Arrow

by Samantha M. Clark

  Arrow’s heart tapped, tapped, tapped at the sight of so many creatures who were like him. Big, small, muscled, skinny, with skin in all different shades from as dark as coffee seeds roasted in the sun to as light as the flowers left in the coffee tree’s leaves. They had black hair and brown hair and yellow hair and red. They were tall and short, young and older.

  For Arrow, these were the first humans who looked more like him. His age. And he couldn’t look away.

  He watched as they explored the buildings. He watched closer as they pulled items out of containers and carts. He watched even closer as they unwrapped packages and laughed.

  With each laugh, Arrow’s heart beat faster. As they kicked a ball, his toes twitched. When they shouted and screamed and pranced, he huddled behind the branch—but his eyes stayed on them all. Especially the girl, Petari, the closest one to his size.

  And when the sun was about to set and Curly was tugging, tugging, tugging at his sleeve to go back home, he resisted for just a few breaths longer. He watched as Luco and Storma gathered the herd into a circle and handed out food.

  Sadness flowed from him then, and I knew what he was thinking. How it reminded him of seeing Curly and her brothers and sisters when their parents would give them food. When he’d seen the older sloths sit with their babies. Even the birds, feeding their children in their nests. He had been a part of their circles but always outside, too.

  Now the forest held humans like him, but he couldn’t be with them, either. It was humans who had abandoned him at the curtain in the north. Maybe not these particular ones, but they were all the same. They were just like the Imposters from rings ago, and we couldn’t trust that they wouldn’t destroy us.

  I had to make sure Arrow understood.

  6

  WEST OF THE RIVER, THE ROOTS OF TWO BOUGAINVILLEA BUSHES SOAKED UP WHAT THE SOIL WAS DELIVERING, THEN WITHERED AND BROWNED. THE BUSH WILTED, ITS PETALS FALLING TO THE GROUND, SCATTERING THE FEEDING BUTTERFLIES.

  Arrow was filled with questions that evening. His feet carved a path in the earth around me, excitement seeping into the soil.

  But his feelings met urgency in my roots.

  “We must make a plan,” I said, but Arrow wasn’t paying attention to me. He acted like my words were butterflies, flitting away.

  “There are so many of the humans,” he said. “And they’ve got so many things. Do you think they’re going to stay at the village? They’re going to live there?”

  Arrow’s emotions spun around him, happy, scared, sad, excited. It made it difficult to tell how he felt about this invasion. Curly was anxious. She paced behind Arrow, stopped, groomed, paced.

  Curly was a mirror of the rest of the forest. The root network was abuzz with jitters about a return from the Kiskadee Man. I had already passed nutrients to help dying trees. And now this.…

  “It does look like they plan to live there,” I told Arrow. “It will be hard to get rid of the humans now. The forest has been found. We must do whatever we can to protect it.”

  “They haven’t come any farther into the forest,” Arrow said. “Maybe they won’t harm anything.”

  “They are like the Imposters.” I could hear the bitterness in my own words. “They will push and push and push, until they’ve made it all their own.”

  Arrow slowed for a breath, then picked up his pacing again. “I’ll make sure they don’t come any farther south. The river is wide there.”

  “Yes, but the bridge is—”

  “I know. It’s overgrown there, but I’ll make sure they don’t find it. And when we mend the Anima, you can move the curtain to just before the bridge, so they’ll never come south of the river.”

  “That would sacrifice some of the forest.” I hated to do that.

  “Yes, that’s sad. But it means the humans will never know we’re here.” He patted my trunk. “All this thinking has made me hungry.”

  As he and Curly collected berries and nuts, Arrow continued to talk about the humans.

  “They were so loud for humans so small.”

  “What was that stuff they were eating?”

  “Do you think they like acai berries?”

  “Do you think they like the forest? Of course they like it.”

  “Do you think they play a lot of games?”

  “Do you think they like strangers?”

  That last question slipped over his tongue as though it had escaped. This was his quandary: his head knew he had to keep the humans out, but his heart wanted to be accepted by them.

