Paradise Lost

NorthernSoul · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **NorthernSoul** on Fri Apr 06, 2012 5:32 am

There was fire on the water. Far away across the water, an amber glow seared through the rain that swept across the bay and cast shadows over some dark shape that was tossed up and over the waves like a leaf in a stream. But there was no sound; nothing could penetrate the dense sound of the roar of the wind and the crash of the sea against the rocks. Only the amber glow that winked and bobbed and was eventually extinguished below the waves.

Grace hugged the trunk of the palm, clutching her tunic around her with her free hand. The rain, dripping off the branches and pooling in the veins of leaves, was cool and she could not suppress a shiver as a droplet snaked down beneath the hide and along the ridge of her spine. And yet she could not take her eyes off that light. It tugged at some deeply hidden memory, threatening to bring it foaming to the surface. She remembered a light like that, not a flickering light that licked at the darkness like the fire she would light at the entrance of the cave but a steady chemical light shaped by the round curve of clear glass. Her heart drummed in fear and anticipation at the thought of it. What did it mean?

Even after the glow had gone out, Grace remained at the tree-line of the beach, staring fiercely at the spot where it had been as if by doing so she could force it to relight again. Though it had only been a light a mile or so out to sea, she suddenly felt very alone in its absence. Mentally scolding herself for such foolishness, she trailed her palm over the rough bark of the palm and stepped back into the scrub. Ten yards away was a large tree with thick spreading branches that bloomed with orange-red blossom in the rainy season. She'd often sat in the hollow at the fork of its trunk, nicking the flesh of the tree with her flint blade to release some of the sticky sap she could bind the head of her arrows with or simply looking out across the beach. Deftly finding a familiar foothold, she climbed up there now and sank down into the open hand of the branches, too wary to sleep. Instead, lying flush against the thickest branch, she looked out across the moonlit sand and waited the last few hours until dawn, protected from the downpour by the waxy leaves of the tree.

Dawn eeked out over the horizon, casting long fragile shadows with watery fingers of light. Grace's eyes were gritty with tiredness and she rubbed them with the back of her hands to wake herself up. Across the sand, something large and unnaturally square was jutting out of the waves, being gradually nudged further up the sand by the lapping water, now quieted in comparison to the storm the previous night. Grace recognised it immediately; it was like the ones that had littered the beach to the west when she had first come to the island, which she had mostly broken up for firewood. A few, too sea-sodden and rotten for that purpose, had lasted a couple of years before gradually collapsing into the soil, eaten by insects.

Her heart in her throat, she crept out along the branch to get a better look of the rest of the beach.

Modesty · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Modesty** on Fri Apr 06, 2012 8:29 pm

It was a chorus of mens’ voices low and melodic, singing an old shanty to create a rhythm while they worked. The harmonic rolled across the ocean, cutting through the cold night air like the bow of the boat was cutting through the waves. Each syllable held and sung in tune with each careful maneuver as knots were tied, ropes tightened and sails secured. While the sun had long set and night had blanketed the sea, the work of the sailors carried on. And so they sang;

In Dublin’s fair city, where girls are so pretty
’Twas there that I first met sweet Molly Malone
She wheeled her wheelbarrow through streets broad and narrow

Crying, “cockels and mussels alive, alive-o”
Alive, alive-o, alive, alive-o
Crying, “cockels and mussels alive, alive-o”

She was a fishmonger, but sure ’twas no wonder
For so were her father and mother before
And they each wheeled their barrow through streets broad and narrow…

She died of a fever and no one could save her
And that was the end of sweet Molly Malone
Her ghost wheels her barrow through streets broad and narrow

Strong arms carried him up the rope ladder wrapped around the mast, a fishing knife held tight between his teeth. While the air was cold, and sea spray colder, he wore no jacket. The long sleeves of the white shirt were rolled up to stay out of the way. Years on the water had built up immunity to the elements, and the singing kept his mind off of anything that would have otherwise bothered him. Aedan reached to pull himself up the last ring and everything went vertical.

For reasons unknown The Lady Misery’s starboard rose, tilting opposite end into the sea. The ocean roared up, spilling over the side and across the deck, and sweeping crew into the waters as it receded. Their screams were lost to the swell. It was all Aedan could do to hold on, having lost his barring, being tossed about. The ship righted herself, but it was too late. The sea was a dangerous mistress and she’d already claimed half the crew. Hazel eyes looked down, frantically searching for anyone else but all they could see was the raging fire from spilled oil lamps. It was hopeless. She was ablaze, and they were sinking, and they were far from land.

