The black cat stalked to the river’s edge and stared at Eve, calmly judging the distance. It dipped one paw as if testing the temperature, then shook it distastefully and backed away. Mama lay unmoving in a welter of blood. The Beast had stolen her song. Little One had disappeared, taken by the river.
The Tribe gathered in the trees, screaming hatred for their ancient enemy, showering the cat with broken branches and fecal matter. But they could do little more than annoy it. Tickles courageously approached close enough to score a solid hit with a hefty rock. The cat whirled, snarling, and charged him, and the young ape sprinted up a tree with the enemy breathing on his heels. In a tremendous, panic-inspired effort, Tickles leaped across to safety in a neighboring tree. Disgruntled, the cat returned to its meal, ignoring further efforts to drive it away. It began licking Mama’s body with a strange tenderness, as if washing one of its own young.
Twilight sucked the last vestiges of light from the sky and passed on into darkness. The apes finally gave up their vigil and went to build nests for the night, all except Tickles and Nutcracker, silent now, waiting for the cat to leave, waiting for Eve. Numb with grief and shock and the chill of the water, Eve remained unable to respond to their frequent calls of encouragement. Mercifully, she could no longer see the black monster devouring Mama. The moon rose above the canopy and cast the world in silver, but deep shadows lurked beneath the trees overhanging the beach. Eve caught a glimpse of eyes shining in the darkness. The Beast waited for her, waited with the cat. Its eyes reflected all the lives it had stolen. Her legs trembled, unused to a prolonged upright posture. The river pushed. Exhausted, rigid with cold, she finally toppled sideways into the current.
This time she didn’t struggle, and the river carried her along on its surface almost gently, sweeping her farther and farther from her Tribe. Nearly catatonic, she remained incapable of reaching for low-hanging limbs, and the trees had to net her in the sieve of their branches before she reacted to pull herself ashore. She clambered stiffly into a tree crotch and huddled there until morning, unmoving, unsleeping, unfeeling.
* * *
As soon as it grew light enough to see, Eve climbed down and hurried back along the shore. Across the river, only a pile of bones and tattered black hair remained of Mama. The cat had long since left, but so had the apes. For the first time in her eight years, Eve remained utterly alone. She hurled a despairing plea across the water, and a short time later Tickles appeared. He climbed into an opposing tree, and they stared at each other across the unbridgeable expanse.
Eve made a crude nest in the branches and for seven days she barely moved. She watched small scavengers scatter Mama’s remains. Tickles finally abandoned her the morning of the fourth day. She sensed the Beast hovering over her, invisible, formless, waiting for hunger to strip her bones as grief and despair stripped her spirit. At night she dreamed: the river was a great serpent that carried her on its back; its skin reflected all the colors of the world; its voice sounded like the rustling of branches, signaling her to follow, whispering secrets, promises beyond her comprehension.
In the end, fear of the Beast drove her to break her fast, and youthful resilience quickly restored her strength and appetite. But the joyous innocence of childhood died with her mother. Solitary, aimless, she followed the beckoning of the river.
* * *
Seasons passed. When the weather warmed enough to produce fruit, Eve feasted on litchis, figs and pears. The rest of the time she survived on nuts, green shoots, insects and a variety of leaves. She grew accustomed to loneliness. The river remained her friend. At night it sang to her with a constancy that kept the Beast at bay; by daylight she followed it as she had followed her mother. Occasionally she heard distant calls of her kind. She would pause to listen, but she never answered. They remained the calls of strangers.
