Wild:Part I

by Jared Sande

  “Are you ready?” he asked the boy, who nodded in acceptance, “Let us get moving then,” he said with a light smile as he turned and walked out the door, the excited boy following his lead.

  Through the thick, early morning mist, the boy followed the steps of his father, walking along the narrow footpath on which visibility was impossible beyond several strides. As they walked, the mist gradually began to disappear, the air becoming clearer as they moved.

  “Wow!” the boy exclaimed in both fear and amazement, as he walked-on while looking down to his right side at the wide lake several miles away. It was very far down below–a thing that made him realize they had been walking on top of an extremely high ridge. He kept looking down to the side, the trees that were barely recognizable.

  “Do not stare down too long,” his father cautioned him without looking back, “you might miss a step,”

  The boy rushed to catch up with him.

  “Where did all that water come from?” he asked, as he got closer,

  “I really do not know,”

  “Are we fishing there?”

  “No?”

  “Can we go down and see?”

  “Not today,”

  “But it’s not far? Look?”

  “It appears close because it’s a lot of water, believe me son, it is quite far from here, hurry up a little, we need to get there before midday.”

  The boy stepped up as they walked towards a small path that led leftwards and downwards off the ridge.

  ***

  The sun was now fully risen, with the father and his son making their way across a vast rocky plain; a wide piece of land that was bordered by distant escarpments.

  “Are you tired?” he asked the boy.

  “No I’m not?”

  “Hungry?”

  “Just a little,”

  “Want to turn back and-”

  “No!” the boy immediately protested.

  They approached a path that cut through a raised section of the plain, and the boy followed closely as his father walked up and stopped at its crest. It overlooked a lower, flat area down below.

  “Hooow!” the boy remarked as he got up the crest and stood beside his father.

  “Seen anything like this before?”

  “No! It is, scary!” he replied, both scared and surprised. His father smiled a little, and walked on down the path, leaving him frozen for a few seconds to process the scenery. He was looking at a vast, flat area covered by tens of ‘wells’ of different sizes; wells that were gushing clean, steaming water up into the air, some as high as the tallest trees. The water splashed and bathed most of the area, scattering and flowing into a clean lake above which hundreds of thousands of white flamingoes flocked.

  “Are you coming?” his father asked as he walked on. The boy, snapping out of his surprise, followed his tracks down the path. At the springs and geysers, he stared as he approached his father, who was tracing a path through the springs on the flat, red-orange landscape.

  “Where is it coming from!” he asked as he kept walking while staring–raising his voice to be heard through the gushing and splashing.

  “Under the earth!” his father replied.

  “Is it hot?”

  “Very hot!” replied his father, after which the boy rushed his little steps and grabbed his belt; staying very close as they walked through, without him keeping his eyes off the water.

  “This is amazing! Why does it pour out?”

  “I really do not know! You like it!”

  “It is, scary!”

  “Relax! We are getting close to the fishing grounds! Keep up the good pace!” he encouraged as they walked through.

  ***

  Close to midday, the two were walking down a gentle slope grown with thick vegetation. They followed a green, carpet-grass path, through the thin, straight trees, as they walked towards a very sandy, clear area down below. A pool of water was next to it.

  “Look at this place!” the boy marveled as he followed his father out the trees; walking onto the warm, light brown sand. He turned and looked around, marveling at the sight of the very high, medium size waterfall, which poured cool, clear water into the wide pool that flew on slowly and calmly.

  All around the area were hundreds of noisy monkeys, which chattered and escaped from the man and his son; madly dispersing and jumping further into the tall trees surrounding the fall. The man walked closer to the pool, and he ‘unburdened’ himself beside a lone tree. Just close to the fall’s plunge pool, was a fairly flat piece of rock–several meters wide and across–toward which the boy walked under his father’s instruction.

  “Will they harm us?” he asked about the monkeys while ‘unloading’ at the rock.

  “They are afraid of us. Put the baskets over there,” he instructed the boy, as he grabbed one of his two spears.

