by Archer Swift
***
There was one more thing to do that day before climbing my tree to see out the dark hours—light the perimeter fires for the night with Judd. Dixan and Jordin’s pre-dark job was to fetch Hog paste from the other side of the river. (They traversed the river by using a long, deployable log serving as a retractable bridge.) Lighting the fires was our task.
While Judd and I were normally chatty, this evening, we completed our mission in silence. A thick despair seemed wrapped around my friend. I didn’t have the smarts or energy to try to break it.
An arc of fires, seven in all, served as a boundary restraint against prowling creatures. The river at our backs completed our circle of protection. In the middle of the camp, I added fresh wood to the fire we kept alive day in and day out. The women slept in two trees next to this main fire in the centre, near Base Stump. If they tried to snare our girls, we hoped that having to come through our trees would be something of a deterrent.
I was left to stoke the main fire myself. Face set low, Judd had managed a “Sorry” and then left before I could find my voice. I knew my friend was castigating himself for not standing up to Ruzzell. He had his father’s warm, confident brown eyes—but after today, both the warmth and confidence were gone.
He’ll be okay. Tomorrow.
Judd’s mother was also killed by The Plague on Earth. His father died towards the end of our second year on this planet. Torn apart by Eden’s monster predator, the tiger-like sabre-toothed terror. King of the jungle, the Sabre was terrifyingly violent and unfairly armed with a rhino-horn. While it mainly shredded its prey with its long, sabre-shaped canines and sharp, powerful claws, the horn was used for spiteful pleasure, to gore and torment. I still remember Judd’s father muffling his own screams. Downplaying the horror. For the sake of us, the children. I’d just turned nine.
Our arrows were useless against the beast’s red-and-green striped hide, thick as a rhino’s crust. In our favour, it was not as agile or nearly as fast as Earth’s tiger being so much larger and heavier. But the only reason our entire clan wasn’t ripped apart that day … was … was Dad. My father’s courage. His sacrifice.
As the large bonfire crackled and popped with the addition of fresh fuel, a thousand different thoughts rattled around my mind before I became conscious of both Gellica and Nadalie looking down from their sleeping spots high up in their trees.
“Sorry ladies,” I said realising, lost in my own thoughts, I might be disturbing them.
“Don’t be,” replied Nadalie. “You’re a welcome sight before the dark.”
I looked up, grateful for her kind words, the ferocity of the fire light illuminating their pretty faces. They looked like angels, peering down from their lofty heights; I nearly lost my breath. Gellica’s eyes were fixed on me. Then she spoke.
“Rist … I’m really sorry about today.”
“What?” I absently cracked a thin branch over my knee. “No, you’ve got nothing to apologise for—”
“I do,” the inflexion of her voice was strained. “You stood up for me … and I did nothing.”
“Gellica, there was nothing you could do.”
She sighed. “I could have, should have said something.”
“Me too,” said Nadalie. “We all left you high and dry.”
I felt self-conscious, like my own skin didn’t fit me. “Nothing you could have said or done would have made a difference. It’s okay.”
“You’re so sweet,” said Nadalie, her face beaming in the light. Gellica said nothing, but it looked like her eyes were teary. An awkward pause ensued.
“Goodnight then,” I said, unsure of what else to say.
“Night, Rist,” said Nadalie.
Gellica cleared her throat. “Goodnight.”
“Night then,” I said, and as I walked off, a bedtime rhyme flashed in my mind. From a long, long time ago and from a galaxy far, far away. Something like, “Don’t let the bugs bite … if they do, bite them back”. I chuckled to myself. It was grossly inappropriate now.
The fires offered protection against predators, and the smouldering river reeds, which I had added in prodigious quantity, gave off a subtle yet repugnant odour that kept jungle bugs at bay. Another crucial survival tactic. Some of Eden’s insects could carry a small child away.
More than protection, however, the lit fires provided a measure of comfort for us at night. Sleeping alone up a tree in a jungle teeming with enemies and predators was a nerve-racking experience. The warm glow of the fire was therapeutic, and helped most people sleep.
I was one of the exceptions.