Mount Guatu

A column of smoke would rise up from the mountain into the darkening evening sky. Spiraling out from the base of Mt. Guatu were the fires of the villages that drew life from the mountain. Roads connected each one, their dirt flattened tight by the soles of the feet that traveled them everyday. They cut through the dense jungle that stretched from the coast to the east and out beyond the horizon to the west. The cool morning drizzle would turn into a humid midday that made your skin sticky and would force even the bravest to run to the nearest river.   Within each of the villages lived the Guali, the Children of Guatu.