The day before yesterday, Mastitwo decided that his life of comfort was no longer enough. He ran away. I have no idea where he got out; we checked every inch of the fence, every board, every possible gap. Nothing. Not a clue. But the strangest thing was how he came back: completely covered in what looked like red paint. For an instant, I froze. What had he done? Had he staged a “Texas Chainsaw Massacre”-style massacre? My heart skipped a beat as I watched him walk so casually, as if he wasn’t smeared from head to toe with something that screamed suspicious. Then I got a good whiff. Paint? More like… sauce. Tomato? Peppers? Anyway, that remained mystery number one.
Hours later, the intrepid escape artist decided to give us a new show. We were on the terrace when, without looking back, he walked straight to the back of the house. With an almost envious confidence, he slipped through a wall of reeds so thick that it looked like the perfect hideout for a spy movie. And there, as if by magic… he disappeared! I called him a couple of times, and after a while he came out, as fresh as a daisy, with that “I didn’t do it” face that makes him almost endearing. I took him back to the terrace while I told Mireia: “Tomorrow we’ll figure it out. We have to figure out how the hell this hairy Houdini escapes.” It was getting dark, and between the paint/tomato/salsa and his new escapade, it was best to wait until the next day.
The next morning, after breakfast and packing up, I armed myself for the mission as if I were going into an Amazon jungle. Work clothes, helmet with protective mesh, and chainsaw in hand. If Mastitwo had a secret hideout, I would find it. I began to cut canes, slowly, because it was more lush than it looked. Between the branches and the sun that was streaming through, I was sweating as if it were the middle of summer. I knew that on the other side of the reeds was the creek, so I was careful. I didn’t want to end up slipping and making a soaking wet fool of myself.
I advanced little by little, opening a path where there was none before. And then, I saw it. The fence by the creek was gone. Gone. I stood still, trying to assimilate how something so big could disappear without a trace. The slope was steep, and the creek below glistened in the sun, quiet but treacherous. I peered carefully, first to the left, then to the right.
And that’s when I saw it. Something that shouldn’t be there.
At first I thought it was my imagination, but no, it was there. A pile of boxes, apparently made of plastic, and on top of them… remains of something that looked like crushed vegetables. Tomatoes? Peppers? My brain connected the pieces in fits and starts, but before I could come to a conclusion, Mastitwo appeared out of nowhere, like a ninja, with that same innocent face. He took two steps toward the crates, turned to me as if to say, “Do you get a ride, boss?” And that’s when I knew he wasn’t just a dog with a craving for adventure. He was a professional schemer.
With my heart pounding and intrigue growing, I put the chainsaw aside and climbed down, but I still had no idea what I was going to find as I got closer to those boxes. Mastitwo, meanwhile, was wagging his tail – proud, proud? Everything remained to be discovered…
Carefully, I made my way down the steep slope, feeling each step so as not to end up in the creek. The boxes were stacked in a strange way, almost as if someone had left them there on purpose. When I got close enough, the smell hit me. It was a mixture of fermented vegetables, damp earth and something I couldn’t identify. Mastitwo, on the other hand, seemed delighted. He wagged his tail enthusiastically and poked his snout through the boxes, pulling out chunks of what were, indeed, crushed tomatoes.
“But what the…?”, I muttered as I bent down to get a better inspection. The boxes had logos on them, worn lettering that was barely readable. “Cooperativa Agricola de…” and the rest was erased. The odd thing wasn’t just that they were there, but that they appeared to have been put there recently. The prints around the boxes were fresh, and some looked too big to be Mastitwo’s.
I started to put aside the boxes, one by one, trying not to dismantle the little chaos I had created. Underneath, I discovered something that chilled me to the bone: a sort of improvised tunnel, partially covered with branches and reeds, but clearly someone or something had done it with intent. It was partially covered with branches and reeds, but clearly someone or something had made it with intent. An escape for Mastitwo? Or something else?
At that moment, Mastitwo jumped into the tunnel as if it were his home, without a second’s hesitation. “Hey, no! Get out of there!” But it was too late. I watched him disappear into the darkness, his tail wagging merrily as if none of this was strange.
I stood for a few seconds on the spot, assessing my options. I could wait for him to come back, but knowing Mastitwo, who knows how long it would take. So, sighing deeply, I grabbed a flashlight that I always carry in my jacket pocket (you never know when you’re going to need it), and ducked in after him.
The tunnel was narrow, I could barely move forward without scratching myself on roots and reeds. Every step made me wonder what the hell I was doing there. A secret tunnel? Why was it so well hidden? And, more importantly, why did my dog seem to know it better than I did? After a few minutes of cautiously moving forward, I saw a faint glimmer of light at the bottom. “What the hell…?”
When I reached the end of the tunnel, I found myself in a kind of makeshift clearing, completely hidden from the outside. There were more boxes, some open, others stacked neatly. And in the center, something I wasn’t expecting: a table made of logs, on which rested tools, a pair of old gloves and… a knife?
