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Although the darkness of night is softened by the full moon, Melquíades has an even greater advantage in night hunting because he’s colour-blind, just like wild boars. His head, smooth and white as an egg, glistened in the darkness. The feeling of sheer terror, though, doesn’t overtake the feeling of freedom. He doesn’t know what to believe: whether Melquíades is the supposed fugitive he found; whether Bronco Gil and Valdênio plotted the guard’s death; or whether, in the end, his own survival lies in the hands of the convicts.