Page 50 of Beautifully Wild

As though in quicksand and further movement will thwart my safety. My heart pounds in recognition.

Samuel takes a few steps toward me, and I do the same.

I want to run to him. Only my thoughts don’t line up.

I want to scream at him for leaving me. Something holds me back.

I’m caught in his gaze, struggling to believe it’s him.

Asoo places a hand on my shoulder to turn around, only something in me fights the delirium and refuses to obey.

Samuel shakes his head, bewildered. “How?” he rasps.

“You left me clues,” I blurt out.

“Eden, stop,” Asoo demands.

I push past him and march through the sand until Samuel’s strong hands grab my shoulders, keeping us an arm’s distance apart. His gaze roams my face, searching, as though answers will magically appear.

Before he speaks, the branches rustle. An oversized headdress catches my attention first. Red and black grass strung high in a semi-circle. One glance, and fear hits me with an unfamiliar world beyond the trees. A long, decorated stick thumps the ground demanding attention. Bones and beads rattle with the force.

“Don’t be frightened,” Samuel says gently and falls to his knees. “Follow my lead,” he whispers, head bowed.

I kneel beside him. “What’s happening?” Samuel doesn’t look up, only stares at the indigenous man’s feet and waits.

“Eden,” Asoo shouts from the boat, its motor revving.

Samuel speaks unrecognizable words and sounds.

Peering over my shoulder, I foolishly wave Asoo on. He throws my backpack onto the sand. “I come back tomorrow,” he shouts.

“Keep your head down,” Samuel instructs.

Long, rough fingers wrap under my chin and tilt my head until I’m forced to look into the eyes of the man before me.

“What do I do?” I whisper.

“Nothing.” Samuel glances at us before lowering his gaze once more.

Dark eyes lock with mine. The aging lines around his eyes deepen as he studies me. White paint slashes each cheek. Beneath each slash are shadows of old tattoos. Thin strands of gray hair fall to his shoulders, camouflaged by the grass and feathers framing his face. He speaks words not intended for me.

Samuel responds, and my chin is set free.

“Follow me.”

The man waits while Samuel leads me to a small A-frame structure made of branches and palm leaves. Samuel glances over his shoulder. I don’t need to look to know we’re being observed. I sense it, along with Samuel’s concern. I take his hips, wanting to pull him close. His hands land on my shoulders, firm enough to keep us apart.

Worry lines crease at the corners of his eyes. “Remain here until I come for you.”

He bends and scoops up his backpack and the package, and walks toward the man. I’m a little stunned as to what’s happened. Yet I can’t pull my gaze from his near-naked body as he walks barefoot over the sand. When he reaches the native American, they disappear into the trees.

I cough after inhaling the smoke from a small fire. Near it is a canopy of dried palm fronds, and it’s high enough not to catch alight. It protects the flame somewhat from the downpour of rain, although the fire smokes as if rain has seeped in. Wood is piled under the cover, so I place another chunk on to burn. Not because I’m cold, but more to warn off insects and other things I don’t want to think about.

The sun is getting low. I have no idea where Samuel has gone and how long I’m to wait here. I remember my backpack and sprint down to the water’s edge to retrieve it. I stare toward the direction Asoo traveled in. There is no sign of him or anyone else. Monkeys howl in the trees above. Insects screech with impending nightfall. I unwrap the wet plastic from my backpack and shake it to rid it of the water.

Under the shelter, there’s a hammock and a log. Then I notice string tied to a stick and fish bones scattered in the dirt. Beside the bones are pieces of dried skin from some type of fruit or vegetable. Through the branches, a vine grows bearing fruit reminding me of passionfruit. Knocking the vines and branches aside, I take a few steps into the overgrowth checking for webs and other creatures living in the trees. After choosing several pieces, I retreat and take a seat on a log under the shelter. There’s a sense of safety here in the clearing where I’m able to observe my surroundings. Splitting the fruit with my nail, I break it in half. The yellow flesh with black seeds is familiar and safe. It’s sweet. With every mouthful, I gaze up into the distance awaiting Samuel’s return.

More time passes.

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