by Archer Swift
***
I floated through the thick undergrowth, entirely lost in thought. While I usually pondered as I walked, I always remained vigilant, every sense active. Listening, looking, smelling … even tasting when necessary.
This was different. Now it was almost as though I didn’t care if they were tracking us, or if a Raptor was swooping overhead. Of course, I did. But the harsh cruelty of the jungle seemed devoid of power and menace. I could not remember ever feeling so weirdly ebullient. Confusion spiked with wonder. I had burned through my rage over Ruzzell’s demented tomfoolery, and was left with the bamboozling thrill of what Nadalie revealed.
I ran through yesterday. I only tried to protect Gellica for one reason: to stand up for her against a bully. Or was it the only reason? I would have done that for Nadalie, Jordi, anyone … yes, even Ruzzell, if he was the victim.
Actually, right now, I’d like to see Ruzzell the victim for once.
I wasn’t entitled to any undue gratitude. Nor did I seek it. I simply did my part around camp, and what I could for the good of the clan. We all did this, didn’t we?
Why did Gellica give me her mother’s pendant? What does a promise mean? Does she really prefer me to Judd? Why do I feel so awkward around her? What the heck did Nadalie mean, exactly?
I had only received a gift from someone other than my parents on one occasion. From my first love … my only love. At least, I think it was love.
Monix.
I met Monix Voclain four years ago at the Gathering of the Clans. I spoke to her for a total of about ten minutes. Yet in those amazing six hundred beats of my adrenalin-spiked heart, I thought it would explode. Unfortunately, it was the only time we had together; her clan had to leave. She was from the northern-most clan.
I had just turned fourteen at the time; she was one year younger.
She gave me a grass wristband she had woven.
She said she would think of me every day, and see me at the next anniversary.
I don’t think I got too many words out at that point. I do remember being hopelessly giddy.
Geez, looking back, I was an absolute goner. Sad, really.
Her eyes, her captivating eyes were like deep pools of blue ocean, alive with energy. Mesmerising. She was on my mind every single day for a year. Her beautiful face, golden blonde hair, high cheekbones, smooth skin … gorgeous. And those eyes … the memory of those enchanting eyes seemed emblazoned in my heart and mind. Throughout that year, the thought of her squeezed me on the inside in the most wonderful way, and soothed my troubled soul, keeping the nightmares at bay.
I remember the jubilation, the thrill; the expectation that carried me to the Gathering of the Clans that next year.
But she wasn’t there. I couldn’t find her.
Eventually, I coughed up the courage to ask her clan leader where she was.
Them.
They took her.
About three moons after we shared our magical ten-minute tryst, they plucked her from her tree. And no one heard a sound. No one ever hears a sound.
Man, I hate them.
The only thing she left behind was a name carved into the bark of her tree. Six letters.
My name.
That day, the last bit of my heart died.
I thought I was dead inside when my Dad passed away, but meeting her had awakened something in me. Deep down. A sense of hope. The thought of love … of sharing this miserable life with another.
The news of her disappearance brought Death to roost in me once more; its long, bony fingers wrapped tightly around my soul, its sharp, crooked fingernails clawing into my core. I felt like a walking corpse. I had nothing to remember her by. The wristband withered away like my slim chance of happiness.
After several days of bellyaching and mourning, I chose to throw myself into serving the clan, protecting our members from them, from any threat. I was sure I always wanted to serve, to protect, to be like my father. But that day, I think I died to ever having any joy of my own.
It’s not about me.
Now, Gellica’s gift stirred things in my heart I thought were dead, dead, dead. In fact, I felt a tingling sensation all over. Hope. I was just about to rehearse Dad’s song in my head when…
“Watch it!” Dixan’s voice snapped me out of my spell, but I heard his warning too late. I crashed into a hole, and bumped my head hard. Dazed and grazed, I took a minute to pull myself together.
“Are you okay?” Dixan looked nearly as puzzled as I was. Cocking his brow, he gave a low whistle. “You walked straight into it, bro. You! Mister-Hear-Everything-See-Everything!”
I rubbed my sore head, the bump compounded by the beating I took yesterday.
Dixan, still grinning, his teeth pearly white against his dark-skinned handsome face, offered me his hand. I took it gratefully and with his help, I escaped the confines of the hole. “Glad to amuse you,” I chuckled noticing that he couldn’t extinguish the ear-to-ear beam on his mug.
“Bro,” his head bounced on his sturdy shoulders, “I’ve just never seen you make a mistake before … ever!”
“What do you call rumbling with Ruzzell yesterday then?” I played along.
“Courage!”
The light-heartedness abruptly stopped; an emotive silence suddenly befell us. Trapping my breath in my throat; catching the thoughts in my head.
Huh?
Looking straight into my eyes, for a bewildering moment I thought Dixan might cry. “Thank you, bro,” he said, chuffing out the words.
“Pardon?” I thought I must be in some self-indulgent dream.
“Thank you for your courage, Risto.” His head lolled on his shoulders and his bottom lip quivered slightly. “Most the time, I’m so terrified. Truth, bro. Every second of every bleeding day … and then … then I look at you, and the fear, it goes.”
“Really…?” Clearly, I was not good at handling compliments. I had never received any until now. “I’m scared too, Dix.”
“I know, but … but Risto, you don’t let it, like, control you or change you.”
The awkwardness was too much for me to bear. “Cheers, Dix … thank you for helping me out the hole.” I put my hand on his shoulder momentarily and then pointed in the direction we needed to head. “Come, let’s go … we need to make up some lost time.”