Eve foraged along the riverbank the day she first encountered those strangers. She discovered a recently deposited pile of feces, and the scent seemed so sharply, pungently familiar, it awakened an irresistible longing. For the rest of the day she searched, wandering farther and farther from the water. Finally, in early evening, she discovered a small group of foragers, one elderly male, two females with young and an adolescent male. She stepped hesitantly out of hiding. They stared intimidatingly and exchanged gestures of alliance amongst themselves. The older male bristled and barked the recognition call of his clan. Eve made a pleading gesture of friendship. She trembled as the strangers gathered around her, poking and sniffing. Young females often wandered, searching for new mates from unrelated bloodlines, but Eve had not yet experienced her first estrus, and didn’t have that sexual allure to assure acceptance. The elder male deemed her harmless and walked away, his grizzled mane and beard subsiding. One of the females trailed after him, but the other continued to sit before Eve, glaring ominously. The cold, unnatural gleam in her eyes sent a shiver up Eve’s spine, like a chill night wind. She averted her gaze submissively. The adolescent male gathered up his little brother and began to move away, but hesitated, torn between staying with his mother and following Grizzle.
Again, Eve reached out pleadingly. With shocking abruptness, Wind-in-the-Eyes batted her gesture aside and lunged to attack, sinking teeth into Eve’s shoulder. Heavy blows thudded against Eve’s back. Terrified and bleeding, she scrambled away and fled screaming into the upper canopy. She watched from a distance as mother and son rejoined their companions, then she followed through the upper branches and observed as they met another, larger group and settled down for the night. That evening Eve made her night nest within hearing of her own kind, but she missed the soothing voice of the river.
For many days Eve studied the stranger-apes from a distance. Though aware of her presence, they ignored her. She observed the intricacies of their gesture dialect, the variations in their vocal communications. She learned to recognize individuals, their habits, personalities, and their position within the larger community. Branchbreaker stood as the undisputed alpha, a magnificent, burly male in his prime, who easily dominated his frequent companions, Nestbuilder, Eats-bugs and Monkey-killer. Grizzle looked old and had probably never enjoyed high status. But he remained unusually gentle and tolerant with youngsters, a trait which made him very popular with the females. Digger, the son of Wind-in-the-Eyes, struggled to establish a place in the hierarchy, and often showered his rivals with dirt during frequent displays of aggression. After the violence he always made apologetic gestures to those he hurt or frightened. Wind-in-the-Eyes, however, seemed to delight in tormenting those clan members who acted timid, or appeared physically weaker than herself. Honeysuckle, a young female, heavily pregnant, provided her favorite target. No mother, no siblings rushed to Honeysuckle’s aid when she was bullied. She stood at the very bottom of the hierarchy. Occasionally, precocious youngsters even tried to intimidate her, and if she dared defend herself, she had their mothers to deal with.
One morning, Eve found Honeysuckle wandering alone except for Sunflower, a young mother with a three-year-old infant. Eve descended cautiously from her perch and sat nearby while they fished for fiery siafu ants. They had grown accustomed to her distant presence by now, and her approach inspired only mild wariness and curiosity. When they moved on, she trailed behind, stopping to feed when they stopped, resting when they rested. Late in the afternoon, she crouched near Honeysuckle and reached out beseechingly. Honeysuckle gazed into her eyes searchingly, then shyly touched her hand in acceptance. They foraged side by side for a while, and when Honeysuckle settled in a patch of sun to rest, Eve cuddled close, grooming her new friend contentedly.
* * *
Eve remained uncomfortably aware of Wind-in-the-Eyes watching her. The rest of the clan accepted her indifferently. A few directed displays of dominance toward her, but they soon lost interest when she submitted without protest. Wind-in-the-Eyes, however, seemed to resent Eve’s presence, especially since it strengthened Honeysuckle. Though young and uncertain, Eve never hesitated t
o defend her only friend, and together they presented a much more formidable opposition.
Honeysuckle had seemed unwell all day. She stopped often to rest, sometimes hunched in pain. Sensing her vulnerability, Wind-in-the-Eyes lingered nearby. At last, too uncomfortable to go on, Honeysuckle began bending down bushes to form a nest on the ground. She lay down and Eve huddled beside her. Digger wandered off, following Grizzle and Eats-bugs. Eventually Wind-in-the-Eyes, hungry and bored, left as well. Honeysuckle moaned occasionally, shaken by strange convulsions. Eve groomed her comfortingly, and sat close by, offering warmth and sympathy. After a while, hunger sent Eve in search of food. She found a bush of succulent leaves and, as she sat in its midst, a familiar murmuring tickled her ears. She remembered the whispered song of the river, the way it tugged at her spirit, luring her onward. It called to her now, but it called to a heart no longer quite so desolate and lonely. She resisted.