  Kneeling on the rock platform and sitting on his calfs, the boy watched his father (on his front-left side) scan for fish inside the clear water. As he watched, his naked upper-body warmed in the sun. His palms rested on the rock, on which in front of him, were three fat, orange-gray tilapia, and one brown mudfish. Each of the tilapia was as long as his leg, from the knee downwards, and the mudfish was as long as the distance from his waist to his feet.

  The area around the pool was cool: a result of the mist from the splashing water neutralizing the heat from the overhead sun. Enjoying the coolness on his skin, the boy relaxed and observed his father, who stood in the middle of the flowing water facing the direction of the water flow, which gently curved into the forest where trees bordered its banks all along its course.

  With his feet anchored in the water (that reached close to his waist), the man observed the big, healthy fish swimming around his legs. Selecting a fat tilapia, he held his spear in readiness. And just as he raised it for a strike…

  “Why do we have to fish here?” the boy innocently interrupted his concentration, causing him to hesitate and scare the fish. Sighing to himself, the man stepped very smoothly through the water to change his position.

  “The water here is fresh, so the fish is healthy, it is all I know,” he answered as he took position, the boy watching as he gripped his spear. He selected a slow fish from the oblivious school swimming around, and he stilled himself. Controlling his breath, he raised the spear a strike, as…

  “Why is the water here fresh?” the boy interrupted his concentration again,

  “You are making me scare the fish!” he complained. The boy looked away slowly. He moved slowly to change his position, and again picked a new spot. The boy looked back at him and kept watching.

  As his father was focused on the fish, the boy noticed something different; small water waves were moving outwards and backwards as they approached his father from the quiet side of the river. By straightening his back, he rose to his knees to have a better look.

  “I think something is moving in the water,” he said to his father, who got distracted again.

  “I cannot catch more fish if you keep talking? What do I have to tell you?”

  “But it’s-”

  “There is nothing in the water,” he ‘assured’ the boy, who slowly sat back on his calfs. He went back to fishing while slowly shaking his head. To avoid distracting him, the boy tried to look straight down at the water, but the side of his left eye unintentionally caught the ‘movement’ again, forcing him to pay attention. He looked as the small waves kept approaching his father, getting uncomfortably close.

  He looked at his father, and back at the moving waves, and he almost said something but stopped himself. He weighed the consequence of distracting him against the possibility of something dangerous harming him inside the water.

  “Something is in the water father,” he fearfully said aloud.

  “How many times-”

  “Look!” he pointed out the fast moving, small wave to him. His father suddenly turned his head and looked. His face turned serious and his eyes widened, as he realiz
ed what it was. Quickly, he turned around and started towards the rock, on which the boy stood up in fear and watched as he rushed his steps against the flowing water.

  “What is it?” the boy asked loudly with fear.

  “Stay back!” his father cautioned.

  “It’s getting closer!” the boy observed with both fear and curiosity, as his father rushed against the current, his steps speeding up as he approached the shore. Just as he raised his foot and stepped on a rock inside the water, a massive, scaled tail lashed out behind him. It swept his foot off the rock and caused him to fall backwards into the water, losing grip of his spear as he plunged in with a massive splash.

  “Father!” the boy cried as he stood confused, watching as the water around the splash whirled and mixed with great intensity. His eyes opened wide as he saw his father suddenly get hurled out into the air by the massive, stone-hard crocodile back.

  The reptile’s back was close to his father’s back, as he turned with it in midair. Its massive jaws moved in a biting stance towards his right arm, which he removed to his right leg, and drew his sharp dagger. They plunged back into the water.

  “Father!” he cried, watching helplessly as blood started to color the ‘turning water’.

  “Father!” he cried again, rushing to the edge of the rock, from where he saw the massive crocodile charge out again–now with his father’s left arm tightly restraining the underside of its neck, his legs locking across its belly, holding on at its back as he repeatedly continued to stab its throat. Vigorously, the monstrous reptile turned and splashed back in an attempt to get him off its back, the water turning redder as it continued to mix up.

  The boy felt a slight skip in his heartbeat as his father’s head suddenly surfaced. “Father!” he called as his father caught a breath, after which he immediately started rushing towards the tree on which he had set his tools. The boy ran off the rock in the same direction.

