Meanwhile, Rodrigo was in the fields, tilling the soil with a hoe. Summer was coming, and the land had to be ready by then. The young man was working in an area where pumpkins were being grown.
“You look very sexy working without a shirt, Rodrigo,” Epona said, standing behind him.
Rodrigo had taken off his shirt and was wearing only pants. The gods had finally changed their clothes in Chaco and had continued wearing garments from there. The young man wore only khaki pants and sandals, since he had removed his shirt. He had also tied part of his hair back into a small ponytail.
“Ah, hello, Epona. What brings you here?” the young man asked.
The Celtic goddess wore a dark tunic, tied at the hips with a red belt. The dress reached her ankles and left part of her left shoulder exposed. Her hair, which she had begun letting grow longer, was tied into two charming braids resting over her shoulders.
“I came to talk to you… well, actually, we did,” the equine goddess continued.
Ana arrived as well and stood beside the Celtic goddess. Ana’s outfit remained the same one she had worn in Chaco: her white dress with a red belt.
“Rui, tell me,” Ana asked. “Was Bellona the one who told you something about humans being sacrificed to us?”
“Why are you asking that, Ana?” Rodrigo replied with a question as he stopped tilling the soil.
“I saw your dream, Rodrigo,” Epona answered, looking annoyed.
“Literally, Ana, Tania, and I were devouring you. I also saw Bellona as some walking corpse, and a fat man… who I assume must have been that Al-Mansur fellow,” she explained.
“We wanna talk about it, Rodrigo,” Ana added. “I don’t know what that witch told you, but we wanna make these things clear.”
“Have you… eaten humans in sacrifices?” Rodrigo finally asked bluntly.
“Eating? No,” Ana replied. “But I did receive energy from human sacrifices, especially from prisoners,” Ana answered with a serious, emotionless look, something that surprised Rodrigo.
“I’ve never received human sacrifices,” Epona said. “But they used to sacrifice horses to me… and I love them so much,” she added with a pained expression.
“So it is true,” the young man said gloomily.
“Rui, tell me, has anyone ever given you something you didn’t want?” Ana asked.
“It’s the same thing. We never, ever asked for them,” Epona explained.
“You never asked humans for something like that?” Rodrigo asked.
“NO!” both goddesses said in unison.
“Didn’t Tania gain some blood benefit from Almanzor’s massacres in Spain?” Rodrigo continued asking.
“No, Rui. Those times are already in the past,” Ana added.
“Neither wars nor sacrifices were part of Ana’s or Tania’s duties. They gained nothing from that violence,” Epona added.
“And about human sacrifices, well, it wasn’t something as drastic as what happened to Tania,” Ana explained. “But it’s not something nice either, when you feel those essences inside your body. They’re like cries.”
“Imagine dedicating your whole life to caring for horses, and suddenly some idle humans decide they should sacrifice those animals to you to make you happy,” Epona explained. “What kind of minds came up with that?”
“It must be terrible, I suppose,” Rodrigo said, a little more relieved.
“You’ve known us for almost a year now, Rui,” Ana said with a conciliatory smile. “We would never, ever ask humanity for something like that. Tania didn’t do it on purpose either.”
“That’s partly why we like helping,” Epona explained. “To keep these practices from continuing among them, even if it’s only one step out of millions we still have to take.”
“Don’t worry,” Rodrigo said. “I never distrusted you, even if my mind thinks foolish things.”
The young man smiled at them, and the two goddesses smiled back.
That afternoon, Rodrigo and Anpiel once again finished last and second to last in the Rarámuri afternoon race. Even though both had trained on Earth in order to survive, relying only on their human abilities and borrowing nothing from their divine power, the endurance of these people when running was phenomenal.
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After everyone had dinner together, the gods bathed in a nearby lake and proceeded to sleep. Loki still could not move, so Ana fed him again.
That night, Menrva hugged Freyja again as they slept, and the Norse goddess no longer resisted as much. Deep down, she truly felt safer receiving support from all her new companions, something she had never experienced with her fellow Norse gods.
“Why don’t you wanna talk about your past, Menrva?” the fertility goddess asked the Etruscan goddess that night.
Menrva remained silent for a moment.
“Because it embarrasses me,” the Etruscan goddess finally confessed.
“Embarrasses you? What kinda awful thing happened to ya?” Freyja asked, puzzled.
“Nothing… that’s the problem… I haven’t lived through anything as traumatic as everyone here,” Menrva confessed, disappointment on her face.
“But that’s a good thing, Menrva,” the fertility goddess replied.
“Not when I was put in charge of leading this group,” Menrva continued explaining. “How am I supposed to speak to Tania or Ana, after everything they’ve been through?”
