Chapter Eleven
Huna's story
Masaya, Nicaragua, 120 B.C.
It was a night without a moon, and Huna was hunting alone. Although his need for blood had been satisfied the night before, his desire for prey had him restless.
As he neared the village, he could feel the pulse of life even before he saw the small fires burning outside the huts.
A rumor had spread that the Winged Devils feared fire, that it rendered them powerless. This, of course, wasn't true and allowed Huna to prey upon their gullibility.
He perched high and waited. Soon, a woman left one of the huts and began wandering into the palm-covered area near the edge of the clustered dwellings.
He spread out his wings and expanded his back and chest. He dove from the branches into a free fall, swooping toward the dark area he had
