Chapter 3- The Village
They left immediately at first light, and had no problem finding their way, once the rain had stopped. Before long, they could smell the sweet ocean breeze and then they saw the beach. A small hut had been built near the edge of the trees, and a fire was blazing in a bed of rocks. The small group of survivors was happy to see the meat that Zanas brought and they immediately set to deciding how best to cook it.
Zanas took a seat near the fire. Thomas described the night’s episodes relaying the gloomy news of the death of the woman. It seemed sad that no one could recall her name, and that she died on this mysterious island, nameless and unburied. Those in the hut described similar sightings from the sea. They claimed they had never seen so many aquatic creatures, illuminated beneath the waters. None of them had dared to enter into the depths. After the scene from the woods, Zanas was thankful they had not.
The deer like creature had rather tasty meat, and they were all thankful for food in their bellies. After they had finished eating, they decided that Zanas would lead them to the cove so that they could collect water. Some of them had had nothing to drink since the day before.
They followed quietly through the forest as Zanas led them. She kept her ears out for movement in the forest, scanning constantly for any sign of danger ahead. Although the survivors found the forest beautiful, they walked through it solemnly, reminded of the life it had already claimed.
They made it to the crop of flesh eaters, Zanas pointing them out, as they passed them by in silence. It was almost as though they felt that any slightest sound they made would bring the deadly foliage to life, but the plants remained in their still poses. The group ventured farther, until they were within view of the misty waterfall.
The waterfall was just as beautiful as it had been when Zanas had first seen it, the cascading water flowing down the turns of rock. The group let out a collective sigh, water had never looked more inviting, and they rushed out into the serene pool.
Zanas watched as the survivors swam around, a soft laughter echoing back towards her. She could almost believe that she was on vacation, and her parents were just around the corner, perhaps trying to get signals for their electronic devices.
The thought of her parents brought a lump to her throat that she felt unable to swallow. A burning started behind her eyes and she shook her head, there was no room for weakness right now; she had to focus on keeping herself and Asenya alive. Her parents would want that most of all. They had never done anything but try to make sure the girls had the best lives possible. In their memory, Zanas would keep them alive.
She searched for her sister and found Asenya’s eyes staring back at her. Asenya was seated on a rock, her long flowing hair trailing in the water. She was still beautiful, even with her makeup long since washed off, her black dress torn. If anything, the wild look made her seem even more beautiful. Asenya gave her a slight smile, trailing the surface of the water with her hands.
Zanas narrowed her eyes at the forest around her. She heard something. No, she thought, that was not possible. The waterfall was making far too much noise for her to hear anything. But there it was again. She “heard” the soft swishing of a foot stepping through a leafy bush, bare toes squishing in the mud. Zanas concentrated, her brow wrinkling, as she heard others moving almost silently through the forest. She glanced back at the trail leading to the cove and saw them coming, two by two.
They were fierce and tall, their muscular bodies stretching and tensing as they walked. She watched as a woman approached, her hair braided in multiple black ropes, twisting and turning as she moved. They wore very little clothing, the men simply wore a breechcloth, and the women a short, form fitting dress that hung over one shoulder.
The strange woman stood in front of Zanas, wearing a necklace of small bones, and she found herself wondering what animal they had come from. She also found herself staring at the woman’s face, tracing the outline of the tattooed pattern with her eyes. A bow was slung over the woman’s shoulder and she held a small staff in her hand, a razor sharp blade erupting from the top. Zanas could imagine this weapon smashing into its prey. She had never seen such a wild, fierce looking woman.
The woman began to speak a strange language that none of them had ever heard before. They replied by shaking their heads, waiting for the woman to understand that they did not comprehend what she was saying. The woman spoke to her companions for a moment, the rapid purring nature of the words soothing to Zanas’s ears. The natives appeared to come to some sort of conclusion, and the black haired woman, who seemed to be their leader, motioned that they were to follow.
The survivors looked at each other. They were in a strange new world, surrounded by fierce looking warriors with barbaric looking weapons, and they were being told to follow. Where, they did not know, but deep down they all knew that in reality, they had no choice but to comply. Therefore, they matched their steps to those of the warriors.
… … ...
They walked for what seemed like hours, the warriors speaking to each other in their singsong language, like some melody they created together. It became quite clear the leader of this band of a dozen warriors was the woman that had approached her. On closer examination, Zanas decided that “woman” might not be the right title for her, as she appeared to be more of a girl. It seemed odd for such a young person to be in charge of what looked like a group of seasoned warriors. However, there was no misunderstanding the respect and deference the men showed the warrior girl.
Zanas realized they were all somewhat young for a group that was obviously some kind of war party. Each one carried at least one weapon. One young man carried a club with jagged thorns that jutted out of it. Another red headed girl carried two curved blades that extended both in front and behind her hands, a wooden handle placed for grip. Zanas could imagine this blade being thrust into an oncoming enemy, and then pulled out to sink into an opponent behind.
She found herself captivated by the tattoos that lined the warrior’s faces, swooping gracefully on one side, and trailing down their bodies like a path of ink. The tattoos seemed to shimmer, a light glow in the green of the forest.
They hiked even deeper into the jungle; the air was thick with moist, hot air. Zanas had long since torn off the sleeves of her sweater and she yearned for even less clothing. It was quiet, except for the haunting cries of the birds that seemed forever to be calling. She reached forward and pushed a long green leaf out of her way, and caught sight of a small pond. The water was clear, and after a long hike, looked very refreshing.