Abandon ship, he thought but no words would escape his lips. Aedan dove into the freezing waters of the ocean. No matter how many years of immunity he had built up, it didn’t compare to the chill that swept him to the bone. The waters were dark. The sky was dark. It all blurred. Everything was cold. It stole the breath right from his lungs. Aedan couldn’t tell where was air or water, up or down. And then, slowly, his consciousness faded to black as well.

---

Dawn broke. Eyelids, sore and already closed, clenched tighter. The feeling of the tides still rolled over him, the crashing of the waves still pounding in his ears, but none of it was real. The sand beneath his body, everywhere, that was real. The salt had sucked all the moisture out of his skin. He gasped, opening his eyes to a world so much brighter than he remembered. He was lost. He was dreaming. He had no idea what was going on. And then the events from the previous night came flooding back. The sailor’s heart clenched, pained at the memory of The Lady Misery capsizing. He’d told them it was unlucky of name a ship with thirteen letters but those bastards didn’t listen.

He forced himself to get up, to move, to gain his barring. It was impossible to guess where he was; there hadn’t been any land on the charter near the ship’s path. The storm could have taken him anywhere. Debris littered the beach mixed with seaweed and shells, right up to the forest line. There was no sign of life. Throat dry, Aedan called out; “Ahoy! Hello! Anybody?”

But he really didn’t expect a reply.

NorthernSoul · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **NorthernSoul** on Fri Apr 13, 2012 4:04 am

The wave swept up the sand and when it slipped back down again, there was a shape on the waterline that hadn't been there a few moments previously. Grace crept further out along the branch, her knuckles white. She stayed there for a long time, straining her eyes in the dim light, willing the grainy bundle of rags to coalesce into something better formed. It was difficult to tell what exactly it was; it might be a sack, like the one she'd woven out of palm fibres, filled with something. Perhaps food. It might not even be ruined after several hours at sea. Or it might be the corpse of whatever had given rise to that light far out across the bay.

Not daring to venture out to where it might be able to see her, she remained where she was, mostly concealed by the foliage of the tree, goosebumps standing out on her skin now it was exposed to the breeze.

Suddenly it moved. First the smallest of shivers, so subtle that Grace was not sure if she'd really seen it or if her eyes were simply beginning to grow tired after a night of vigilance. Then a shudder, an audible gasp that made her retreat back towards the heart of the tree, and it painstakingly got up. Got up. She knew of no other creature that stood like that; back straight on its two hind feet.

Except herself.

She watched, her eyes wide and her heart drumming a rhythm so loud and fast that it made her dizzy, as the thing staggered a few steps forward. It was now obvious that it was wearing something that, whilst far less practical, was not dissimilar to the clothes that Grace had fashioned for herself. This simple observation shocked her even more than the fact that the creature could stand on its back legs. It too had taken something from nature and manipulated it to suit itself, just as Grace had. Perhaps it too had sat and thought about which animal would have the best-shaped hide for such a purpose, perhaps it too had spent hours scraping down the skin, perhaps it too had bled when it had caught its own flesh on the stone tool it had used. A rush of empathy spread through her and she very nearly leapt from the tree and ran down to the beach to meet it. It was only a deeply engrained caution that had kept her alive for all these years that prevented her from doing so. And when the thing turned to the other side of the beach and bellowed out a cracked foreign call that sent birds screeching from the nearby trees, she was glad she hadn't.

She had time, after all. She could wait and watch.

Seven miles to the east, the hull of the row-boat finally shuddered to a stop and Captain Fineas Olton exhaled.

"Out you get!" he said, his voice rasping with effort. He clambered over the side and his boots, already sodden, splashed in the shallows. "You can rest when your dead. And thank your lucky stars you're not."

With only grunts and gritted teeth, the last survivors of The Lady Misery- eight men minus the one of them bleeding out in the bottom of the boat from a six-inch splinter in his thigh- pulled their saviour up over the rocky beach to a hollow in the little cliff that would be their resting place until morning. The injured man wouldn't make it through the night.

