Chương 6: B1 Chapter 5

Makua and the others looked at me in shock.

"E'ru, you did this?" Makua asked.

"How?"

"The gods were on my side," I replied. Timoteo walked over to the caiman and crouched beside it. He examined the snare around its rear leg, the cord binding its jaws, and the wound where my knife had entered behind its skull.

"This was a good kill," he said.

"The gods truly did offer you something tonight." He looked toward the other animals hanging from the branch.

"You're going to need help bringing all of this back." I nodded toward the broken sky above us.

"Do you know what's happening?"

"No," Timoteo answered.

"The sky's broken, E'ru."

"The prophets might know," I said.

"Eyowon's probably waiting for us to return. We should go back to the village and find answers."

"Maybe it's a good sign. Maybe it's a bad sign," Makua said, glancing uneasily toward the lights beyond the canopy.

"I don't know. I'm no prophet." He turned toward the others.

"Joa, Hokan, Timoteo, carry E'ru's spoils. I'll carry our brother so we can travel faster." I looked toward the torch one of them carried. The thought of being carried through the night while my brothers carried the food I'd provided brought warmth to my chest. Sometimes, I felt so alone. We fought, argued, and mocked one another, but I knew they respected me as I respected them. We were family, and Makua had called me his brother. I didn't know how to take it.

He'd never once in our entire lives spoken to me with such humility. Makua usually began with an insult before struggling his way toward something resembling a compliment, which was usually so backhanded that I could feel both sides of it. Something was wrong, and we all knew it. I didn't argue. Makua came over and lowered himself in front of me. I climbed onto his back, wrapping my arms around his shoulders as he hooked his hands beneath my legs. The others gathered my kills, dividing the weight among themselves.

Timoteo and Hokan took the caiman while Joa carried the animals from my sling. The fat iguana still hung farther along the trail.

"We need to stop at my fourth snare," I told them.

"There's more." Makua looked back at me.

"There's more?"

"A fat iguana." He shook his head.

"Of course there is." That sounded more like him. I held the torch above Makua's head as they set off. They moved with far more haste than I could've managed alone, though they did so with much less care. I'd picked my way through the jungle slowly, testing each root and branch before placing my feet, listening for every shift in the undergrowth. My brothers had no patience for that now.

They crashed through the forest in a loose line, ducking beneath branches only when they were too low to avoid, shoving aside curtains of vines, and stepping over roots without pausing to judge whether the mud beneath them would hold. Makua carried me as though my weight were nothing, his stride long and powerful. Each time his foot sank into the wet earth, his shoulders rolled beneath my arms, but he never slowed. The jungle pressed close around us.

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. Towering trees rose into the darkness, their trunks slick with moisture and wrapped in strangling vines. Broad leaves slapped against our faces and shoulders as we passed. Ferns crowded the trail, their fronds heavy with rain, and droplets scattered over us whenever someone brushed against them.

The ground was uneven and treacherous, broken by exposed roots, shallow gullies, and patches of black mud that sucked at the hunters' feet. The torchlight leaped across the vegetation, revealing pale mushrooms on fallen logs, beetles clinging to bark, and the gleam of water pooled between roots. Beyond the reach of the flame, the jungle remained a wall of shadow. Every few steps, something rustled in the undergrowth, but none of us stopped to investigate.

I kept the torch raised above Makua's head, trying to light the path ahead. The flame bent and fluttered whenever we pushed through the thicker growth. Smoke stung my eyes, and its heat warmed one side of my face while the damp jungle chilled the other.

"Slow down," I warned as Makua charged through a curtain of vines.

"If I slow down, you'll complain that we're taking too long," he replied.

"I'd complain if you dropped me."

"Then hold on." A moment later, he leapt across a narrow washout in the trail. My stomach lurched, and my arms tightened around his neck. Behind us, Hokan landed heavily on the opposite side, nearly losing his grip on the caiman. Timoteo caught the animal before it struck the ground, and Joa laughed under his breath.

"Careful," I said.

"We're being careful," Timoteo answered. He said it while pushing through a thorn bush without looking. The thorns caught his shoulder and tore at his skin, but he kept moving. The others followed, stumbling and swearing as they forced their way through. They weren't moving as I had earlier, when every step had been chosen and every sound measured.

They were moving like hunters who knew the jungle well enough to trust their bodies, relying on speed, strength, and one another to overcome whatever the forest placed in their way. It was reckless. It was also much faster than anything I could've done alone. I'd spent hours reaching the snares, crawling beneath branches, circling patches of mud, and stopping whenever the jungle seemed to shift around me. Now my brothers carried me and my kills through the same terrain in a fraction of the time.

They broke the trail open as they went, making enough noise to frighten away anything that might've been waiting in the dark. The forest seemed to recoil from us. We stopped long enough to retrieve the iguana, and Joa stared at it before looking toward me with disbelief.

"You did all of this before sunrise?"

"The snares did most of it," I replied.

"You made the snares," Timoteo reminded me. Makua adjusted my weight against his back.

"Save your praise until we return. His head's already large enough." I smiled and held the torch higher. They set off again, even faster now that the last of the spoils had been collected. The caiman swung between Timoteo and Hokan, its body bumping against their legs as they hurried along. Joa carried the iguana beneath one arm and the smaller animals in the other hand. Makua kept to the center of the trail, using his shoulders to force aside the vegetation while I clung to him.

The path narrowed as it climbed over a ridge of roots. Makua placed one foot on a fallen trunk and hauled himself up the slope. The bark was slick, and his heel slipped, but Hokan caught the back of his arm before he fell. Neither of them stopped. They pulled one another forward, laughing breathlessly as they scrambled over the ridge and plunged down the other side. Below us, a stream cut across the trail. It was swollen from the recent rain, rushing brown and fast between stones.

I'd crossed it earlier by stepping from rock to rock, taking time to find the safest route. Makua didn't even look for one. He waded straight in, water surging around his thighs, while the others followed with the animals held above their heads. The current pushed hard against them. Makua leaned forward and tightened his grip beneath my legs. Cold water splashed over my feet and soaked the lower half of his body, but he kept moving until he reached the opposite bank.

Timoteo slipped behind him, and the caiman nearly fell into the stream. Hokan seized it by the tail, and the three of them hauled it free together.

"Still careful?" I asked.

"Very," Timoteo said, spitting water. The village came into view sooner than I expected. Chaos filled it. The early morning was usually busy, with fires being tended, children waking, and families preparing for the day. This was something else. The dogs had fallen silent. The chickens had as well. Even the insects surrounding the village had gone still. Only the voices of the tribe remained, frantic and disordered as people moved between the huts. Some stared toward the broken sky.

Others argued over whether the lights were a blessing or a warning. No one seemed to know what to do or who might've offended the gods enough to draw their attention. I knew with certainty that the gods were responsible. I'd seen their words and endured their test, even if I hadn't looked closely enough to understand what they wanted. As we entered the center of the village, my father stood among several elders. He turned at the sound of our arrival, and relief passed across his face when he saw me on Makua's back.

"Ah, you brought him home. Good." His attention shifted toward the animals my brothers carried, and his eyes widened when he saw the caiman.

"I see your hunt was successful, my son. That is a good sign at least."

"The gods were with him," Timoteo said.

"E'ru killed a caiman." My father looked at me for a long moment. Pride softened his face, though worry remained beneath it.

"We need to understand what's happening yet," he said.

"We're waiting for Eyowon to come out of her hut. She's divining now, communicating with the gods and reading the words that'll tell us what to do."