by Amber Hart
“You helped,” Clovis retorts.
“Well, both of you need to be responsible and clean up,” Mother says.
“I’ll do it,” Clovis offers.
I smile, relieved to be rid of the duty.
“I’m the responsible one,” he continues. “Responsible enough to clean a room. Maybe I’m even responsible enough to go on a hunt.”
“Hey,” I object. “What’s that supposed to mean? I’m responsible enough to hunt.”
Clovis waves me off. “I’ve got it, Mrs. Tondjii. I’ll clean everything.”
“Thank you, Clovis,” she replies. “I’ll be sure to tell the men how responsible you were.”
“What!” I yell. “No, wait!” Mother pauses in the door. “I’ll clean it. I’ll clean everything,” I offer. “I’m responsible too.”
Mother smiles and leaves the room. Suddenly Clovis stands and laughs.
“Later,” he says, and runs to the door.
“Where are you going?” I ask.
“To see them off on their hunt.” Clovis’s smile widens. “You’re just too easy, Jospin. Too easy.”
—
Clovis has always been cunning. Now is no exception.
“I can kill you before you even blink,” I warn him, pulling Raven tighter to me. She doesn’t say a word, only watches my interaction with Clovis. “Don’t think I won’t do it, Clovis. Just because we have a past doesn’t mean I owe you anything now.”
Clovis chuckles. “I am well aware that you know a thousand ways to kill me. For now, though, why don’t we settle on you sleeping so that you don’t slow us all down tomorrow, okay?”
I will sleep this time. I will take the risk and hope for the best, because I badly need the rest. I purposefully take my knife out and leave it in my hand, ready.
Clovis turns back to his hammock, ignoring my threat. And for the first time in too long, I sleep.
Chapter 41
Raven
Waking up in a tree in the jungle, I feel light-years away from Michigan. I don’t have a cozy bed or a pillow or Mama or my friends. I don’t have coffee or pancakes or comfy pajamas. I can’t turn on the radio or sing in the shower or even take a shower. There are so many things I cannot do.
But what I can do is this: Wake up in Jospin’s arms.
That makes all the difference. I will give up everything for moments like this. I will skip the fun chats with friends and the simple obliviousness of my life there. Here, in the jungle, animals are dying and humans are dying and not enough people care. But I care. The jungle has made me care, despite—or perhaps because of—its dangerous secrets. It has made me care by giving me the beautiful boy who has spent his life here.
I kiss Jospin’s cheek. He stirs and smiles before opening his eyes.
“Fresh jungle air and sleep and Raven,” he murmurs. “Perfect.”
I look around. Today is far from perfect. Rain hits leaves with a plinking sound. The ground has turned into a mess of mud. The trees are slick, and I am only partially warm. My clothes need drying. I try not to shiver. We are under a canopy of dark clouds.
“How long was I out?” he asks.
“All night,” I reply.
Clovis didn’t wake either of us. He stayed up the whole time, allowing us much-needed rest. He looks down at us from his perch above.
“Sleep well?” he asks.
I smile. “Yes, thank you.”
Jospin withdraws his arm from my back and stretches. “We should get going,” he says, pocketing the knife he slept with.
I sit up and slowly climb onto a limb. My boots grip tightly, though I worry that I’ll slide. Since my pants are already wet, I wrap my legs around the trunk of the tree and maneuver my way down. Three times I slip and my breath catches. I think I might fall, but every time Jospin is there.
“You’ve got it,” he says, completely confident in me, though the descent is more than twenty feet.
Clovis follows, pausing each time I need to get a better grip. They can scale the tree with no problem, but they wait patiently for me. They don’t complain. They don’t push me to go faster. When we reach the bottom, Clovis adjusts the bag on his shoulders and points toward a dense overgrowth of jungle.
“That’s our best bet,” he says. “If we want to hide out for a few days until the ground dries up, that’s where we should go.”
