Much of the fruits of this natural scenery were exploited to the maximum by various tribes, especially the Katakak tribe. Within a small radius, they had their huts and practiced fishing frequently almost every day.
Early one morning, as was the custom, some of the tribe went out to catch several dozen fish. It was a clear, soft morning, bathed in faint blue tones that contrasted delicately with the dancing yellow leaves of some trees called Ah-raguisnús. They were large trees on the banks of the river that accompanied rocks of various sizes. It was to these gray, rough seats that the Katakak would go to claim their daily food.
The oldest fisherman, Kiu, was also the most famous of the tribe. His taste for fishing and all the experience he had accumulated in this regard made him almost a god among his people. Kiu was the first to cast his rod from large rocks every dawn while whistling tribal melodies.
The young fishermen who went to greet him on his rock did not see him. But his rod was there intact. Where was Riu? What had happened to him?
The Katakak feared an ambush by the rival tribe, the Sohzuts. Almost all the young men went back to the huts to get their weapons, except for a couple of them who were left to watch the surroundings.
They came and went as fast as the noisy waters of the Manzanares, but were still surprised by the absence of the tribe watchmen. No matter how much they shouted their names to the surroundings, they got no response.
They were shocked to discover that the fishing rods of the missing men were floating in pieces downriver.
Tears of helplessness streamed down the red cheeks of Kúriko, leader of the Katakak, who had come with the other young men. His thoughts were only revenge now. He could not believe what had happened. And just as loud as his heart was beating, so was his voice raised to declare the attack on the Sohzuts.
Kúriko knew that the rival tribe also knew the entire surrounding area, and so he had better wait for the night while they slept to carry out the ambush. Amidst lush trees and a mist that was beginning to make one thing after another invisible, the Katakak decided to aim their arrows at the Sohzuts huts at the signal of Kúriko's short whistle.
The leader of the Katakak was bathed in a cold, dense fog, which, however, when it barely touched his skin, disappeared because of the flame of vengeance that burned in his being.
Then Kúriko saw the sky, as if remembering the fallen and emitted a couple of short whistles to initiate the attack.
Quickly the arrows transformed into a flock that pierced the dense fog and completely threatened the existence of the Sohzuts. Not only did each Katakak launch three arrows, but each arrow was an explosive that would explode as soon as it hit its target.
The arrows hit the torches surrounding each hut and boom! The gunpowder in the arrows detonated with the utmost vehemence, shattering each hut into many pieces.
As the smoke from the explosions dispersed, the Katakak spotted all kinds of figures on the ground. They sang victory almost all of them, for they thought they were the remains of the Sohzuts. But Kúriko put a stop to the jubilation. He knew something strange was going on.
Kúriko cautiously climbed down from the tree that protected him and walked with his bow drawn, waiting for some Sohzut to come out of nowhere. His companions imitated him with some fear. They feared a fatal counterattack.
But there was nothing because there were simply no Sohzut there. The figures spotted before were only the remains of the various objects manufactured by the rival tribe. There never was a more disconcerting counterattack.
The Katakak looked at each other trying to find an answer to this mystery. Even Kúriko did not know what to think. It was only clear to them that this was not an abandonment of the place by the Sohzuts. They would not leave all their objects there just like that. What would it all mean?
Just when the archer tribe thought that everything would be settled for them was when the fog got thicker than ever.
The invading tribe searched both curiously and cautiously for any trace of a living Sohzut, but the sky was still thick and not a naughty child was heard playing.
Kúriko ordered a retreat from the rival territory as dawn began to break. The Katakak, very dirty and somewhat stressed by that confusing situation, did not hesitate to bathe in the waters of the Manzanares on their way home.
It was a harmonious bath, full of winged concerts in each Ah-raguisnús, a cheerful evening light and clouds that seemed to rejoice in everything that was happening below them. One could breathe an incomparable peace.
Such calm was to be appreciated. Even by those who least expected it. Out of nowhere, a sound resembling the crashing of oval stones accompanied the crazed scream of one of the Katakak. His screams immediately alerted the others, who, in desperation, swam to where the attacked one was fighting.
Kúriko, somewhat more focused than the rest of the group, dived into the crystal clear waters to see who was attacking. But he could only see a young Katakák being dragged irretrievably downstream with the appearance of almost lifeless prey, with no apparent predator.
The lifeless Katakak was going downstream faster than his companions could swim. So they were soon frustrated and gave up the chase.
One after another they poked their heads out of the water like moles, looking everywhere for Kúriko. He seemed to have disappeared in such a frantic moment as well.
However, the only one of the young men who had remained on land, soon told them with great disappointment that their leader, Kúriko, had fled to the village. He confessed that instead of chasing the body, as they did, he had left the water in a hurry and ran into Katakak territory.
None of these young men had experienced so many bewildering events in such a short time.
But fate, or the Ka-ah, as they called it, would have more surprises for them. As disappointment and confusion brimmed over the little aboriginal bodies on their way home, a fleeting, stealthy sound slipped through the bushes. It was like a jaguar chasing its prey.
Then with the same fervor with which the waters of the Manzanares moved, the Katakak began to pursue the source of this mysterious sound. For a moment they thought they had lost it because of the speed with which it moved through bushes and rock formations, but an unexpected rumble a few meters ahead made them relocate the origin of their unbridled curiosity.
There, very close to the Manzanares delta, was Kúriko, full of gunpowder bags all over his body, as if stalking his worst enemy. The young men of the tribe were shocked to discover their leader in such a state. It was no longer treachery. It was heroism.
Kúriko knew the others were around. In fact, the entire Katakak tribe was crowding closer and closer to him. Almost like the rush of the wind, the idea that Kúriko wanted to realize passed from ear to ear. The reactions varied: some sobbed; others were shocked. No one could believe what Kúriko was going to do.
Under the condoling gaze of the Katakak, Kúriko threw small pieces of prey into the water. He spread them all around the Ah-Musz rock, a large, hollow, silty rock in the middle of the riverbed that the wise Katakakak said was inhabited by a strange, invisible creature. Almost everyone in the tribe knew of this legend, but no one paid much attention to it.
It was in the blink of an eye that everyone saw Kúriko make a violent spear-like thrust into the restless waters of the Manzanares. Within seconds of becoming one with the water, Kúriko protruded from it, as if trying to open something while struggling vehemently with what seemed like nothingness. Accompanied by Kúriko's warlike noises, terrible growls resembling the growls of a wild boar resounded several times among the Katakak and the surrounding trees.
To the evident astonishment of the tribe, Kúriko made a fleeting sign. It was the signal to be arrowed. Yes, the leader's plan was to immolate himself to eliminate the threat that had been disappearing all the villagers in the vicinity of the river.
Then it was Kúriko's wife herself, who with a face full of tears, shot several arrows at once into the powdered body of her husband. The great explosion occurred immediately, even though the gunpowder was wet. For the Katakak had succeeded in obtaining an impermeable powder after centuries of intensive testing.
After the smoke had dispersed, only a silhouette remained in Ah-Musz for all to see. The once slimy rock now exhibited in its center a mark denoting a human arm holding what looked like the mouth of a large fish with whiskers, like a tiger, and with long protruding tusks, like an elephant.
It is precisely this image that can be seen on the mythical rock today. Although many say that these tribes never existed, and that the mark on the rock is natural, there is no denying its intriguing similarity to the members of the fierce fighters of that time.
We also have a scroll that was allegedly written by the Katakak to forever commemorate this event.
Thank you for coming to Kum-ana Corp. to see the virtual simulation of the fantastic history of our Manzanares River.
This story was inspired by prompt #9 legend.
