Gocta

Franz noticed it first.

Not because he was particularly brave.

But because his ear remained dry.

He stood right on the path to Gocta, head tilted, nose full of cloud forest scent, and said, "Hold on a minute."

Perusino stopped behind him. "If it's about food, I'm ready."

"It's about water."

Perusino looked aside. Damp leaves hung everywhere. The ground was muddy. Small drops ran from the ferns. "Franz, we're in a forest that looks like someone just bathed it."

"Yes," Franz said. "But it should be thundering up ahead."

Perusina also stopped. Now she heard it too. Or rather: she didn't hear it.

Gocta wasn't just a waterfall. Gocta was a giant. 771 meters of water plunging in two stages from the cloud forest. Normally, you'd hear it long before you saw it. A deep rumble, a constant roar, as if the mountain itself was breathing.

Today, there was almost nothing. Just a thin splash.

Perusino looked up. "Maybe the waterfall is taking a break."

Franz stared at him. "Waterfalls don't take breaks."

"I would."

Perusina walked faster. The path became narrower, wetter, steeper. Lianas dripped beside them. A hummingbird shot past like a green spark. Then the forest opened up.

And they saw Gocta.

Or what Gocta was supposed to be.

The huge rock face stood there. The mist hung on it. But instead of a mighty white band, only a thin thread of water fell.

Perusino's mouth dropped open. "Someone made Gocta thin."

Franz swallowed. "That's rude."

People stood at the viewpoint, whispering. An old man held his hat in both hands. A woman pointed up to the first tier.

"It's been getting less since morning," she said. "At first it was just weaker. Then almost gone."

Perusina looked at the ground.

Fresh tracks.

Not from hiking boots. Wider. Deeper. As if someone had carried heavy sacks.

Next to it lay a piece of black hose.

Perusina picked it up. "This isn't a natural problem."

Perusino leaned closer. "Someone dragged a hose here?"

Franz sniffed. "Several. And metal. And anxious sweat. A very unpleasant mixture."

Then a sound came from above.

Clang.

Not water.

Metal.

The three looked at each other.

Then they ran.

The narrow path to the upper tier was slippery. Perusino grabbed for a liana, missed it, grabbed Franz's tail, and was immediately growled at.

"That's not a handhold!"

"In emergencies it is!"

Perusina pulled both of them onward. "Argue later!"

They found the first hose behind a rock. It lay in the moss and disappeared among roots. Water gurgled in it.

"Gocta flows into that," Perusina said.

"Someone's stealing water?" Perusino asked.

Franz sniffed. "Or diverting it."

They followed the hose uphill. It led to a narrow spot where a small feeder stream normally rushed towards the waterfall. Now the stream was blocked with stones, planks, and a rusty metal gate. The water was forced into several hoses that disappeared between the trees.

A boy stood in front of it.

He was perhaps twelve. Mud up to his knees. His hands trembled. Tools lay beside him.

When he saw the three, his eyes widened. "You shouldn't be here!"

Perusina raised both hands. "We want to help."

"No! If I open the gate, everything will slide away."

Perusino looked at the stream. The water was already pressing against the stones. Branches trembled. A plank bent.

Franz grew very quiet. "If that breaks, everything will come at once."

The boy swallowed. "My uncle said we only needed to divert water for a short time. For a construction site below. But then the gate jammed. And now I can't open it again."

Perusino stared at him. "You accidentally turned off Gocta?"

"Not me! Well... a little bit."

Then the first plank crashed.

Water splashed over the dam.

Perusina decided immediately. "We won't open everything at once. We'll relieve it piece by piece."

"I love sentences that include water and 'piece by piece'," Franz mumbled. "They rarely end dry."

Perusina pointed to the stones. "Perusino, the small stones to the left. Franz, you pull out the thin branches. I'll loosen the gate. You," she said to the boy, "tell me which hoses were disconnected first."

The boy nodded hastily.

Then everything happened quickly.

Perusino pushed a stone away, slipped, caught himself, and shoved with his shoulder. Franz bit into a branch and pulled until he tumbled backward into a fern. Perusina knelt in the water, her hands on the rusty gate.

"It's stuck!"

"Then convince it!" Perusino shouted.

Franz spat out leaves. "With a hammer?"

The boy handed Perusina an iron bar. Together they pried.

The gate moved a finger's breadth.

Then another.

Water gushed out.

Not much.

But enough.

Below, in the depths, the thin splashing grew louder.

Gocta answered.

A first roar rolled through the forest.

"Again!" Perusina cried.

Perusino pushed against the last stone. Franz threw his entire body against a branch. The boy pulled off a hose.

The gate sprang open.

Water broke loose.

"Get aside!"

Everyone threw themselves to the ground. The stream shot past them, carrying mud, leaves, and hoses. For a moment, it was all just water, noise, and spray.

Then came the thunder.

Not above them.

Before them.

Gocta was back.

The roar grew, becoming deeper, stronger, mightier. The cliff face trembled with water. A white ribbon plunged from the mist, fell, broke, leaped, gathered, and fell onward.

Perusino sat up. Soaking wet. "I take it all back. Waterfalls don't take breaks."

Franz dripped from his ears to the tip of his tail. "And I'm never on branch-pulling duty again."

The boy stared at the waterfall. "My uncle is going to be in trouble."

Perusina looked at him calmly. "He needs to explain why he diverted water without asking. And you explain why you got help."

"But I didn't get help."

Franz shook himself. "Yes, you did. Gocta got us."

Then something glittered in the spray.

A bright figure. Only for a breath. Like water that had briefly decided to have a face. Long hair of mist. Eyes like light on drops.

Perusino whispered, "The siren?"

The figure raised a finger to its lips.

Then it was gone.

Only the waterfall remained.

Loud.

Strong.

Alive.

Franz looked up. "She definitely said: Hands off the tap."

Perusina smiled. "Exactly that."

And Gocta thundered on, as if the mountain agreed.