we hear a click as she takes each photo, and the image freezes for an instant. there's the hillside, covered in its vine, its red flowers: click. there's eric pulling the water bottle from his pack: click. there's stacy smiling at us, waving: click. there's mathias shading his eyes, peering up the hill.
a bald mayan man is on the horse; he's broad-shouldered, short, in his early forties, dressed in a white shirt and pants. the horse rears a second time, and the image freezes for an instant, with a click, as amy snaps another picture.
the bald man is still holding the reins; the horse is backing away from him, jerking its head, trying to break free, pulling him, step-by-step, back toward the trail. click.
the young men have bows slung across their chest, and quivers of thin, fragile-looking arrows. they question the bald man in mayan, very rapidly. he's still aiming his pistol at mathias. a click, and the image freezes for an instant.
still backing up toward the hill; all of them but stacy and eric are in the frame now. the bald mayan is still answering the young men's questions. he turns toward us suddenly, points his pistol directly at us,.starts to shout.
stacy is in the frame now. we retreat one more step, and so is eric, and the mayans with their raised weapons, the bald man still shouting: everything freezes on the click.