'Wild'
Chapter 1: Land of the Lost
Legend has it that we are cursed. It is said they we are the discarded ones. We are young boys left to die by our own mothers because they realized that we cannot grow beyond our youthful appearance. Thus, our families left us to search for lands to call their own, and left us to fend for ourselves. Three hundred years have now passed. We are still here
We have no names. We are a nameless tribe. We cannot speak, but we do communicate through pictures we draw in the sands. We play, we swim, we hunt, and we live our lives each day to the fullest. We have no tails. We are seal pups. We have spotted patterns with our grey fur. We have no hair atop our heads. Our eyes are brown like the many trees
Our brown eyes are big and bright as one would see on a pup. No taller are we than 13 and a half hands, and no heavier than 4 and a half stone. Nudity is our way of living. In our huts, we weave baskets and hammocks from reeds. We groom each other, or go hunt for game such as wild boar or fish. We have no leader. Everything is shared among us.
Though we are cursed, we are blessed. The jungle provides us with food, and material needs. The lake provides us with water to drink as well as a place to bathe and swim. The sea gives us her bounty of fish. We are soft and small between our legs, but that does not hinder us. By machete and spear, we carved our existence on a little island of a home.
Even of we are of the same kin, there are some slight differences in features between us that make us unique. One member has a small mole in the corner of his left eye. Some traits do remain. Our fur is very short, though soft and smooth. As pups, we sport a round plumpness and jiggle to our little bums which makes for a bit of good-natured teasing
It is not a long journey from one end of the island to the other. At times, I would walk up to the cliff and watch the sea. There always seems to be nothing out there, but the sea. I walked back to one of the communal huts in the jungle to see that the hunters are back with fish for our supper. I noticed a hunter was his itching a scratch he could not reach.
I picked up a bone comb from my reed mat, and pointed to it as I showed the comb to the hunter, and smiled to him. He smiled, and he made a nod to my generosity. Everyone looks out for one another in the tribe. It is how we survive. He laid down on the mat on his belly, and I began to groom him. I will start with his hair to remove any mites, or lice.
With nothing coming off his hair, I moved toward his fur. He purred as I groomed him, and I found the source of his itch. A small mite was causing him a bit of annoyance. With it removed, the hunter felt better now. I also brushed some sand off his bum. He got up, and touched his hand to my shoulder. That is our way of saying thank you to each other.
'Supper is now ready'
Like the other two, I could smell the fish cooking over the fire. I joined the others around the communal fire as we shared in the bounty of the sea. After meals, we would have our rest. Sometimes a member of the tribe will be a trickster, and would tickle another with a feather. It is always chosen at random. One does not know who will get the feather.
While some were having their nap, I went out with another member of the tribe to fetch some fruit. He carried the machete, and he carried the basket. Looking up at the fruits, I put the blade of the machete in my muzzle and began the climb. Once at the top and with a few chops of the blade, the fruit fell into the baskets. The tree gives us five coconuts
We do not discard the shells after we drink the juice, and eat the flesh. The shells will be further used to make bowls and cups. I climbed back down the tree, and I walked with him back to the hut where the fruits can be enjoyed and used by others, including ourselves. The passion fruit and mangosteen are also well-loved fruits and in great abundance.
Our tribe consists of three members, and yet our bonds are as close and strong as brothers. It was now my turn to be groomed as my friend gestured with a hand to present his reed mat to me. I laid down on my belly so he can work. He used used both a bone comb and his fingers to look for things that must not be in one's fur. The comb tends to tickle
He picked out some twigs from my hair, bits of bark out of my feet and fur. He gave me a little smack on the bum to say that he was done. With a warm smile and a hand on his shoulder, I made my leave and went over to my mat for a nap. As I nap, I hear the sea. I hear the waves breaking on the shore. Still I wonder what is out there beyond the sea?
What I do know is that our land will not be lost for long. I do not know when, but it will happen that outsiders will find us. The question is how will we act toward them? Should we be welcoming or hostile? We know not of what lays beyond the sea, beyond this island. We know not of what might happen to us, and we know not of the intents of outsiders
The next day, I walked out of the hut and walked the trail to the lake. I smiled to myself as I dipped a big toe into the water before I dived in for a swim. Once I was awake and clean, I laid in the morning sun to dry my fur. On the way back to the communal hut I picked a few passion fruits off of the vines on the trail to share with myself and the others.
The other two looked pleased to see a basket of fruit for their morning meal. Using the edge of the iron blade of a machete, I helped in cutting open the small passion fruits and helped in sharing them among the other members of the tribe. To any visitors to our lands, depending on your intentions, I must say this. Though we look like pups, we are men