  “Get me that spear!” his father said as he rushed his legs through the coloring water, whirling around him.

  “Hurry!” he insisted as the boy ran towards the tree, “hurry!” The boy got to the tree and grabbed the spear, which he threw so that it spun and turned as it flew toward him. Raising his hand as he stepped on the rock ones again, the man grabbed the spear right at the middle of its shaft, as the crocodile charged out the water behind him.

  Against the rock, he sprung himself as he turned, his hand charging with strength as he thrust the razor sharp tip right into the crocodile’s throat through its huge, open mouth. With the other end of the spear, he pushed it backwards into the water, and he quickly turned and splashed towards the shore, where his son was anxiously waiting for him.

  “Father!” he called as he rushed out the water. He moved to help him as he collapsed on all his fours, coughed as he caught a breath.

  “Are you hurt father?” he very caringly asked.

  “No I’m (coughing) I’m fine, are you okay!”

  “Yes father.” “Are you okay!” he insisted while holding his right shoulder and checking his condition.

  “I’m fine father,” the boy assured, “your hand!” he noticed a profusely bleeding fresh wound on his father’s left arm–a deep ‘hole’ made by one of the crocodile’s dirty canines.

  “Get me my pouch, hurry,” he sent the boy rushing to the tree, as he capped the wound tightly with his right hand, blood flowing out between his fingers. The boy rushed back with the soft skin pouch, and he turned slowly and sat on the ground, getting ready to nurse the wound.

  ***

  “…it was twisting and turning! And you grabbed it with your arm and killed it!” the very excited boy demonstrated with a lot of energy as he followed his father through the clear, leaf carpeted paths of the forest, carrying the same loads he had when he left that morning, “that was great father! You killed a crocodile! I cannot believe it!”

  “Not the fishing exercise you hopped for, was it?”

  “No father! It was more than I imagined! It was amazing! I want to come with you next time!” he suggested as the house came into view against the orange, setting sun.

  “But you saw how dangerous it was?”

  “No! I want to come again! I want to walk on the very high ridge! I want to see water exploding out of the ground! And learn how to kill crocodiles!” he said with his father laughing lightly as they approached the raised part of the forest.

  “I’m serious father! I want to learn that too! I want to be strong too?”

  “But you said you were strong already? Remember?”

  “I am? But I want to be stronger?” he said as he hurried his steps to catch up with his father’s left arm, which was entirely bandaged with a soft piece of skin that held the herbs which prevented infection and restrained bleeding.

  “Stronger?” his father asked.

  “Way stronger!”

  He insisted, his father laughed while walking on towards the house.

  ***

  “And then what happened father? What happened?” the boy, who sat on his bed, asked while staring at his father, seated on a stool on the opposite side of the fire as he paused and looked down at the flames.

  “Death happened. Death,” he replied. The boy sighed with some sorrow while still staring at him.

  “Time for bed now, get in before the monster comes to get you too,” he said to him.

  “Monster?” the boy returned, “I would take a sword and strike it, like that boy?” he illustrated while getting into bed, covering himself to the neck with the warming, fur blanket.

  “Does it hurt?” he asked his father with some sympathy.

  “Not that much,” he replied, covering up the fact that it was excruciatingly painful.

  “Father?”

  “Yes boy?”

  “The forest is dangerous, is it not?”

  “It is?”

  “Yet we live here every day? Why?” he asked as his father paused for a while before responding.

  “Is it not beautiful? And rich?”

  “It is?”

  “And fun?”

  “Of course it is, but it’s dangerous? You could have died today?” he said. His father sighed ones again.

  “It is our home now son,” he told him, “and we accept it for what it is, you see, that way, we can prepare for whatever it brings, we cannot go back, can we?” he asked while looking into his eyes. The boy slightly moved his head side to side in refusal.

  “Sleep son, I will see you tomorrow.”

  “I will see you tomorrow as well father,” the boy said and he laid back on the bed, the man smiling and watching as he turned and faced the other side, closing his eyes.

  Back to the fire, the man turned his attention. He gently pushed-in a piece of firewood, and then carefully crossed his hands over his knees. Soundlessly, he watched the flames as he contemplated.

  THE END