“It’s also the most dangerous,” Jospin says. “Quicksand and vipers and predators.”
“Yes,” Clovis says. “But we can build a makeshift tree house there.”
Jospin glances at me. “You’re shivering, Raven. You need to get out of the cold and change into dry clothes. You would be safe there, if we can make it. Do you want to try?”
“Yes,” I reply.
He’s right. I need fresh clothes and food. I want to look at my fingers and not see them completely wrinkled from the rain. I want my hair to dry and my teeth to stop chattering.
So we take off over flooded ground. The water reaches our ankles, but we keep on. In some places, it climbs up to my thighs. Jospin warns me of the spots to steer clear of, where the mud is so thick that it can suck you under.
In the water, things move. I try not to think about them. I am grateful for my pants and boots that protect me from the slithering of creatures below. Occasionally a bug or a worm clings to me as if I’m a life preserver, but I flick it off and continue on. From the corner of my eye, I see something move through the trees. At first I wonder if I am imagining it. But the third time I spot it, I stop.
“Something is here,” I say.
Jospin pauses beside me. Clovis takes inventory.
“To the left,” I say.
They look just as it ducks behind a tree. But it was a moment too late this time, because I saw it more clearly.
“It’s a gorilla,” I say.
“Yes,” Jospin confirms. “I saw it a little ways back. It’s been following us. It seems more curious than anything.”
I try to push it away, but a memory haunts me.
Fangs bared in front of my face. Nails raking down my arm. Blood, so much blood. I cannot breathe. I am no match for the silverback.
I suck in a breath. What if this gorilla means us harm? What if there are more, an entire troop? I don’t want to kill them. I never want to kill them.
“What if it’s like the silverback that attacked me?” I ask, unable to hide my worry. “Are you sure it’s just curious?”
“It’s a female,” Clovis says. “Don’t worry. She seems skittish. If she meant to attack, she would have.”
I hear his words, but my heart still pounds in fear. Maybe I will always fear. Or maybe it’s because we’re in a jungle alone with a wild ape. This isn’t a sanctuary. This gorilla is not behind glass. Just then, she darts off and leaves us alone. I sigh in relief.
“You don’t have to worry about being attacked,” Jospin says. “We have weapons. I would never let them hurt you.” He pauses. “Not this time.”
“It’s not just that,” I admit. “I don’t want to look them in the face and pull the trigger. I can’t see them like that, Jospin.”
He watches me. “You’re sure? Even in a dangerous situation? Even if it was charging you?”
Am I really sure? Could I take a gorilla’s life? Would Dad have done it?
“I don’t know,” I admit. “I never want to know.”
Clovis motions us forward and we continue to walk the muddy path. It’s impossible to see the rocks and vines hidden beneath the murky water, and so my feet snag often. I try my best to right myself and continue on. The walk is slow because of the treacherous conditions, but we continue farther and farther, until the forest is so thick that I cannot see anything but what’s directly in front of us. Here, where the trees are many, the water is lower, absorbed by thirsty roots.
We walk in silence, careful to listen to the forest. It is eerily quiet. When Jospin feels we’ve walked far enough, we stop. Clovis climbs a tree to get a better look, while
Jospin lays his bag on the ground and removes his machete. He gets to work immediately, hacking limbs of trees. He only takes what’s closest to the forest floor.
“Why do you choose those particular branches?” I ask.
“They’re thicker,” Jospin says, not stopping.
It’s true that in the months since arriving here, I have gotten to know the jungle. But I also realize that I will never know all the ways of the rain forest. Conditions shift, as they did today, and the jungle requires something different of me.
“And where will the tree house go?” I ask.
“High up, where the leaves will hide any evidence that we’re here,” Jospin replies.
In the places where he has cut the limbs, he hangs things: moss, vines, and other greenery. He sees me watching.
“If a poacher were to walk through here now,” Jospin says, “what would he see?”
“Us,” I reply.