Eve tore off an armful of leafy twigs and carried them back to her friend. Honeysuckle seemed glad of her presence but showed no appetite. A strange smell clung to her, and the leaves of her nest had grown salty and wet. As the afternoon wore on, her pains came and went. They distorted her body. Eve watched anxiously as a strange deformity emerged from Honeysuckle’s body. She leaned close and sniffed. The scent seemed oddly familiar, yet utterly mysterious. It awakened a tingling sense of anticipation and excitement. Honeysuckle gave one more tremendous, groaning push, and the dark, wet thing slid free. The harmony which had lent richness to Honeysuckle’s life-music separated to form its own song.
* * *
The new baby fascinated Eve and she shadowed her friend even more closely in the days that followed, trying to touch and play with the infant. Honeysuckle fended her off gently. The interest of other clan members made the new mother anxious, however, and she spent considerable energy avoiding their attentions. Whenever Wind-in-the-Eyes came near, Honeysuckle hurried over to one of the adult males and began grooming him nervously. As long as she had the protection of a male companion, she would not get bullied. Wind-in-the-Eyes would settle to watch from a distance, biding her time.
The day finally came when Honeysuckle, busy fishing for termites, didn’t notice that her male escort had wandered off. From the branches of a nearby fig tree, Eve saw Wind-in-the-Eyes approaching and called a warning, but it came too late. Wind-in-the-Eyes charged at Honeysuckle and tried to pull the infant from her arms. Honeysuckle fought with the strength of desperate motherhood while Wind-in-the-Eyes bit and pounded her ruthlessly. Eve dove out of the tree and galloped to the rescue. With one hand clamped on the baby’s leg, Wind-in-the-Eyes rose to meet her attack. Together, Eve and Honeysuckle might have prevailed, but as soon as Eve distracted Wind-in-the-Eyes, Honeysuckle stopped fighting and tried to withdraw. The baby’s piercing cries of distress as it was pulled between them upset Honeysuckle further, and she tried more desperately to pull away. Wind-in-the-Eyes began screaming for help. Her three-year-old, Scoot, bounced over and batted Eve across the back. She ignored him and sank her teeth into the arm Wind-in-the-Eyes flailed at her face.
Digger abruptly crashed out of the bushes and leaped on Eve from behind, raining bruising blows on her head and shoulders. She had no hope of defending herself against the combined assault of two young males. Screaming in pain, she retreated once again into the safety of the branches. With a final wrench, Wind-in-the-Eyes ripped the baby from Honeysuckle’s arms and crushed its skull between her teeth. Shivering, horrified, Eve watched as Wind-in-the-Eyes tore the tiny body apart and shared it with her offspring. She offered a hind limb to Digger, but he turned away. Even he seemed disturbed. Honeysuckle watched in grief-stricken bewilderment.
That night Eve made her nest apart from the others. She dreamed again of the great, shining rainbow serpent. It spoke with the voice of the river, the rustling of leaves, the sighing of the wind. On its back it carried her, high into the shimmering canopy of a blue and silver tree so vast she couldn’t see beginning or end of it. From its branches hung an abundance of strange, delicious fruits that knew no season.
* * *
Wind-in-the-Eyes waited the next morning. She thrust herself between Eve and Honeysuckle, screaming and waving her arms aggressively. Eve appealed to her friend and attempted to get past. Honeysuckle watched listlessly. She made a half-hearted cry of protest. Wind-in-the-Eyes darted back to her, one hand reaching out in a gesture which at times could mean an apology, or a request for food sharing. In this case it was a demand for support. Eve hesitated, shocked and uncertain. Honeysuckle touched the hand of the murderer, then rose and walked away. Satisfied that no one would interfere, Wind-in-the-Eyes pounced on Eve. They rolled together, biting, screaming and pounding, until Eve managed to break away and flee, haunted by the shadow of the Beast in her enemy’s eyes. Bruised and bleeding, she ran until she reached the sanctuary of the river.