Mastitwo was there, sitting there like it was nothing, watching me with that same innocent face, but now with a slight touch of “See, I knew you’d like it.”
And then I heard a noise. Footsteps. Clear, unmistakable. Someone else was there.
Chapter 2: The Whisper in the Glade
I stood still. The footsteps were slow, deliberate, but I couldn’t make out where they were coming from. Mastitwo, in his infinite tranquility, simply sat by the boxes as if all this was normal. My heart, on the other hand, felt like an out-of-tune drum set pounding in my chest. The flashlight trembled slightly in my hand.
“Who’s there?” my voice came out lower than I expected, as if the tunnel air had stolen my courage.
The footsteps ceased. All was eerily silent, broken only by the soft murmur of the stream in the distance. Taking a step toward the table, I took a closer look at the tools. They were not new, but neither were they abandoned. The knife had traces of a dried liquid on it that I didn’t want to identify yet. And next to it, a small notebook, closed with a leather cord.
“Mastitwo…I don’t like this at all,” I whispered, but he just cocked his head to the side as if waiting for me to finish investigating.
As I grabbed the notebook, I felt someone watching me. It was such a strong sensation that I turned suddenly, pointing the flashlight into the bushes. Nothing. Just the rustling of leaves in the wind.
I opened the notebook with trembling hands. The first pages were full of scribbles. Names. Dates. Coordinates. And then, drawings of what looked like… diagrams. There was something marked with circles and arrows, like a rudimentary map of the area. But before he could analyze it further, Mastitwo stood up and let out a soft grunt, low and continuous. He was looking down the tunnel.
“What is it now?” I asked, but my answer came before I finished the sentence: a loud bang echoed from the direction I had come from.
Chapter 3: The Encounter
I instinctively turned off the flashlight and ducked behind the table. Mastitwo, braver than me, stood there, staring into the tunnel, my mind was racing. My mind was racing – who could be there, what did they want, and why was this clearing filled with boxes and tools as if it were part of a clandestine operation?
The knocking was repeated, this time closer. I cursed myself for not having brought anything but the flashlight. I didn’t even have my chainsaw, which I had left by the creek.
“Mastitwo, come here,” I whispered. Surprisingly, he obeyed, though his gaze did not stray from the tunnel.
Suddenly, someone came out of the tunnel. It was not a complete stranger, but neither was it someone I expected to meet in this context. It was Manolo, the neighbor from beyond the creek, the guy who always said that the chickens in town were poorly cared for and who used to spend his afternoons repairing his tractor.
“Hey, who’s there?” he shouted, holding a flashlight in one hand and something that looked like a stick in the other.
For a second, relief washed over me. “Manolo! It’s me, what are you doing here?”
He paused, squinting. “Me? What are you doing here? This place isn’t for snooping around.”
That sentence left me frozen. His tone was not one of surprise, but of warning. Manolo took a step closer to the clearing and saw Mastitwo, who was looking at him curiously.
“This dog of yours… he’s been messing where he doesn’t belong for days. I don’t know how you find these things, but I advise you to leave right now.”
I didn’t know what to say. I looked at the boxes, the notebook in my hand and then at him. “What is all this, Manolo, what are you doing here?”
Manolo frowned, and for the first time, he looked uncomfortable. “Look, this is none of your business. Let it be. If you have any sense, forget you were ever here.”
But before I could respond, Mastitwo let out a high-pitched bark, pointing toward the bushes on the opposite side. Something moved fast in the shadows, and we both turned at the same time. “What the hell…?” muttered Manolo.
Chapter 4: The Stranger in the Shadows
The movement in the bushes was quick, almost imperceptible. But something or someone was there. Manolo raised the stick he carried, as if he could protect himself from whatever was lurking. My instinct screamed at me to flee, but something kept me in place. Perhaps it was intrigue, or maybe the fact that Mastitwo was still watching with a concentration I had never seen in him.
Suddenly, a figure slowly emerged. She was not tall, but tall enough to give me a shiver. He was wearing dark, almost shabby clothes and a hat that covered his face. In her hand she held an object that I couldn’t immediately identify. It looked like… an old flashlight? Or maybe something else.
“What’s going on here?” the figure asked in a low, slow voice. Neither Manolo nor I responded immediately.
Mastitwo, on the other hand, took a step forward, sniffing the air as if to identify the newcomer. The stranger crouched down, revealing a weathered and scarred face. He watched me with a mixture of curiosity and distrust.
“Are you the one snooping around here?” he asked me, completely ignoring Manolo.
“I…I was just following my dog,” I stammered.
The man let out a dry laugh, as if my response was a bad joke. “Your dog has more sense than you. This is no place for casual strolls.” And before I could say anything else, he added, “If you want answers, you’ll have to come back here tonight. Alone. But I warn you: sometimes, it’s better not to know.”
