Explore "Mancunima: the Hero with no Character" by Mario de Andrade on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
One time the four were heading down a path in the woods mighty parched with thirst, far from the flooded forests and lakes. There weren't even any juicy umbu plums in the neighborhood and Vei, the Sun, was slashing through the foliage, constantly whipping at the backs of the wayfarers. Sweating just like in a Pajelança ceremony where everyone slathers their bodies with pequi oil, onward they marched. Suddenly Macunaíma stopped short, scratching that night of silence with a sweeping gesture of alarm. The others froze in their tracks. Not a thing could be heard but Macunaíma whispered:
"Something's there."