The cemetery spread along the area known as Devil’s Abode. Looking down from his perch, high above in the Ponderosa Pines, Red Bird could just make out the distant hills beyond the trees and grassy slopes that encircled the red clay of the grave sites like protective guardians.
“So,” he thought, “this is where they all live. Muy bonito.”
It seemed right that the small, fantastically colored wooden people he’d seen in the mercados al aire libre, some with just faces and no bodies; the ones they called Los Diablos, would live in such a beautiful place. He hopped off his perch, spreading his wings as far as he could and glided the entire way from the pines down to cemetery to get a closer look at las casitas de los diablos.
Lurking in the mausoleums’ shadows, Gato Demonio could not believe his dumb luck when the sumptuous scarlet treat he spied in the pines above seemed to be coming right to him.