Zanas watched as Thomas rushed forward, walking a few feet into the pond, gathering a handful of water into his hands. The teenager with the club stepped forward and motioned aggressively. Thomas, in young pride, shoved at the boy, not understanding what he was saying. Zanas tensed as she watched the young warrior. It might be easy to dismiss this young looking boy, if you did not know what to look for. He was extremely well toned, with defined muscles that expressed years of high aerobics. She noticed the sure way he held his weapon, and realized he was very good with it. Zanas finally noticed the cold look in his eyes that expressed the depths of a soul that it had taken a life. This boy was a killer, and he could finish Thomas in a second.
Then the tension was gone. The boy shrugged, a knowing smile on his lips, and stepped aside. Zanas continued to watch the boy as he went to stand by the small girl with the knives and a crooked nosed teen. He said something to these two and they laughed, the small girl watching Thomas with menacing eyes. There was something in the way that she looked that seemed predatory to Zanas. But there was something else as well. Zanas concentrated for a moment. She was waiting.
Zanas heard the scream next, turning to see the long tentacle arms of a serpent pluck Thomas from the bank. He screamed again as he was lifted high in the air, and then he was slammed head first into the water, a large spray of liquid hitting those on the bank. The water was still, no longer any movement. Zanas stepped forward, a mome
nt of confusion sweeping over her. The tiny red head stepped in front of her and shook her head, pointing to the water, and making a cutting motion across her neck, her beautiful eyes cold. Zanas understood her meaning perfectly, Thomas was dead already.
It was not long after that when they came to a more worn trail. Zanas could tell that it was used often and by many people. She could hear the sound of life up ahead and recognized there was some sort of village. As they came into a dense part of the forest, she noticed trees, just like the one they had sheltered in, hollowed out to make homes. The trees were enormous, and carved out they made a good-sized dwelling. Zanas noticed that they had tunneled right up through the center of the trees to serve as chimneys for their fires. There were people all around, staring out of the green of the jungle.
They stood in their doorways, small squares cut into the trees that they covered with skin. The pathways were worn bare in between the trees, making it seem like a paved city. They continued down a path and erupted into a cleared central area. Zanas stared up and looked at the blue sky as she came into its presence. This must be where they gathered, a lone tree dwelling sat in the center of the clearing. They walked up to the front, and the black haired leader called something in her language. There was silence for a moment, and then a feminine voice responded. The skin was whisked aside, and a bent old woman stared at them, a toothless smile on her face.
Zanas followed the woman into her dwelling with the rest of the party. They sat around a huge fire, on the skins of animals she did not recognize. They were soon offered bowls of a wonderful smelling stew, that Zanas happily accepted, doubting they would bring her all this way just to poison her. The meat was gamey but with a wonderful roasted taste, mixed with roots and some kind of grain that easily mashed when chewed. She noticed a slight sheen to the roots, a slight glow.
A pair of dark haired girls walked in, carrying a large bowl. They placed it before the old woman and she peered over the high ridge, staring deep inside it. The girls handed her a cup, and she dipped it in the bowl, bringing it to her mouth and drinking.
Zanas observed the crowd. The girls took turns carrying the bowl around to each of the warriors. Zanas watched as they all stared into the bowl and then drank from it. The bowl was brought to her next. The warriors had been chatting among themselves, with an occasional comment by the old woman. As they lowered the bowl in front of her, the room became silent, the warriors watching. Zanas leaned forward and stared into the glowing mist.
She expected to see only liquid, but instead, turned her eyes to a sea of opulence. The bubbling mixture, swirled around the bowl, like a serpent awaiting release. The sweet smell of the liquid made her mouth start to water, and she lowered the cup into the bowl, lifting it to her lips. She took one last look at the warriors and their shaman, meeting the eyes of petite red haired warrior. A look was echoed in each of their eyes. They challenged her to drink the mixture. And Zanas was never one to shrink from a challenge. She tipped the cup back, drinking it until the last drop.
The liquid burned a trail down her throat, slithering down the inside of her like the opulent snake it resembled. She felt the substance traveling through her body, searing through her blood, and out towards her extremities. Finally, the burning began to subside, leaving an icy cold behind.
The bowl was picked up and placed in front of her sister, and she too swallowed the liquid. The other survivors quietly refused, and were met with sneers from the warriors, who immediately got up and exited the tree. Zanas realized when they lifted the flap that it was beginning to get dark, as she caught a glimpse of the night sky. As she turned to look at her sister, Zanas saw a trail of light as her head moved. Asenya stood near the old woman and the dark haired sisters, speaking softly, her lips moving rapidly. Zanas stood up to walk to her and found herself suddenly dizzy. She needed air, she thought as she stumbled out of the flap, and into the night.
A fire was burning in the clearing and natives were gathered all around it. She stumbled toward the fire, bumping into people along the way. A few turned to look at her, their faces elongated and blurry. A deep reverberating drumming echoed in the night. Every beat pounded onto the drums, was like a pounding in her soul.
She had never experienced such dancing; there was no awareness, solely her and the beating of the drums. She felt the crowd of people around her, yet they did not exist. The pounding of her steps mimicked the pounding of her flying feet through the forest. Zanas opened her eyes and looked at the starlit sky, as it winked back at her. Breathing in the cool night air, she felt a bursting inside her, somewhere deep inside her spine. As though she had been chained for all her life, and at that very moment, those chains were cut.
The voices around her rose as one, hers joined with them.
“Oh great Alwahi, hear our cries. Oh great Alwahi, we are yours…”