“I mean in the scenery, Raven,” Jospin clarifies. “Let’s say we’re in the tree house already—what would he see?”
“Nothing. The rain washes away all tracks.”
“Wrong,” Jospin says. “Tracks can be left anywhere. If I accidentally brush the machete against the bark of the tree, the tree will wear a scar. Likewise, if I cut an entire branch, it will show. The wood will be lighter, fresher. A trained poacher will know in an instant that we are here. We must be careful.”
I understand then why he hangs things around the cut sites: to hide our location. Jospin begins piling all the branches he’s cut just as Clovis descends.
“The tree there,” Clovis says, pointing to a thick trunk a few paces from us, “is the best option.”
Jospin lifts several branches onto his shoulders and begins carrying them to the site Clovis mentioned. I do the same, though I cannot carry as many. Surprisingly, my arm doesn’t hurt. The wound has healed. My leg is tender but almost restored. We work quickly—me collecting moss to help disguise our structure, and Jospin lugging limbs up the tree—until finally our supplies are secure high in the branches.
Before beginning to construct the temporary shelter, Clovis looks at Jospin and says, “Like when we were kids?” I don’t know what he means, but Jospin must, because he nods and holds the limbs in place while Clovis ties them together. I watch in awe as they make quick work of building a floor. To the side lies a pile of thorns, which Clovis uses like nails to secure the wood. When the floor is complete, they work on the sides by lining up tree limbs to act as walls. They repeat the process for the roof. Clovis instructs me to push moss in the cracks between limbs for insulation from the rain. It takes a few hours, but eventually we have a makeshift shelter swathed in greenery.
“Incredible,” I say, as I step inside.
The tree house is small enough to go unnoticed but large enough to fit the three of us. I have enough room to stand and to lie flat. Best part: It is dry.
“I’ll step outside,” Clovis says. “You can change.”
I’m eager to peel the wet cotton from my skin.
Chapter 42
Jospin
The nice thing about the rain is that it provides us with plenty of drinking water. One hour on the forest floor and I was able to secure several fruits, which had been washed from their vines, and many small bugs, which are great for protein.
“Are we eating those?” Raven asks, looking slightly horrified.
“They’re packed with protein, and these aren’t the best hunting conditions, so yes,” I reply.
We are out of rations. We did well, eating only what we needed for energy, but it’s been more than a week since we left the habitat, and our supply has run out.
“I know it’s not ideal,” I add. “But they don’t actually taste that bad. It’s just that you’re not used to them.”
I’ve eaten bugs before. They are perfect for situations like now, when we desperately need to take advantage of every opportunity to eat.
“Do I just swallow them?” she asks, looking apprehensive.
Clovis takes a few bugs and pops them into his mouth. He chews and swallows, like he’s done many times before.
“Whatever you prefer,” I reply.
Raven picks up a grub, scrutinizing it. “I’m not sure about this.”
I throw a couple in my mouth and swallow them whole. “You’ll feel better with protein in you.”
Raven puts the bugs near her mouth and then gags, extending them to me. “I can’t do it.”
“You can,” I encourage. “Try again.”
Raven shakes her head, takes a deep breath, and then closes her eyes before eating one quickly. She tries not to gag again.
“That was terrible,” she says, cringing.
I want to laugh, because she looks adorable; her face scrunches up and she eats a few more.
“Absolutely terrible,” she says, reaching for water to help wash them down. “How many more before I have enough protein in me?”
“Probably about twenty,” I say.
She opens her eyes and looks horrified at the idea of eating that many, but then she spots my grin. “You’re joking, right?”
I laugh. “Yes, Raven. You only need a few more.”
“Thank God,” she says, relieved.
Raven eats two more and leaves the rest for me.
“I like snake better,” she says, clearly desperate to wash the taste from her mouth with water.
I laugh harder. “How about I try to get us a pig tomorrow if the rain dies down?”
Raven sits on freshly cut wood in dry clothes with her hair pinned up high and says, “Perfect.”
