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The locals of the village often spoke of their lake as something of a place of reverence. Some would tell you that you must be careful when walking the shores or along the rocks, as you could possibly drown, while not specifying how that could happen without falling into the water itself. Others would tell you to bring gifts when you visit, especially if you’re expecting a child, as a deity of childbirth resides in the lake. And still, some would claim that the deity is not one of childbirth, but one of righteous vengeance.
Regardless of what one may be inclined to believe, there are still signs posted around the lake at various points in both English and Spanish, encouraging you not to swim, fish, or even touch the waters, a fair amount of them even suggest keeping the volume around the lake to a minimum. There were some signs that suggested it’s because of crocodiles, but the majority of the signage didn’t specify why, aside from the lake itself being a point of cultural significance, of course.
When visiting during the day, there’s usually small groups of people, some taking pictures, others leaving offerings. The lake is truly a beautiful sight to behold; the waters are crystalline, impossibly blue, clear enough to see schools of fish swimming along, only growing darker in the depths far enough off shore to no longer be visible, though at the center of the lake, there appears to be an island of sorts. It’s small, only a few feet across, it seems, and the historical signage suggests that it could feasibly be a result of silt deposits… or even the top of a lost temple.
At night, however, the lake is something eerie. Even the frogs and evening bugs that sing prefer to do so closer to the adjoining rivers rather than the lake proper. But if one were to be quiet, and listen closely, they’d occasionally hear the unmistakable sounds of water being agitated, low clicking, or even a low bellowing sound if one were to be too loud.
This evening, however, there *is* someone along the shoreline. Which… is uncommon this time of year. The air gets a little bit of a chill at night, and the fog that forms along the surface of the lake usually keeps people away… usually.
Miguel watches them with his head just barely above the surface of the water, his eyes glowing like that of a crocodile’s, a red light in the mist, tracking them. What are they even doing here?
**”Véte de aquí.”** Miguel grumbles lowly, his voice carrying across the water in a way that gives no indication as to where it’s coming from, a few trilling clicks following, the sound scattering in the fog. He hopes that the warning will be enough to scare them off, he’s not quite in the mood to drown someone tonight, but… a small part of him wonders why they’re here in the first place. It’s not tourist season, and none of the locals would be here… so why are they? He watches them from afar, waiting to see what they will do.
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