  The shadows grew thick, and Arrow and Curly climbed to their nest and lay down, but it was a long time before sleep slowed Arrow’s breathing. When it finally took him, the boy tossed and turned while the moon crawled across the sky. I hoped his nightmares weren’t too terrifying.

  He was quiet the next morning, too, sliding out of my branches with barely a word.

  “Remember,” I shouted after him, “don’t let them see you.”

  “I know,” he called back, but I could feel the unrest in every footstep.

  When Arrow and Curly got to the abandoned village, they first went to the hidden branch in the tree, the outlook from where they could see the human herd below. The young humans had stuck together, sleeping in clumps within one of the bigger structures. They had dragged most of their belongings into huts as well. So when Arrow and Curly crouched on the branch, they couldn’t see any of the humans, just the small items they had left scattered on the ground outside.

  “Did they leave?” Arrow whispered. Curly tutted back, and Arrow nodded. “Yeah, the Guardian would’ve said. If they’re in the huts, I can go down and get a look at those things they left out.”

  He grinned and started down the trunk. No. Bad idea. Curly must’ve thought the same. She screeched and pulled Arrow’s arm back up.

  “I’ll only be a few breaths,” he said, pulling out of Curly’s reach.

  I wished the village weren’t so far that Arrow couldn’t hear my words. I liked that the boy was brave, but bravery comes with a price. He took too many chances, just like he had with the Kiskadee Man. But this time, there were more humans, and they wouldn’t be whisked away by a flying bullfrog.

  A swarm of bees sent me images: Arrow weaving through trunks to the edge of the clearing. Arrow watching, careful, then stepping onto the grass. Arrow stealing to the side of a hut, pausing, peering, then creeping nearer. He crouched low, examining something I could not see. I asked the bees to move closer.

  Around the hut, the herd had placed a shiny vine of some sort of metal. It wove up the stairs, across the bottom of the door, then back down to the ground, where it connected with what looked like a thin metal trunk covered in scraps. They seemed to be parts of the tools the Imposters had used to eat: spoons, forks, and blunt knives. Arrow reached up to touch the vine, and I stilled my leaves. Careful! Careful! His finger gently pulled it—and a TINK rang out. Then another. And another! The momentum Arrow had started migrated along the vine to the metal trunk and onto the scraps, causing them to swing and hit each other with loud noises.

  Arrow put his palm against the vine, trying to stop the sound, but that made it worse.

  DING.

  TINK.

  TING.

  Suddenly he tensed. He dove under the fern leaves nearby just as a head poked out of the hole in the hut’s wall. Luco glanced around, stretching his neck to see what had disturbed the vine. Storma’s head appeared next to his. They exchanged words, but none came to me. After the tools had silenced, Luco shook his head, then he and Storma ducked back into the hut.

  Arrow’s heartbeat raced against the soil. He had almost been caught by their trap. He watched and watched, but there was no more movement. I hoped he understood the danger he had put himself in. I hoped he would flee back to Curly, back to safety.

  But when he emerged from under the fern leaves, Arrow didn’t turn back. His curiosity had taken over. His feet carried him into the clearing. Keeping an eye on the herd’s hut,
Arrow hurried to one of the metal carts that had been filled with containers during their journey the day before. Now it sat empty, discarded on a patch of soil.

  Arrow stood a few steps away from it, eyeing the box and wheels it sat upon. I’d seen carts with wheels like this a long time ago, in one of the Imposter camps before the Forest Dwellers were pushed out, before I hid the forest. But it was new to Arrow.

  Cautiously he stepped closer, then closer, reaching out the fingertips of his right hand to touch its surface. Satisfied that it was safe, he moved next to the cart and pushed it back and forth.

  There was a squeak, and he froze. He glanced at the huts.

  Was there movement in the structures? It was too difficult to tell with their floors raised off the ground. Arrow was so close to where the humans slept now. Even though I knew he could be quiet, he was in the open and could easily be seen.

  Arrow must’ve felt comfortable, because he continued to inspect the cart. Then he turned to the other items the herders had left on the ground: metal tubes, containers that glinted in the sun. Arrow got lost in these foreign wares, and when the sky opened and rain pelted down, he paid it no mind.

