Page 52 of Beautifully Wild

The warrior remains silent, a strange word to them. Their world knows only personal growth, along with survival and acceptance, mostly coming to peace with your inner emotion and thoughts. Her isolation is a health and safety measure and a test. One Eden was unprepared for.

Her safety is what matters.

Samuel nods to dismiss the young warrior before returning to the young girl’s side.

On first arriving in the village, Samuel learned his social status. His family’s wealth and expensive college education were insignificant to the people and useless as a means of survival.

Eden will also learn her place.

Time isn’t regarded here in the same way it is in the outside world. There are no clocks—only the sun and moon to guide hours, days, and years. Yet the tick-tock of the clock fills Samuel’s head with how much time he can spend with Eden.

Never has he expected any woman to live the way he has chosen. His gut tightens fighting desire- fueled thoughts, threatening all logic. Edencan’tbe here. Yet his imagination fills with hope of her staying longer than a few days.

Gathering his thoughts, he checks the niece once more before taking a mat near the far wall to get a few hours’ sleep.

A whimper wakes him, and shards of sunlight streak through the trees.

The young girl is sitting, holding her stomach. Her mother stands outside the hut, her dark brown eyes plead to his. He nods for her to enter and stand at her daughter’s side. The niece indicates she’s hungry. Samuel smiles. He was told for many days she has suffered and not eaten. Last night was the second seizure. After administering an antispasmodic medication, he suspects the worst is over, and their indigenous medicine can replenish her energy.

He tells the mother she’s to remain here for another day. The mother can feed her tea andoo—cassava bread made from yuca—and remain by her side. He points out the wooden bowl of water for her hands.

Samuel leaves them alone and makes his way to a nearby stream to wash before visiting the shaman and chief. It will give him time to consider his words when asking the chief to grant Eden a longer stay.

He doesn’t want to think about the alternative and if he’s refused permission to see her again.

27

Eden

Irollontomyside, curl into a ball, and continue dreaming. Only this morning a slight roll causes the bed to sway beneath me. I jerk up remembering where I am. In the process, I tangle my arms and legs in the mosquito net wrapped around me. Alerted to buzzing above, I kick harder to untangle myself, forcing my eyes open and to focus.

“Oomph. Oh, for God’s sake,” I say when I land on the ground. I bounce back up onto my feet, shove the net aside, and look around me for anything crawling at my feet.

Rubbing my eyes, I groan and stretch out the kinks in my back. I had more energy and got more sleep after a hard night of partying than I did last night. Stumbling across the sand, I head to the river, scoop handfuls of water and wash my face. I stand and search the river bend for any signs of life. I’m grateful for the absence of movement in the river in the form ofcaiman, a smaller alligator found in these parts because that would send me over the edge.

Birds squawk high in the trees, and the monkeys squeal. I quickly glance over my shoulder to the vines and strangler figs choking the trees. The river divides the jungle’s domination apart from the stretch of sand below my socked feet. I can’t help my overwhelming sensation of vulnerability and consider how many souls are lost in here. The water before me isn’t so much an escape—rather a potential death trap misleading you as a path out. No one knows what lies in those muddy depths.

“Why did I allow Asoo to leave me here?” I mutter. Oh, that’s right, for the man who left me aloneallnight in the wilderness with nothing more than a smoldering fire.

“Why am I so surprised?” I say with sarcasm.

My stomach growls needing food, preferably the type prepared and ready to eat. Already I’m missing the luxury of Uber Eats—even a fast-food drive-through seems like a treat. Unzipping my backpack, I pull out nut snacks, a banana, and my anti-malarial meds. I take a tablet and guzzle water from my spare bottle, then peel down the banana skin and savor every piece then I head back into the forest edge to pick more.

Standing beside the vine, I’m on alert for bugs near my feet or movement above. I snap off a piece, then gaze ahead past the foliage while splitting the skin. I feel like I’m in a tunnel, the vegetation surrounding me is so thick. Yet through the web of green, I spy a man. Dark hair catches my eye first. It’s cut like a basin framing his face. His skin blends with the rotting leaves on the forest floor. Strangely, I’m not alarmed, only aware. He’s grasping a stick to balance, or it could be a spear. Squatting on his heels, he’s as still as the tree trunks surrounding him. I have no idea how long he’s been watching me. I recall Samuel telling me not to be afraid, so I take a tentative step toward him and then another.

He doesn’t move until I take a few more steps, winding a path around trees until we make eye contact. His long legs uncurl in a slow, controlled movement. He holds his ground, maintaining his stance the closer I come. Then he shoves his stick forward, the base remaining on the ground. I’m not sure if it’s for his protection or in warning.

“Where’s Samuel?” I ask in a low voice. “Samuel,” I repeat when he says nothing.

The piece of wood rises. He pulls out a small spear from his grass skirt. It’s the size of a dart, and he places it in the hollow opening and blows hard. I shriek and jump on hearing a thump behind me. The man runs past me. A huge snake slithers on the ground, and I scream as loud as my lungs will allow. The native American drops to his knees, hands over his ears before turning wide-eyed to stare at me. I’m still panting when he snaps the head of the snake, and its long body falls limp. Gathering the length of it, he slings the creature over his shoulder. Words stick in my throat as a vile taste coats my tongue. Without thinking, I run, pushing vines out of my path to my camp and sit by the smoking fire.

“Eden.” Samuel runs toward me from further along the river, and I sprint to him. He takes me in his arms and holds me close. Stroking my hair, he whispers, “What happened?”

“A snake,” I croak. I point toward the trees and hold back the tears threatening to undo me. I thump his chest in blame. “Why did you leave me here alone?”

His expression wears the same sleepless mask as mine. “There was no other way.”

“I was afraid,” I rasp.

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