Modesty · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Modesty** on Sat Apr 28, 2012 2:10 pm

Three long heartbeats passed with no reply. His heart pounded in his ears, seemingly in slow motion. Each second crept by imbedding a word into his skin: alone. He wasn’t sure why he waited, though any hope that might have been evaporated. Not even an echo returned to him, lending no comfort in its absence. Calloused hands ran through salt ridden hair, eyes closing to gather his thoughts and quell the rising panic. Stay calm, he told himself, make a plan.

Gain your bearings. Hazel eyes opened, looking to the sky. Crimson crept away from the sun, playing pinks and violets across the clouds. Red sky in the morning, sailors take warning. If only they had known that last night, perhaps he wouldn’t be stranded. Aedan took night to the sunrise being on his left, giving him his directional location on the island. Even if he was lost at sea, he’d have to navigate the land if he was to survive. The debris for the shipwreck was washing up on the northeastern side of the island where he was. He mentally charted it incase he needed to return.

Take inventory. He stumbled along the shoreline, looking through anything that littered the beach. Items that would come in handy later included smashed wood, bits of rope and torn sail. He was surprised at just how much wreckage there was. Vision shifted, just for a moment, out to the water. He watched the waves peak a little bit out, marking where a coral reef was. The Lady Misery must have smashed against it, and this was what was left. Shells also lined the sand, promising a food source if things were scarce inland. That was, if he could manage to create a fire… it was dangerous eating raw seafood, there was no telling what kind of bacteria or toxins were in the area.

Find water. He licked his lips, already a little chapped. The sailor’s mouth was dry, suddenly aware of his thirst. Despite the ocean that surrounded the island, water would be his number one concern. Drinking salt water was the worst thing he could do. The salt would dehydrate him and he’d be dead in just a few days. If he could find way to make fire, he could boil the saline out of it, but in the mean time he’d have find some that wash already fresh and drinkable. This caused vision to shift to the jungle behind him; it was the most likely source of water. This thought in mind he changed course and headed for the thick green.

Get shelter. The fourth requirement for survival popped in to his mind as he broke the edge of the shade. A coolness swept over him the let out an audible sigh. The dense canopy of the jungle was more than enough for shelter for now. Later, if the rains came, he’d have to grab some of the drift and build a lean-to. For now, he prioritized water and pressed on.

A screech set him on edge, and he found himself reaching for his belt. The cool feel of steal and rough texture of wood was his result. While the cruel and unpredictable sea and taken his ship and fellow crewmates, it had left him with his fishing knife. It wasn’t much, but he thanked whatever God was listening for the small fortune.

NorthernSoul · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **NorthernSoul** on Thu May 03, 2012 3:59 pm

The thing walked on unsteady legs down the beach, seemingly searching for something in the debris that was washing up on the sand. Perhaps it was looking for another of its kind (Grace's heard leapt in fear and excitement at the idea that there might be more than one other like herself), or perhaps it wasn't looking for anything in particular at all. It spent a few minutes picking out a long vine, a few pieces of smashed wood and a strange white hide. But soon it gave up and abruptly changed course, heading straight for the forest that grew back from the beach.

Unknowingly, it walked immediately beneath Grace's tree and she instinctively tensed, keeping every muscle exactly still and pressed into the crook of the tree. She even held her breath, though there was no possibility he could hear it from all the way down there, and the normal sounds of the jungle seemed to grew louder in her effortful silence. The chatter of birds further along the beach, the rustle of leaves and the impossibly unsubtle steps of the thing below her. Whatever it was, it was not used to walking in the trees and it didn't even seem to notice that every heavy footfall disturbed every creature within twenty yards. However did it hunt, if it didn't even know how to move quietly?

It walked past Grace's tree and continued a little way into the jungle. Now it was closer, its shape was dislodging long-buried memories from the depths of her mind. Although it was the same kind as her, it was also different. It had angles and planes where she had curves and it was larger than she would ever be, no matter how hard she hunted. It had stubble on its face, where she had never grown hair and the call it had made had been in a far deeper voice than her own. Man, somewhere something said. He. Like but unalike.

She let him go on ahead until he was almost completely out of sight before silently slithering down the tree and landing in the sandy soil at its base. He was making so much noise and pushing through the undergrowth with so little regard for his trail that he would be easy to track. And so, keep low and taking care never to venture too close, she followed him through the jungle. She had an idea of what he might now be searching for; she had never seen an animal that could do without it, after all. Water.

