods?” 

“Well, no…” 

“Then why not?” 

He apparently found no acceptable answer. He slowly nodded his approval. “You must ask Xilo first. And stay close to Gaacó.” 

“Gaacó is safe today?” she asked. She meant it to be lighthearted, but the edge in her voice was noticeable. 

Piok shook his head. “You know going out in the day with a group is different from being alone with a single man at night. I have taught you to be wise, why must you insist on foolishness?” 

“Foolishness?” she repeated hotly. Her cheeks burned as she stood. “I am not foolish. You are being unreasonable!” 

“Do not yell at me. I do not have the time nor energy to give you the lashing you deserve today.” 

She glared at him but held her tongue. “I’m going to talk to Xilo about joining the hunt. I’ll be back tonight.” 

Suái stormed through the village to Xilo’s dwelling, ignoring the rain that ran down her brow and hair. He was the chief and mediator for the gods, and she was convinced he was capable of more evil than everyone else in the village combined. His skin was lighter than most because he spent the majority of his time in his dwelling, hidden from the sun. Yet his eyes were darker, almost black. Gaacó said they were dark due to the same reason that his skin was light; he said the sun lightened their eyes and darkened their skin. But she did not believe him – Xilo’s eyes were black because of the evil harbored behind them. His presence alone was enough to send a cold chill through her whole body. 

Still, she called into his dwelling, “Xilo! May I speak to you concerning the boar hunt?” 

She heard him moving towards the entry of his dwelling, and her stomach churned. Incense rolled in thick green clouds as he pulled back the animal skin covering the entrance, and she choked back a cough. He wore a look of bored pleasantness, but even that seemed dangerous.  

“What about the boar hunt?”  

“I would like to join it,” she whispered, fear overcoming her as she stood alone in front of him.  

“What did you say?” he asked, not impolitely but already beginning to show his impatience. 

She cleared her throat and tried again, “I would like to join it.” The words were shaky, but they were audible. 

Xilo cocked his head at her, looking over her small frame. “Have you ever killed anything before?” 

Suái thought about the time she hunted with Gaacó when they were children. They tracked a small monkey all morning and he had let her throw the spear that ended its life. Throw was a bit of an exaggeration – she had held the spear while Gaacó aimed and then launched it from her loose fingers.  

“Yes,” she replied regardless. 

“Very well,” the chief answered. “But you will need a seasoned hunter to claim responsibility for you. I will not be sending a search party out for a bored and reckless woman.” 

“I claim responsibility,” a voice boomed from behind them. Suái spun quickly to see Gaacó strutting towards her. She smiled broadly at him, and he chuckled in response. She bowed quickly to Xilo and turned to follow Gaacó. “Come along, mighty huntress!” he called in jest. Then his deep laugh filled the village. 

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Thank you so much for reading! I hope you’re curious about the rest of Suái’s story! I’d love to hear your comments & make sure you subscribe so that you don’t miss a single update.

The Call of Living Water will be available in print and as an eBook on Amazon and other platforms soon!