What Time? The Nighttime PT 2

 The smell of something I can't name. A phantom, a dream of memory.
See you? Come sit with me child. One day, you too, will be as free as those other children, those birds…

Wet, calloused fingers touched my face. I snapped up, out of this man's touch. Except it was not a man, but the boy who's shed roof I'd crashed through.
His hands were rough from hard work. Gingerly I touched my left wing. It felt like muscle had torn from bone. my heart started to race. That ass kissing Juan would be out for my blood.
Through all this the boy sat next to me looking spacey, bucktoothed and dumbly holding a cloth to place upon my forehead, as if somehow it would help my fucking wing... But I realised I was taking out my frustration mentally on him. At least he hadn't tried to bandage anything.
It was dark inside the shack, a single candle illuminating just my face and his.
"You got a name, kid?" I say.
He just blinks. With his widely spaced eyes and bucktoothed grin sticking out, he looked a lot like the goats he tended.
"Name?" I try again.
Blink.
Great he doesn't understand me! My Spanish is shot but I tried, "Cu vi paraolas la anglan?"
He looked at me like I had grown a second head, which considering I already had two wings probably wouldn't have surprised him that much.
"Esperanto?" He answered uncertainly.
"Uh...Si?" came my just as dubious reply.
He shook his head and left in a hurry.
I noticed I was in a little room of sorts, a curtain separating me from the space outside. The youth came back talking animatedly in what didn't sound Spanish. He entered pulling on the sinewy arm of a man who seemed to be in his late 60s. He had a weary, kind face. He instantly put me at ease.
I gave him a gave him a hesitant smile and he rushed over speaking and gesturing rapidly.
"Saluton, mi estas felica vin malgranda diskuto en meksiko. Neniu pli bone konata pro nia!"
I sat, not comprehending much of what he spewed forth. I looked to the boy, who was nodding vigorously. Not much help there. From what I could guess, it seemed like he spoke Spanish, but not well because he was 'small talk in Mexico'? I assumed he meant he was a minority language speaker.
Just my luck! I tried asking where I was, the language slowly coming back to me a bit more.
"Kie en meksiko estas mi?"
Concentrating I gathered I was near some place called Zona de preservacion Ecoligica Cerro something something.
I breathed a sigh of relief. It's far from Mexico City, I think.
Not that it matters of course. Miguel maybe decomposing, but HE was still around, and that meant I was still his property. I ground my teeth together in frustration.
The boy and the old man staring at me with goofy smiles on their faces. Fools didn't even know how much danger they were in, harbouring me!
The kid said something and the father translated, "My son say you very beautiful."
I laughed in spite of myself. It seemed he'd practiced some of that line a lot.
"What would your wife say?" I giggle. At this the mood darkened. "Did she die?" I cringed.
The father shook his head, hugging the boy. "Si estas tre bela, kiel vi. Si stelis narcotraficante, li prenas sin al preservacion kie kasi."
His son started to weep. As I took in his words heat crept up my neck. I was getting angry. The scumbag drug lord who had kidnapped his wife to be his concubine was hiding out in the national Reserve, probably paying off government officials to get away with it! I know all too well how that felt...
I got up. "Hey! This is no time to be a wuss, you're going to tell me where she is and then I'm going to get her back."
My wing might be fucked, but I still had a few other tricks up my sleeve.
The old man shook with awe his eyes pricking with tears now, "Ho dankon, dankon Angelo!"
I grunted, "Don't thank me yet.”

To be continued...