“Exactly like ya did with me,” Freyja said, turning to look at the Etruscan goddess and smiling at her.
Menrva smiled as well.
“All right. I’ll think about it,” she said.
Both goddesses fell asleep, now with calmer expressions.
The next night, Menrva finally decided to open up and speak about her past.
Ever since she was a child, the goddess had admired the stories of Athena and wanted to imitate her. But since women were not allowed to be anything other than housewives and mothers, Tinia, Menrva’s father, locked his daughter in her room and did not let her leave until she abandoned those foreign ideas. However, Menrva’s brother, Laran, who was also the god of war, always came in secretly and taught his sister everything from how to wield a sword to how to read.
And so, the goddess spent several years locked away in an ivory prison. She had every luxury she could expect, but she could not leave her room. Every time her father asked if she was ready to come out, she replied that she would be, once he accepted her passion to also become a goddess of war.
When she reached adolescence, Laran took advantage of a conflict in which Man, Menrva’s kingdom, clashed with Saturnia. The Etruscan goddess’s brother helped her escape her kingdom and told her that no matter what path she chose, he would be very proud of her. Menrva had been living in the world ever since, perfecting her abilities and dreaming of meeting Athena one day—something she finally achieved.
“That is my life,” Menrva explained. “I know I have not experienced great hardships in my life, but I hope you will continue accepting me despite that,” the Etruscan goddess concluded.
The other gods applauded, and because of that, Menrva finally felt accepted.
After a week had passed, Loki was finally able to start moving, and Freyja had a brighter expression thanks to Tul’s therapies. Then the gods agreed to leave behind the small village where they had been staying and continue their journey south.
“After crossing this desert, you will reach one of the first Chichimeca kingdoms, the Zacatecos,” the village siríame said to Anpiel, who had already learned enough Rarámuri to speak with the people.
“And are they dangerous? We’ve been told they are warlike kingdoms,” Anpiel asked.
“Very much so. That is why we do not go any farther south,” the leader continued explaining. “They wage constant wars, and their rites are quite cruel and sadistic.”
“The one who rules the kingdom of the Zacatecos, however,” the siríame added, “is a deity who came from one of those enormous cities in the south, one that was abandoned long ago.”
“Are you referring to the Toltec Empire?” Anpiel asked with curiosity.
“It predates that empire,” the leader said. “In fact, most of the gods in Tula originally came from that mythical city, which I believe they call ‘the place where the gods were born.’”
Then the man turned to look at Rodrigo, who was standing there with the rest of Orniskem. Though only Epona, Tul, and Tania could understand a little of what the angel was saying.
“That boy is the living image of the king of the Zacatecos,” he said.
Rodrigo found it strange that Anpiel was staring at him so intently. Epona quietly told him that, apparently, his face was the same as the face of the king of the people they were heading toward next.
“Could that be the man the King of Tula mentioned? His supposedly dead brother?” Rodrigo wondered.
That night, the Rarámuri village held a festival to bid farewell to their guests of honor. The men began playing their drums and flutes while the entire village danced. Ana, Epona, Tul, and Freyja were the first to join the dance to the sound of the music.
“Apparently,” Anpiel said to the rest of the gods, who were still sitting and watching the festival, “music is the way they communicate with God—that is, with the universe.”
“Then, as gods, we must also communicate with them through that music,” Menrva said, intrigued.
“Well, you could do the same as Tul and the other three,” Tania said, pointing at the four goddesses showing their dance movements to the people.
Then some girls approached Rodrigo, Susanoo, Anpiel, and Loki to ask them to dance with them. Tania gave the young tannin a strong slap on the back.
“Go on, boy, don’t be shy!” she shouted.
The boys then began dancing with the village girls, while Tania and Menrva were left alone.
“Are you no longer worried about Athena?” Tania asked, noticing that Menrva had not protested about staying more than a week in the Rarámuri village.
“I am confident that Athena is well and knows what she is doing,” Menrva replied.
“This whole experience, helping a village with my own hands, without using my divine powers… it was a beautiful experience. I never believed I could feel this level of peace in my life,” the Etruscan goddess continued, looking at her hands, now covered in calluses from having to weave clothing and baskets.
“It is the most beautiful experience in this life,” the Punic goddess said.
“Humans can be cruel and merciless,” Tania continued, “but when they come together like this to live with one another or help each other despite their limitations, it shows that we still have much to learn from them.”
The dance lasted all night, until sunrise. After that, the village bid farewell to Rodrigo and his companions. Epona and Tul, especially, had formed great friendships with the village children and were able to say a few words to them in their language.
Once the formalities were over, the siríame, together with the village, said goodbye to the group. The gods, smiling, continued their journey south.