Chapter Text
“Out of the depths I have cried unto Thee, O Lord,” (Psalm 130)
The sun was already sinking behind the mountains when the young backpacker realized she’d made a mistake. She’d been mistaken about the direction she and her companion were going for hours, but she said nothing. She kept thinking they’d see a sign showing them the right way, but it never happened. Her companion was already angry with her and demanding to see the map. At this point, it was better to admit defeat. They’d been walking in circles for God knows how long, and they were both ready to get back to the hostel. The two weren’t close friends; in fact, they’d only just met a few days ago. While the conversations in getting to know each other had filled the dead air for a while, now neither had the patience for niceties when they were lost in the Pyrenees.
“Deixa-me ver esse maldito mapa!” The younger of the two finally demanded, snatching it from the older one’s hands. “Não sabe para onde ir desde de manhã!” She shouted.
The older one rebutted, “Pensei que esta era a forma mais rápida de voltar. Deveria ter sido simples!” They argued over the map and compass for about twenty minutes before finally deciding to walk east. If they walked in one direction long enough, surely they’d find a main road or a cabin. Something. They did find a sign. It read Valdelobos: Valley of Wolves. They hoped the name was metaphorical rather than literal. Still, they’d been told that Spain has the largest wolf population in all of Western Europe and that while the wolves themselves were rarely a danger to humans, they should be more wary of shepherd dogs used to scare off the wolves. The two teenagers continued forward—they’d been down the isolated path for so long that seeing any hint of civilization would make them happy. So, when they came across a lone cabin, they thought nothing of it when they knocked on the front door.
It didn’t fly open; it creaked. They only got a glimpse of a man’s ashen face peering through. The older girl spoke first, switching to Portuñol, “Hola, estamos a caminar hace horas y estamos perdidos. ¿Nos puedes ayudar?” She held up the map. She hoped that he understood some of her words, since while they understood Spanish, most Spaniards didn’t know a word of Portuguese. The man didn’t fully reveal himself. He just looked. He walked back down the hall, leaving the door open… and the two naive women saw that as invitation enough.