THE  JOURNEY DOWN the rivers, back to the Rio Madre de Dios and from there, Boca Colorado, was uneventful, save for long hours of tedium, navigating endless long swoops and bends, tripling or even quadrupling the mileage that they could have traveled by road, had one existed, or even by plane, had there been a place to land anywhere closer to where their destination had been.

At least they made better time, traveling downstream, and aided by the outboard motor. By midmorning on the second day, they'd made it back to the landing just upstream of town, close to the airstrip. As before, they negotiated the trail from the river to the airstrip, after deflating the dinghy, retrieving the aluminum cart from the plane on the first trip to help with the heavier loads later. Skip had never been so glad to see Lucille parked there, waiting to fly them home. After one brief detour, of course.

During the preflight checks and during takeoff, Zane, from the co-pilot's seat, watched his father intently, and with his hands on the auxiliary controls, remembered his own recent experiences in takeoff and landings. Skip noticed his careful attention, and it brought to mind scenes from his "Inti vision," as he'd come to think of it.

"One day, you'll be the one in the left-hand chair, giving lessons to your sister," he told Zane, noting by his son's expression that he'd been given similar information.

"I've been thinking about that," said Zane. "Lucille is like the family SUV. I'm gonna need my own plane."

"They don't come cheap. But you'll graduate, get a well-paying job, work hard and save up. I know you'll make it someday. What are you in the market for?" Skip figured he'd been online, searching and dreaming, maybe of something light and sporty, like a Tomark Aero Viper, or high performance, like the Cirrus SR 22. But Zane surprised him.

"DeHavilland Beaver, with options for both bush tires or floats."

"Ah, keeping it classic. Good choice. One of the best bush planes ever built."

The long flight back toward Killa's village, Fawcett's Lost City of Z, otherwise known as the City of the Jaguar, was accomplished in two marathon days, staying the night in Riberalta, and using Puerto Maldonado on one end, and Sinop on the other as refueling stops. Skip followed the GPS coordinates he had noted earlier, and passed over the village, waggling his wings as he did so, to let Killa know they were on their way. That might have raised Puma's dander too, but right now that wasn't Skip's priority. Then, he retraced his route, using the rivers as a guide, until he found the rough landing strip they had used before, by the illegal gold mining site. He was glad to find it still abandoned. From here, they could take the Newport dinghy, now with a more powerful motor, all the way to the village.

After landing, and before launching, however, there was one small bit of business to take care of. With Nusiri leading the way, they headed over to the crashed plane, a task she would gladly have avoided a week ago. But now they needed any information they could find. It wasn't much, but every little bit helped. 

Nusiri filled Skip in on what she had been shown by the vision in the Temple of the Sun. "I saw just enough to make me see that this is something we can do. Something I want to do. Something I need to do. There was just the three of them, mother, father, and daughter, with no other living relatives back home. They were doctors, not missionaries. And the girl's name is Hope."

"Fitting," said Skip, as he took note of the plane's registration number. "I like that name. It's something the world can use right now."

"Oh, and one detail I just now remembered. The mother was one-quarter Navajo." She paused for a moment, then said, "I think this is all meant to be, somehow. Like Zane, working out who he is, will help her with her own identity issues."

Inside the wreckage, they found the usual charts and maps, medical supplies, and of course, baby supplies. That was something they could use, and they greatly appreciated whatever was still usable, especially the infant seat, still intact, that had no doubt saved Hope's life. Along with that, they retrieved a cute, brown teddy bear, one last connection to Hope's birth family that they could bring back to her.

They also found names to put with the deceased parents, Bill and Hannah McDonald, from Phoenix, Arizona. That, along with the plane's numbers, would give them a start on what they hoped would lead to an adoption. Skip's old friend, Dave McRae, who was now an attorney, could help. Before leaving, they found the gravesite where Killa had buried Hope's parents. Skip, Nusiri, and Zane all spent a few minutes paying their respects and praying for guidance for themselves as they took a leap of faith with their own futures. Then, they returned to their inflatable boat, and headed upstream, taking one more step toward that future.

When they arrived, Killa was there, waiting, as if she'd been expecting them. With power behind the boat, it didn't take much more than two hours to make the trip up the rivers, a fraction of the time it had taken in Killa's dugout canoe. It would be even quicker on the way back down. With any luck, they'd be back in Cuiaba tonight, Macas the night after that, and home a day or two later.

"I know why you have come," Killa told them.

Out of the corner of his eye, Skip noticed that someone else had seen their arrival as well. Puma, along with one of his warrior cohorts, was giving them a hard stare. He'd deal with that later, if need be. Right now, there were other matters at hand.

Killa led them first to her hut. The woman who had been taking care of the orphaned baby was there, along with Baby Hope herself. While Nusiri  made over the baby, hoping that she might soon be part of their family, Skip filled Killa in on their journey and adventures. Killa was not surprised to hear tales of shapeshifting man-spirits, or of the Eye of Inti, tuned in to the frequency of God himself. She had had similar experiences.

""I saw it all many years ago," she said. "You are here because it was foretold. I knew an airplane would crash and that there would be a survivor, a foundling." She nodded to Hope, now almost asleep in Nusiri's arms. "I saw that someone would come, a family, who could take her in. I knew you would come, even before you had even planned to come here. The Eye of Inti can show you the past, the present, or the future. Sometimes all three. It shows you not always what you want to see, but what you need to see."

Then Skip thought to ask about Jack Fawcett. They needed to bring him up to date as well.

"He is not doing so well," Killa told them. "His time runs short, and he does not have very much longer. I will take you to see him before you leave."

Considering Jack Fawcett's remarkable longevity, no one was surprised at this news. He had lived to be one hundred and twenty-five years old, after all.

Upon seeing the family of adventurers a short time later, Jack's expression was that of being at peace with the world, and of acceptance of the inevitable. He smiled as Skip told their tale. He seemed as if he had been holding on just for them.

"It makes my heart glad that I was able to pass along the story of the City of Z, and especially of its origins in the City of the Sun. I'm glad that it was you who saw the meaning in that quipu. That was why I had coded the clues in such a way. So whoever found them and followed through would take the messages received to heart, rather than plunder the riches."

"The true riches, the true treasure, are to be found within," said Skip.

"Oh, we did come away with a treasure we can take with us," said Nusiri, lifting Hope, who was now wide awake again, to a sitting position.

They had not planned the visit to be long, and it was getting on time to go. They stood in the doorway of Jack's hut for a minute, saying heartfelt goodbyes. But as they turned to leave, Skip's attention was diverted down the hill.

"Here comes trouble," he muttered.

Puma was standing several yards away, holding his spear at the ready, fitted to his atlatl. Beside him was one of his accomplices, with a bow drawn and arrow aimed at Skip.

Killa and the others had seen them as well.

Skip began leading them down to the boat.

"Stop!" yelled Puma.

"Go!" urged Killa.

Skip ran.

Until he felt a searing pain in his leg.

Followed an instant later by another in his side.

And then he went down.