  Until the scream.

  It came from inside the biggest structure. One scream, then another, then shouts. The humans were awake. And scared.

  Run, Arrow!

  He couldn’t hear my words, but he knew. He ran for the trees, but he was so close to the huts. His legs wouldn’t be fast enough. He was going to be seen!

  The door flung open, pushing aside the metal vine with a TINK, TING, DING, and the herd streamed outside.

  Arrow scrambled away, but he was still far from the tree. Far from safety.

  Suddenly he changed direction. No, Arrow! What are you doing? He threw himself onto the ground, right in the middle of a patch of tall grasses. Ahh, smart boy. The grasses would hide him.

  As long as the humans didn’t get close.

  But they weren’t paying attention to him. They were shouting and jumping and twirling. Arrow was right—they held so much noise in those small bodies.

  “It’s raining!” Petari screamed. She opened her mouth to let the water run onto her tongue. “It’s raining!”

  “It was so loud in there.” Val glanced between the structure and the sky.

  “I thought someone was shooting at us.” Luco gave a shaky laugh. He lifted his arms, welcoming the water. “I’ve never heard rain on a roof before.”

  “I can’t even remember the last time I saw any rain.” Storma peered at the sky, the drops drenching her face.

  “We need to collect it,” Mercou said, picking a metal tube off the ground and holding it up.

  Arrow stayed still, watching, frowning. Confusion soaked onto the ground beneath him, but he used their distraction to his advantage. With eyes on the herd, he crawled backward, his knees and elbows digging into the dirt as he stayed hidden in the grasses. His pulse thump, thump, thumped into the soil.

  A short human shouted, “Woo-hoo!” and Arrow froze.

  But none of their eyes were on him. Their attention was still on the rain. The drops hitting their noses, plinking onto the huts, splashing into the mud.

  Arrow crawled and crawled and crawled. Finally he was within bushes, hidden enough to run back toward the tree. Far in the forest, my roots began to relax.

  Curly scurried down the trunk and slapped Arrow’s hand for going out there, but Arrow didn’t care.

  “Did you see how they were acting? Why are they so excited about some rain?”

  The monkey shrugged, then pointed at the river.

  Arrow nodded. “Oh yeah. Let’s get to work while they’re busy looking up at the sky.”

  As the herd cheered and danced and played under the raindrops, Curly kept watch from beneath the long leaves of a fern. Arrow gathered leaves that had fallen from some of the palm trees close by. Just like in so many other places in the forest, more leaves than normal littered the ground. I pushed away my worry; the bigger harvest meant Arrow had plenty to use. Carefully and quietly, he placed them within the bushes and between the trunks, thickening the trees to the south of the village. From far away, the tree line already looked dark, but we couldn’t chance one of the humans catching a glimpse of something if they got close. We had to make sure they wouldn’t be tempted to explore farther.

  Arrow worked quickly, but it was a big task. Too soon, the rain stopped, and he no longer had the sound or distraction as cover. He slowed, listened. The humans were still laughing and talking, but none were near him. He continued to place branches, stopping when Curly made a warning noise, then starting again when he was sure he wouldn’t be seen.

  Finally all the downed palm leaves and branches were propped up, thickening the brush. It wasn’t as good a mask as a magical curtain of rock, but it was hopefully enough to keep away humans who got distracted when water fell from the sky. Arrow ran through more bushes, east, west, east, west, until he finally returned to the tree line. I couldn’t tell what he was doing, but I trusted it would keep the humans out.

  After a quick check of his work, Arrow grinned at Curly. The monkey nodded then led Arrow back in my direction and away from the village. The job was done, and they had not been seen. Good. With any luck, the boy’s work had given us enough time to fix the magic and go back into hiding before the humans decided to venture farther south.

  Arrow followed Curly toward the river, until his feet stopped walking. His footsteps turned back to the village. Arrow stepped, stepped, stepped…

  What was he doing? Why was he going back?

