Not Alone

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Anticipating being gone for a week or more Lantern did not want to be caught somewhere unfamiliar without food. In preparation he caught several turkeys and some large fish for his first trip from the cave, smoking the meat to preserve it. Weaving the netting for a pack had been torture. Having no experience, it took him well over three weeks to come up with a design that would work. He had learned to collect the thin green vines, as they were very supple and easily bent and shaped the way he wanted. When dried, they did not turn brittle and rough but became more like cloth.

He had also taken time to fashion several more spears, varying in length and thickness. Some were specifically for hunting fowl others were for fishing. He had also designed one especially for himself, long and somewhat thick, tipped with a sharpened wedge of flint. That one was for defense since he had no way to know what or whom he would encounter. The incident he'd witnessed between the natives was embedded in his mind, along with the knowledge he might be next.

This trip was, in part, to become familiar with the terrain he was accepting as home. To protect himself he had to know the lay of the land. A large mountain rose heavenward to the west, and Lantern knew that he could get a good idea of the landscape from its summit. With that as his intended destination, he meant to leave in the morning.

The flitting jungle birds merrily followed him in the high branches as he set out, the netted pack slung across his back. These birds were cheery and sang sweetly to him as he walked. They had orange heads, breasts, and bodies; wings, back, and tails were grey with whitish patches on the wings. Lantern correctly guessed they were some species of thrush. The larger parrots and macaws sat up in the high branches, loudly cracking seeds with their beaks as he passed underneath.

He had his spear in one hand, his compass in the other. Over time in this lost world, his senses had sharpened, and could easily dismiss the normal sounds of the jungle around him. His eyes were not distracted by every moving branch or flit of color. In the passing of months, Lantern had shifted well from sea captain to hunter, becoming capable and confident.

He followed flux de pêche, or the Fishing Stream, calling it by a French name, the language of his mother. He did not allow himself to dwell on her memory often, but her effect lingered on him like perfume, lightly touching everything around him. When he got hungry, he pulled some smoked fish from his pack or picked fruit from the trees. There were several varieties here, and he was fond of them.

He called the first jaune prune, or yellow plum, for its shape and tangy flavored skin. The second was carapace molle de coco or soft-shelled coconut, that one was sweet and juicy, the meat a pale orange. It was particularly good when roasted. The third was small and hard, almost like a walnut, but when it was roasted, it burst and softened to a mildly sweet gooey center that was tasty with the fowl. He called that one the cerise noir, black cherry.

The area around him was beautiful and surprisingly open. The jungle faded away, revealing spacious grasslands as he came closer to the mountain. At night there was a spectacular view of the starry skies above him, the air so clear he could see clusters winking brightly from far away. He made good time, hitting the base of the slope only nine days from leaving the cave, and he looked up at the steep mountain before him, thrilled at the physical challenge of the climb.

He was unprepared for the sheer beauty of the view from the summit. At one time, it must have been a volcano, but now it was full of freshwater that supplied the many streams and rivers lacing the terrain. It sparkled in varying shades of clear sapphire, contrasting with the rich green of the grassy slopes. Kneeling, he scooped up a handful of water, his eyes widening at the clean, sweet flavor. Getting to his feet, he looked across the vast land around him, the sky so clear he could see for many miles.

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