He turned and disappeared into the bushes as quickly as he had come, leaving Manolo and me in stony silence.
Chapter 5: The Decision
When the stranger disappeared into the bushes, Manolo approached me, his face a mixture of concern and anger. “I told you: this is no place to play around. You have no idea what you’re getting into.”
“And you do?” I replied, pointing to the boxes. “What’s all this, Manolo, what’s going on here?”
Manolo took a deep breath, as if debating whether to tell me something or not. In the end, he simply shook his head. “I can’t explain it to you. I’m just telling you not to come back. That man… he’s not someone you want to cross paths with again.”
But his warning did the opposite: it aroused my curiosity even more. Mastitwo, meanwhile, kept sniffing at the boxes, as if he knew there was still something important left to discover. I ignored Manolo, picked up the notebook and headed back down the tunnel, determined to return that night and face whatever awaited me.
Chapter 6: The Night of the Gathering
That night, after hours of debating with myself, I armed myself with a more powerful flashlight, a hunting knife and a mixture of nerves and determination. Mastitwo seemed excited, as if he knew something big was about to happen. We walked together to the tunnel, the moonlight barely illuminating the path.
The clearing was the same as before, although it looked more sinister in the dim night light. The boxes were still there, but the table was empty. I stood still, waiting, my eyes fixed on the bushes from which the stranger had emerged.
It didn’t take long. I saw him emerge from the shadows, his silhouette even more disturbing in the light of the flashlight. This time he was not alone. Two more figures accompanied him, both dressed similarly, with faces barely distinguishable under their hats.
“You came back. You’re braver… or dumber than I thought,” the man said, in the same gravelly voice.
“I want answers,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “What is all this, why are there boxes here, why is my dog obsessed with this place?”
The man smiled, a crooked grimace that did not inspire confidence. “I’ll give them to you, but you’re not going to like them.”
He pointed to the boxes and began to speak. According to him, the clearing was part of an ancient path used for smuggling, a secret route that connected to neighboring villages across the creek. The boxes contained remnants of goods that had long since been abandoned, but the tunnel and clearing were still used by those who wanted to move unseen.
“But there’s something else,” he added, lowering his voice. “Something even we try to avoid.”
Before I could ask what he meant, Mastitwo began barking furiously, peering over the edge of the clearing. I turned the flashlight just in time to see something moving quickly through the trees. It was big, bigger than I expected. A thud echoed, as if something heavy was hitting the ground.
“He’s coming!” shouted one of the men who was with the stranger.
“What’s coming, what are they talking about?” I asked, but no one answered.
Chapter 7: The Revelation
The stranger turned to me. “If you want to live, you must leave right now. Take your dog with you and don’t come back.”
But something in his tone, in his look, made me stay. It was fear, yes, but also a kind of resignation. As if he was facing something inevitable.
Suddenly, I saw it. A gigantic figure came out of the trees, its eyes shining like torches in the darkness. It was not an animal, nor was it a person. It looked like a mixture of both, a deformed, almost supernatural being. Its skin was covered with mud and leaves, and it emitted a low growl that made my whole body tense up.
“He’s the Guardian,” whispered the stranger, “He protects this place. He won’t let anyone take anything that doesn’t belong to him.”
The Guardian advanced toward us, his footsteps shaking the ground. Mastitwo, in an act of incomprehensible bravery, ran toward him, barking like a madman. “No, Mastitwo!” I shouted, but it was too late.
What happened next was… unexpected. The Guardian paused, leaning over Mastitwo as if sizing him up. My dog, far from being daunted, sat up and wagged his tail, as if greeting an old friend. The Guardian made a strange sound, almost a growl, and then turned, walking back toward the trees.
The clearing was silent. The men, including the stranger and Manolo, looked at me in disbelief. “I’ve never done that before,” one of them muttered.
The stranger approached. “It seems your dog has something we don’t. Maybe he’ll forgive you this time, but don’t come back.”
Chapter 8: The Return
We walked home in silence, Mastitwo walking beside me as if nothing had happened. I sat on the terrace, notebook in my hands, and tried to process everything I had seen. The smuggling story, the Guardian, the clearing… it was all too surreal.
But there was something I could not ignore. On one of the last pages of the notebook was a drawing: the Guardian, with a small dog sitting in front of him. Underneath, a single handwritten word: “Protector”.
Mastitwo looked at me from his corner, cocking his head to one side. “Who are you really, buddy?” I whispered to him. But, as usual, he only answered me with that “I didn’t do it” face and a gentle wag of his tail.
End.
From MasTorrencito we wish you a good day and may your dogs be with you!!!!
—
If you want, you can see our vouchers for weekends, retirees vouchers, at an incredible price …enter www.mastorrencito.com or if you want you can read more history and anecdotes that have happened to us in Mas Torrencito … Click here