We’d spent days wandering in the desert. Some days the pair of us danced to appease the spirits. Other days we simply walked. Our ceremonial garb had long ago gone dirty and tattered.

One day we came upon a holy man. He was digging a large pit in the middle of the desert.
Nick pointed at the large hole. “Estas escarbando un pozo?” Are you excavating a well?
He nodded. “Si. Es para usted.” Yes. It’s for you.

We walked on until we reached the city. The virgin guarding the gates stood with open arms. But it wasn’t a welcome she offered us. She gently delivered a skull into Nick’s hands.
“Esto es la muerte?” He asked. Is this the death? His gaze was transfixed on the skull. “Agua es vida,” he mumbled. Water is life.
The virgin led us to a waterfall. For two full days we danced, hoping to appease the gods. On the third day the villagers led us to the chapel. The virgin’s face was painted like the skull she had given us.

It wasn’t a well the holy man dug for us. It was a grave.