When all the bugs are gone, Clovis removes a dagger from his pocket and cuts a banana in three, followed by two mangoes. Juice drips down my fingers and off my elbow, collecting into a little pool on the floor.
While I eat, I think about what will happen when we deliver what we have to the office contact for the embassy. I’m not actually sure it is enough evidence, a few papers with numbers. I’m not sure that they will act right away. Maybe they’ll make us wait weeks. Or months. How long does it take them to investigate a claim? I wouldn’t know.
I watch as Raven eats fruit, fingers glistening with mango juice, and decide that we need a backup plan. She’s fought a hard battle. She’s tried to get justice for her father’s death. I’ve been disowned and banished. Clovis might as well have been. All of our lives are on the line, and I cannot let it be for nothing. If there’s even the smallest chance of getting Father to stop hunting Raven, to ensure her safety, I’ll do anything. So I’ve decided. When the time comes to deliver the evidence, I’ll also turn myself in.
—
My dagger shines bright silver. I imagine that the steel is red with the blood of many kills, though it’s clean. I think about the creases in the hilt and wonder if deep in the grooves there is dried crimson. I remember when I made this dagger. It is the same one I crafted when I showed Raven how to weld metal.
There’s a noise below that sounds like an ape. I eye Raven and Clovis; they hear it too. The rain is just a drizzle and the ape is calling out, maybe to another of its kind. To be sure there are no poachers, we wait a few minutes in the tree house.
“It’s a female,” Clovis comments. “Probably the same one we saw before.”
“Maybe she lives here?” Raven asks.
There’s another sound. This time it’s male. Raven jumps up and quickly goes out the shelter door.
“What are you doing?” I ask, but she doesn’t answer.
Raven descends the tree, knocking into a few branches, and hits the forest floor in a run. I take off after her, catching up quickly.
“I knew it,” she whispers.
An ape walks into view. Thick brown fur covers his body. A telltale scar is on his arm. It is Leahcim. For the first time, I notice a peppering of silver on his back. He has reached maturity.
Raven isn’t the least bit reserved. She steps toward him.
“You’re free,” she says.
Raven lifts her hand and motions something to Leahcim. “I’m signing the word paint. He remembers me, Jospin.”
Her smile is huge, and she walks up to him, this gorilla that I possibly trust slightly more than other gorillas, which is to say barely at all. I keep my dagger in hand. Leahcim eyes me and sees the dagger but does nothing. He simply goes back to watching Raven. She sits beside his feet. Slowly, she reaches a hand to his face.
“Leahcim,” she whispers. “I’ve missed you.”
The gorilla smells her hand and touches her arm with his leathery fingers. He rubs pieces of her hair together and places them in his mouth for a taste. Raven laughs.
“Are you happy, Leahcim? You look happier. You’re not behind glass. You’re well again. And you’ve gained weight. A lot of weight.”
I do not understand the way she talks to this gorilla, like a friend, but then I remember how she painted him, as if she loves him.
“Who is she?” Raven asks, and looks off at the female. “Is she your mate?” Raven is smiling. “She’s very pretty.”
I’m so caught up in Raven’s interaction with this gorilla that I almost don’t notice when Clovis approaches.
“It’s incredible, isn’t it?” he asks me. “How much gorillas are like us. The capacity they have to remember and to form friendships that go beyond just their species. And we used to kill them, Jospin. We killed them in cold blood.”
Raven runs a hand down the gorilla’s arm, then his feet. He moves his toes as if it tickles him.
“Are you ticklish?” she asks playfully.
She reaches for his sides and I move to tell her to stop. It’s too dangerous.
“Don’t,” Clovis warns. “He has bonded with her. He won’t hurt her.”
I pause. Maybe, but is it worth the risk? Raven tickles Leahcim, and he opens his mouth in what almost seems like a laugh.
“You’re ticklish!” she says.
Leahcim reaches his hands to Raven’s side, and she squirms.