But before either of us could say anything, the black jaguar hissed and raked its claws across the wooden bars of its cage. Ihuitmal looked over his shoulder and bowed his head slightly before murmuring, "Of course. I forgot." He took the lid off the basket and pulled a rabbit out by the ears. It let out a plaintive squeal of pain so he supported its rump with his other hand as he carried it over to the cage. The jaguar's tail swished like an excited dog's and it leaped down from its perch in the tree and waited for him at the bars.

Part of me marveled at my uncle's bravery, approaching such a ferocious beast with food in his hands; the other part wondered if he was crazy and trembled at the thought that I might witness the cat tear his arm out of its socket. I couldn't look away though, as if I'd been entranced by a sorcerer.

Ihuitmal approached the cage with seemingly no fear, holding the rabbit out before him. The jaguar hissed when he came close and backed away a few steps, but when my uncle reached through the bars, it came forward again and snatched the rabbit from his hands. The rabbit screamed between the cat's fangs though it faded quickly as the jaguar held it to the ground and squeezed it in its jaws. Finally I was able to look away, horrified.

"One should never turn away from the sacrifice, Papalotl," Ihuitmal chastised me. "Or someday you might find yourself the one on the sacrificial stone."

I hesitated to look up but when I did, the jaguar had already dragged its kill into the tree and was tearing the fur off.

"Everyone must eat, child," Ihuitmal said then he sat on the bench. "But we were talking of other things, of stories your mother's telling you."