* * *
The forest came to an end at last, but the river flowed on. Reluctant to leave the safety of the trees, Eve surveyed the unfamiliar environment of sedge grass and shoreline from the height of a tall palm crowning a nearby ridge. Below, the river divided into many branches, fanning to sustain the glittering canopy of the sea. Eve recognized the shining tree of her dreaming.
* * *
The moon expanded and ebbed, breathing in time with the sea. Eve once again grew accustomed to solitude. When evening cast its mantle over the sea, she climbed the cliffs and found a safe niche amongst the rocks. The ledges and hollows swarmed with nesting seabirds, and she needed to evict a pair of kittiwakes from her chosen spot. She found the eggs delicious. The next night, inspired by the grass and seaweed nests of the gulls, she gathered materials to line and soften her bed. For several weeks she feasted on eggs and young seabirds, until the last of the fledglings took flight. From watching gulls drop mussels on the rocks to break them open, she learned that she could crack shellfish like nuts and eat them. She picked through the rounded rocks beached by the winter tides. Most felt too large and awkward for hammer stones. Some just felt wrong. She had never before realized that stones had their song too, sharp and crystalline, unlike the music of organic life. They tingled with strange vibrations. She found a flat, smooth oval that fit her hand. Its surface felt comforting to the touch and its voice sang in harmony with her purpose. She used it to pry mussels and limpets off the salt-washed basalt, and to smash them open so she could pick out the sweet flesh. By the end of the day Stone felt like a friend. She carried it to her nest and warmed it against her belly as she slept, like brooding an egg.
The need for fresh water kept Eve close to the river delta, but she felt wary of the tall sedge grasses that could hide lurking predators. On the beach she could see danger coming. Where no trees grew, the cliffs offered safety, or, if cornered, she could retreat into the water. She learned to enjoy wading in the shallows and, in the buoyancy of the sea, even learned to swim. Then she no longer needed to wait for low tide before plundering the shellfish colonies. Stone became her constant and only companion, even in the deep water. Without the help of Stone, she could not have separated the mussels from their anchorage. Some days she became distracted and left her tool on the beach at nightfall, but Stone always waited for her in the morning, and she always sought it out before hunting for breakfast.
Eve discovered the ocean held dangers as well as delights. As she sunned herself on the rocks one day, she observed a triangular fin cutting the waves toward a young, surf-riding gull. A sleek grey monster with flat, dead eyes rose in a toothy lunge, then vanished again beneath the surface, taking the gull with it.
Some evenings Eve lay on the soft sand and watched the lights in the sky. In the jungle she could never see more than a few stars at one time, peeking through the foliage. The full expanse of glittering stardust tugged at her spirit. She didn’t question or wonder. She knew no sense of time. She just absorbed the essence and waited.
* * *
Seasons passed and the drought cont
inued. Chill sea mist gave occasional respite from the lack of rain, but many species could not resist the cold. As the jungle thinned out and the uplands grew more and more desiccated, animals flocked to the river valley. Territorial boundaries were violated and ignored, and competition for limited resources became fierce.
The sea remained the same, a constant food source, unlimited by the seasons, easily harvested, rich in protein and minerals. Eve thrived. Her body changed, matured. By the time she blossomed into her first estrus, she had almost forgotten what companionship felt like. She woke one morning with an unidentifiable, overpowering sense of craving. She wandered the beaches restlessly, searching for some way to scratch the hormonal itch. All sorts of interesting flotsam washed ashore in the tides…shells, starfish, driftwood, long streamers of kelp…but nothing held her interest for long. She wanted something, needed something. Her discomfort eventually passed, but when the moon swelled again, so did Eve, and again she searched.
From the Shores of Eden Page 3
