Free The Ugly One by Leanne Statland Ellis Page B

vague sense that somehow the
huaca
had been a part of the dream that danced in the dark just out of memory’s reach. I tried to call it forth, concentrating on the sacred stone and what it might have to say, but there was nothing. No
huaca
voice. No language from Beyond. I would visit the Paqo after the greeting to tell him of my decision.
    Sumac perched erect on my shoulder as if he were standing guard, awaiting the rising of the Sun God. The remaining clouds in the sky were thin and deep red. Inti would soon show himself. I rose and held my arms to the sky. “Oh, Inti,” I chanted.
    â€œInti, Inti, Inti,” Sumac mimicked in his bird voice. He had begun copying many sounds lately, and “Inti” was the first word he had learned.
    I kept my focus on the Sun God. “Great Father of the Inca. Shine glory on us in safety. Shine glory on us in peace. Shine glory on us in wisdom. Keep our minds clear in light. Keep our hearts young in warmth. Keep our feet straight on the light path, for we are your children. Inti, Inti, Great Father of the Inca.”
    Here I added my own personal prayer to the sun. It was perhaps selfish of me to do so, but every morning I implored, “And please, Mighty Inti, remove my scar.” I knew he could do it if he so chose. But how was an ugly, scarred girl to convince the Sun God she was worthy of such attention? I kissed my fingers and bowed to the sky, the mountains silent witnesses to my worship.
    The cool wind blew my hair this way and that as Inti first appeared on the horizon. I smiled at him, gladness radiating from my heart. I should have been praying for rains, yes, but the warmth of Inti’s rays on my face brought me much joy. How could I ignore such happiness? It was a true mystery to me, how the Sun Maiden Chuguillanto could choose a short life with a llama herder rather than eternity with Inti. Watching his fiery body rise between the distant mountains, I could feel him in my own beating heart, spreading love throughout my chest and warming my entire being. He was our father, the most powerful of the gods. And he shone on me as if I were just as worthy as the beautiful Chuguillanto.
    The greeting done, I sat to enjoy a light breakfast alone with Sumac. The moment I removed the pouch of cold cooked corn, he jumped to the ground and squawked in delight. The Handsome One favored the golden corn above all else, a sure sign he was a true bird of Inti and not of the faraway jungles. He took a kernel in his beak and ate it hungrily, flipping the soft discarded casing onto the dirt.
    Mama was forever complaining about how messy Sumac was, and she had cause to grumble. While I was careful to clean up his droppings, it was difficult to capture the seed casings that he scattered across the floor. Mama also did not appreciate that Sumac was forever trying to sneak dried corn from our large storage jar. Each time she saw him waddling toward it, she would scold, “No. No. No! NO!” Each
no
was louder than the one before it, until the bird finally gave up and ran away. Lately, whenever Sumac approached the jar, he would squawk, “No. No. No! NO!” in his funny bird voice, warning Mama of his intentions even before she had noticed and could tell him to stop. He couldn’t seem to help himself, even though he gave himself away every time.
    â€œHe is a horrible thief,” Mama would say with a half smile.
    Father was more forgiving of the bird, for he enjoyed the molted red feathers Sumac left behind. Mama had already woven some of the longer ones into Father’s woolen cloak, and he strutted about like royalty whenever the opportunity presented itself. Father also appreciated one of the sounds Sumac had learned from our family. The Handsome One imitated Father’s unhappy sigh perfectly, and Father enjoyed having a fellow complainer in our midst.
    A piece of corn casing was stuck to the side of Sumac’s beak. With a vigorous shake of his