The Andes Dream

Krugger let out a dry chuckle. "I've never heard of lions growing weaker just because they lack a mane."

The guide shrugged. "Tonight we must be careful, sir. The jaguar does not give up its prey without a fight. It is still daylight, so it is likely watching us from nearby. We should move in groups and leave no one behind—not even for a moment. One careless mistake, and a man can simply vanish."

Krugger nodded gravely. He called the soldiers together and repeated the warning, ordering them to stay close to one another at all times—even when answering the call of nature. Once the instructions were given, the column resumed its descent.

The terrain only worsened. The ground was slick with mud, and the vegetation clawed at their legs. The mules struggled the most; their hooves sank easily into the mire, forcing the soldiers to constantly stop, dig them free, and drag the animals forward by sheer effort.

By nightfall, the men collapsed into a rough camp, exhaustion weighing heavier than their packs. As they settled in, one soldier muttered to his companion, "I need to answer nature's call. Come with me."

The others, already stretched out on the damp ground, groaned in protest."Why don't you just go behind that tree?" one of them complained. "We can keep an eye on you from here."

The soldier rolled his eyes. "And have the smell drift through the whole camp? In this heat, you'll regret it in five minutes."

Grimacing, they gave in. A torch was lit, its flame flickering weakly against the darkness, and the two men walked a short distance away from the camp. One leaned against a tree and lit a cigar while the other stepped behind a thick trunk.

After a moment, the man with the cigar spoke quietly. "Do you really think there's a jaguar out there?"

From behind the tree came a low reply. "I don't know if it's a jaguar—but something is here. You didn't feel it because you were farther back. Up on the ridge, the jungle went completely silent. No insects. No birds. Nothing."

The soldier exhaled a slow puff of smoke. "Maybe it moved on. Even a beast wouldn't want to sleep in this godforsaken place."

His companion snorted softly. "I agree. I don't understand how the Spanish managed to settle here at all—or why anyone would choose this over Europe."

The cigar's ember flared as the soldier took one last drag before flicking it into the darkness of the forest."For the same reason we're here," he said quietly. "Money. Gold and silver. They say this land is full of it. Even after centuries of Spanish exploitation, the earth keeps giving. The Spanish were lucky. If we hadn't spent the last centuries killing each other back home, maybe we'd be the ones ruling this place now."

The other soldier finished cleaning himself and stepped closer, adjusting his belt as he spoke. "Maybe. But even then, the nobles would probably slaughter each other over the mines. We'd only be exporting our wars to the New World."

The soldier with the torch laughed softly, a hint of nostalgia in his eyes. "Do you think Germany will ever unify?"

The other shrugged. "Perhaps… if a king powerful enough is ever born." Then his expression shifted. He frowned and rubbed his leg. "Wait—something bit me."

He lifted the torch closer and froze.

A snake was coiled around his calf, its dark body almost blending with the mud-smeared skin.

The torchbearer swallowed. "Is… is that snake black?"

The man's breathing quickened instantly. "Is it poisonous? Am I going to die? Get it off me—now!"

The torchbearer reached out in a reflexive motion, but before he could touch it, the snake loosened its grip and slid away, disappearing into the undergrowth without a sound.

"We—we need to go back," he muttered. "We have to ask the guide if it was dangerous."

The bitten man nodded frantically. Every second spent there felt like an invitation for something else to crawl out of the darkness and finish the job. He wiped the sweat from his brow, his pulse pounding in his ears.

Then he froze.

"Wait," he whispered. "Do you hear that?"

The torchbearer turned slowly, lifting the flame and taking a few cautious steps forward. "Hear what?" He paused. His face tightened. "I… I don't hear anything."

The realization hit him like cold water. There were no insects. No birds. No distant calls in the trees. Nothing at all. A chill crept up his spine, and the jungle seemed to hold its breath.

The color drained from the other man's face. "That's exactly what—"

He never finished the sentence.

A shadow burst from the undergrowth with terrifying speed, slamming into him and dragging him back into the tall herbs. The torchbearer spun around, heart pounding.