  Curly must’ve not realized at first. She hurried in my direction for many breaths before turning back toward Arrow.

  I reached out to the bees, asked them to send me the sounds and images of the village. At once I knew what the magnet was. A sound neither Arrow nor Curly would recognize.

  A sound that hadn’t echoed within the forest for close to twelve rings.

  7

  SOUTH OF THE ABANDONED VILLAGE, A LONG PALM FROM A BARRIGONA TURNED BROWN, DROPPED, AND CRASHED TO THE RAINFOREST FLOOR. FOLLOWED BY ANOTHER, THEN ANOTHER, UNTIL THE TREE WAS ALMOST BARE.

  “What’s that noise, Curly?” Arrow whispered, as the monkey pawed at the boy’s leg to keep him walking. “It’s not any animal I’ve heard before.”

  Curly shook her head at Arrow, anticipating the boy’s thoughts.

  “Just a peek,” Arrow said. “Aren’t you a little bit curious?”

  Curly shook her head harder, pointing back toward the deep of the forest. Back toward me. But Arrow grinned.

  “One look, then we’ll go home.”

  That was what I had been afraid of.

  Arrow ran on light feet past the trees and bushes he’d thickened. Curly followed but kept her distance. At the far end, where the trunks thinned, Arrow crawled behind a heliconia bush, beckoning for Curly to join him. She glared his way but finally skittered beneath the leaves as well.

  They were close to the biggest structure in the village, where the herd had chosen to sleep. The humans were beyond it, in the open field in the middle of the huts, most of which Arrow and Curly could see from their hiding spot.

  “I don’t hear the noise anymore, but I was sure it was coming from this direction,” Arrow whispered. The monkey frowned.

  They watched as the humans ran and laughed and shrieked. One was the aggressor, chasing the others, reaching with toes dug into the ground to increase his length. The others chanted and jeered as they curved their torsos so that they were just out of his grasp.

  “They’re playing catch like we do with your brothers and sisters.” Arrow smiled.

  Curly motioned to her mouth.

  “Yeah, I don’t see one with food. Maybe they play differently.” His head tilted. “There! It’s the noise again. Where is it coming from?”

  His eyes stopped on each of the humans. But it wasn’t coming from any of the ones he could see. It was closer to where he and Curly were hiding. It wa
s coming from the big hut, where the humans had slept.

  Arrow stiffened, craned his neck to see the source, but the humans who were chasing one another didn’t slow down. They continued their shouts and jeers and laughter.

  Not all of the herd was there, though. Petari was missing. Had she made her way south and I’d missed it? No, another noise pounded from inside the structure, feet striding across the wooden floor.

  Arrow pulled back, Curly tucking herself under his arm.

  The pounding got to the door, and Petari emerged, a crying bundle in her arms.

  “Hey,” she called, “isn’t someone going to help?”

  There was no response. The other humans were enjoying their game.

  Petari sat on the top step and lifted the bundle in front of her face.

  Arrow gasped. Curly pinched his arm. He waved her warning away but placed his hand over his mouth to show he wouldn’t make noise. Then he leaned in closer to the monkey’s ear and whispered, “It’s a baby.”

  He had seen plenty of babies in his life—monkey babies, sloth babies, capybara babies—but this was the first time he was seeing a human baby. The first time he was seeing how small he’d once been.

  “Guys!” Petari shouted. “We’ve got to do something about Ruthie. She’s really hot.”

  A boy with eyes as soft as a sloth’s left the herd and walked up then, a frown planted on his face.

  “Does she have a fever?” the boy asked.

  Petari nodded. “Feel her.” She held the baby toward him. “I’m worried, Rosaman.”

  The boy, Rosaman, put his hand onto the baby’s forehead, and his frown deepened.

  “Luco,” he called out, and the older male looked over. “We’ve got to get her some medicine.”

  Luco picked himself up off the ground and strode over. “We’re out.”

  “I haven’t seen anything in raids for a while,” Storma said from where she sat on the grass, pulling what looked like tools out of some sort of sky-colored carrying hammock. “You were with me in the last raid, Ros. You know.”