Perusina, Perusino, and Franz at Ahuashiyacu

Even on the way to the waterfall, Franz was unusually quiet.

That was suspicious.

Franz was usually never quiet. He talked while walking, while sniffing, while stumbling, and even when he claimed to be maintaining a mysterious silence. But now he padded between the wet stones, ears flat, nose high.

Perusino stopped. "Franz? Is everything alright?"

The little Sechuran fox didn't look at him. He looked ahead, to where the forest grew brighter and the roar of the waterfall grew louder.

"Someone is singing off-key," Franz whispered.

Perusina listened.

At first, there was only water. Lots of water. Ahuashiyacu plunged down behind the trees, a white curtain of noise, mist, and light. The name meant something like laughing or singing water. But today, it didn't sound like laughter.

It sounded as if someone was crying.

Perusino shrugged. "Maybe the water has a cold."

No one laughed.

They stepped out of the forest. Before them, the waterfall plunged over dark rocks into a clear basin. Droplets flew through the air. Ferns trembled. Butterflies flickered like small, colorful flashes over the water.

Then they heard it.

"Peru... si... na..."

Perusina froze.

"That was the wind," Perusino said immediately.

"The wind doesn't know my name," Perusina said.

Franz pushed himself behind her legs. "Maybe it knows you by accident."

A second whisper came from the water mist. This time it didn't sound like a word, but like a long, sad tone.

Something red was floating at the edge of the pond. Perusina knelt down. It wasn't a leaf. It was a thread, thin as hair, but twisted from water plants. A small clay bead hung from it. It was broken.

Franz sniffed the bead. "Smells old. And wet. And a little bit like fear."

Perusina looked at the waterfall. "There's a legend here, isn't there?"

Perusino nodded slowly. "A woman who was connected to the water. Some say her laughter is in the waterfall."

At that moment, the waterfall did not fall silent. But something within it did. The bright splashing that lay between the great water blows was gone.

Only a dull thudding remained.

Boom.

Boom.

Boom.

"That's coming from behind the water," Perusina said.

"Very nice," Perusino said. "Then we're not going there."

Franz stepped onto a slippery stone, slid, flailed with all his paws, and suddenly shot towards the edge of the basin.

"Franz!"

Perusina grabbed his scarf. Perusino snatched his backpack strap. For a moment, all three hung like a poorly planned chain over the water.

Franz dangled with his nose barely above the pond.

"I just wanted to check," he gasped, "if the stones are particularly slippery today."

"And?" Perusino asked.

"They are!"

With a jerk, they pulled him back. But in doing so, the clay bead detached from the plant thread and fell into the water.

Plop.

Immediately a swirl formed.

The bead did not simply sink. It was pulled to the rock face, directly under the waterfall.

"She wants to go back," Perusina said.

"Who? The bead?"

"Or the story behind it."

The water mist grew thicker. For a moment, Perusina saw a figure in the white curtain. Only outlines: long hair, a face made of droplets, a hand pointing to the rock.

Then she was gone.

Perusino swallowed. "I didn't see that."

"Yes, you did," Franz said. "You very loudly didn't see it."

Perusina moved closer to the rocks. Behind the waterfall, there was a narrow spot where the water didn't quite reach the wall. She ducked under ferns, felt for a hold, and pushed herself behind the mist.

"Perusina!" Perusino called.

"Stay here!"

Of course, he didn't stay there.

Two seconds later, he stomped after her, knee-deep in the cold water, while Franz jumped on a stone, trying to look brave, which only half succeeded due to his wet ears.

Behind the waterfall, the world was suddenly different. Louder. Colder. Narrower. Water poured down before them like a wall. Something was carved into the rock niche behind it: a spiral, three wavy lines, and a small face.

Below it, a gap yawned. Something was stuck in it. Branches. Plastic. Fabric. And among it all: a round clay pendant, broken in two.

"That's blocking the side flow," Perusina shouted over the noise. "That's why the waterfall sounds wrong!"

Perusino leaned forward. "I can reach it."

"Wait!"

Too late.

He reached into the gap. Just then, a gush of water shot through the crack. Perusino lost his footing, stumbled, and disappeared up to his chest in the cold water.

"I'm awake!" he spluttered. "Very awake!"

Franz jumped onto a rock. "Left! The thing is drifting left!"

The clay pendant had come loose and was carried away by the current. It danced across the water's surface, hit a stone, and disappeared into the white foam.

Perusina ripped off her scarf. Perusino threw in his backpack strap. Franz pulled out his red bandana and held it with his teeth.

"Chain!" Perusina called.

They tied everything together. Perusino held onto a rock, Perusina stood behind him, Franz pulled from behind with all the strength a little fox with a lot of opinions could muster.

Perusina threw the end of the fabric chain.

Once. Too short. Twice. Missed. The third time, the scarf wrapped around a branch that was circling in the water with the pendant.

"Now!"

Perusino pulled. Perusina pulled. Franz pulled so hard that he fell backward over his own tail. The branch came closer. The clay pendant struck the rock.

Crack.

A piece broke off.

The waterfall roared.

Perusina reached out and grabbed the pendant. It was cold as stone, but in her hand, it vibrated as if someone had trapped a sound inside it.

The mist before her brightened.

Again, the woman of water stood there. This time, she didn't look sad. Only waiting.

Perusina placed the two pieces of the pendant into the small rock hollow beneath the spiral. Then she added the broken bead.

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then a thin thread of water flowed over the spiral. It hit the bead. The bead spun. A bright sound rose, at first soft, then clearer.

Not speech.

Laughter.

The waterfall sounded different again. No longer dull. No longer sad. Between the thunder, there was a bright springing, as if a thousand droplets were dancing over stones.

Perusino exhaled. "I think the waterfall just said thank you."

Franz shook himself. "If so, he could have said it drier."

When they returned to the pond, butterflies fluttered over the basin. The red plant thread no longer drifted aimlessly in the water. It had wrapped itself around a stone, precisely where the sun fell through the mist.

Perusino sat down exhausted on a rock. "So. Note to self: If a waterfall whispers your name, you shouldn't say it has a cold."

Franz nodded seriously. "And if a stone looks slippery, it's probably insultingly slippery."

Perusina smiled. She listened to the water.

Ahuashiyacu was laughing again.

But this time, it sounded as if someone who had waited a very long time was laughing along.