"Hey—Voss! Where did you go?!"

There was no answer.

He turned in circles, panic rising. The darkness swallowed everything beyond a few steps, the jungle suddenly vast and hostile. He screamed toward the camp, his voice breaking through the night.

"We are under attack!"

He tried to run, but another shadow leapt from the darkness. The torch flew from his hand, hitting the ground and rolling, its flame flickering weakly before slowly dying out. Darkness reclaimed the clearing completely.

Back at the camp, the screams were impossible to ignore. Soldiers sprang to their feet, muskets raised, aiming toward the direction of the cries. But the night seemed to devour all light and sound coming from there.

Krugger pushed through the ranks, tension etched into his face."What happened?"

His thoughts raced—fanatics, spies from Chocó, a night assault. Any of them were possible.

His aide stepped forward, swallowing nervously. "Sir, I'm not entirely sure. It appears two soldiers went to relieve themselves farther from the camp. Then we heard screams. One man claimed he saw the torchlight go out. We can assume they were attacked."

Krugger's expression darkened. "Wait. How many men went?" he demanded. "With four together, even a jaguar would hesitate."

The aide shifted uncomfortably. "Only two, sir. It seems that despite the warnings, they didn't fully follow orders. You know how it is—in Germany, even when told to move in groups of six, men often go with fewer."

Krugger exploded. "Germany?" he snapped. "Do you think we are still in Germany?"

His voice dropped, cold and furious. "I didn't order groups of four because I enjoy making their lives harder. I gave that order because in this land, nature is deadlier than any enemy soldier. I warned them a jaguar was tracking us."

He clenched his fists, staring into the darkness beyond the camp.

"Now they've paid for it," he said grimly. "And whatever took them… is enjoying a fine feast."

"You," Krugger snapped, pointing at a nearby soldier. "Order every man to tie themselves in groups of four. Legs bound together. If tomorrow I see even one soldier without a rope around his damn legs, I'll have him carry supplies like a mule. Do you hear me?"

The soldier stiffened, clearly nervous. "Sir… I don't think we have enough men for that."

"I don't care," Krugger barked. "If you lack people, then tie a fucking rock to them. I've already lost five men to sickness, and now two more to the claws of a beast. I'm not willing to lose another."

"Yes, sir," the soldier replied, saluting sharply before hurrying off to relay the order.

The aide lingered, hesitation written across his face. "Sir… aren't you being a little too harsh? In this jungle, four men bound together might suffer more accidents than fewer."

Krugger didn't turn at first. His eyes were fixed on the dark green wall of vegetation, dense and silent, as if listening.

"I know," he said at last, his voice low and rough. "But with four men, if one falls, the others can pull him back. We bind our fates together in this mud—or the jungle will take us one by one."

He turned slowly toward his aide, who was still trying to brush mud from his once-pristine uniform.

"Make them understand, Lieutenant," Krugger growled, gesturing toward the mist-covered peaks looming above them. "This is not Saxony. In Germany, the land serves us. We have roads, fields, order. Here?" He swept his hand toward the jungle. "This is a primordial mire. A vertical labyrinth where the heat rots your spirit before the jaguar even finds your scent. Back home, we march. Here, we fight just to exist."

He paused, his voice hardening."If Saxony is a garden, then the New World is hell itself—and we are walking straight through its throat."

The aide fell silent for a moment before answering carefully. "I understand, sir. But the men are still adapting. Even those who imagined this land would be harsh never thought it would be… this. Mistakes are bound to happen."

Krugger exhaled slowly. "Tomorrow, we search for the bodies," he said. "If we find them, we show them to the men. Then we bury them properly and give them a farewell. If not…" He clenched his jaw. "Then we pray for their souls."

As he spoke, his gaze drifted deeper into the forest. For an instant, he thought he saw a pair of eyes staring back at him—yellow, gleaming, intelligent.

Krugger blinked.

The eyes were gone.

Yet the feeling remained, as if the jungle itself were watching him… and mocking his defiance.