And he was moving in the right direction for it too. Around half a mile from the beach, a small but fast-flowing stream that was fed by the rains higher up the mountain had gouged out a funnel-like gorge in the rocky cliffs were set back from the bay. The end result was a waterfall, about thirty feet high, that plunged into a deep pool where fat black fish darted in amongst the rocks. The pool spilled out into another stream that wound its way through the undergrowth, taking a circuitous route down to the ocean around the outcrop to the furthest east of the beach. Knowing that he would soon come across the pool, Grace split away from his path and circled round so she could watch him from the vantage point of the rocks to one side of the waterfall, high above the spreading foam.

Modesty · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Modesty** on Sun May 06, 2012 3:53 am

Whatever foreign beast has screeched didn’t emerge. While nothing became visible from the thick jungle that surrounded the sailor his hand didn’t stray from the knife on his belt. Whatever was there, just beyond the vines and leaves, was still watching. He could feel it, it’s eyes on him. Perhaps the only man on the island, but he definitely wasn’t alone. Either that or the sun had gotten to him. Hilt in hand, he proceeded, pushing blindly through the undergrowth.

Instead of thinning, the green just stopped. Emerald gave way to silver and sapphire, a lake spilling out before him. Lips parted, suddenly slack jawed at the unexpected sight. Vision swept from pool to stream, and then back. Eyes trailed upstream, against the current, to the waterfall that began at the top of the cliff face. A silhouette perched atop the rock. He blinked and it was gone. Fingers gripped the knife tighter.

“Hello, ahoy!” Baritones called out, again, and listened to it echo against the rock. Birds took flight from trees, but that was the only response that was given in return. Dehydration, sun sickness, they could all lay blame to such paranoia, he reasoned and glanced down at the pool.

The stone was cool and hard against his legs as he kneeled at the pool’s edge. Dry, calloused hands cupped together to bring water to his lips. Reason cautioned to find a way to boil the water first to prevent dysentery from contamination, but thirst was stronger. Clean water poured past his lips and he thanked the stars that it was fresh and cold. Aedan could feel the icy liquid trace it’s way down his throat to his stomach and it was only then that he noticed the humidity.

The air was thick, hot and sweltering. Already, from such a short trek, he was soaked to the bone with sweat. Peeling his tattered shirt from his well-worked body, and keeping blade close to hand, he gave into more primal urges and dove into the water. The cold shocked him, waking him up and re-energizing him. It was a good way to life his spirits despite currently dismal circumstances of being stranded. Upon resurfacing he noticed the fish that darted around him, un-shy and clearly unbothered by the presence of others.

Well that solves food and water.

A shadow cast over the sparkling pool drew his attention. It had been a moment from the corner of his eye, but it was there again. The paranoia crept over him again. Despite his attempts of calling out he had received no response. But Aedan was never the man to wait for conflict to find him. Leaving shirt on wetted stone, the sailor began to climb the rock face in search of the cause of the shadow, determined to be predator and not prey.

NorthernSoul · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **NorthernSoul** on Sun May 06, 2012 3:42 pm

Grace arrived at the rocky outcrop to the east of the mouth of the waterfall just in time to see the newcomer stoop to hastily scoop water into his mouth. She watched as he gasped at the obvious refreshment it gave him and then stood to peel off the strange flimsy hide from the top half of his body before diving into the deep pool.

Keeping low, her fingers gripping the spray-moistened rock tightly, she crept close to the edge of the rock to watch his dark shadow fly beneath the water, lost for a few moments in the bubbles, before surfacing a few yards away. Now she could see him properly, it was clear that he too must have to hunt like she did for his body was lean and tightly-muscled. But it was not as tanned as hers and there were sun-reddened borders to the colouring of his skin at his neck and his forearms. Perhaps it was from the hide he wore, perhaps he came from a nearby island where the sun did not shine as brightly as it did here...

Occupied by this particular thought, she almost didn't see him quickly shift his gaze upwards, towards the outcrop that the top of the waterfall cut through. Her eyes widening, she rapidly flung herself backwards, out of sight. Had he seen her? The rock was cool against her back as she pressed herself against it, her breath quick and her heart thudding in her ears as she dared herself to return to the edge to see what the stranger would do next. After a few moments, she inched cautiously back towards the open air and was astonished to find that he had begun to scale the rocks that would lead to the top of the waterfall. But not to where Grace was hidden. No, he'd seen something else and was heading to the western side of the rock face.

Frozen in confusion, she followed his determined gaze in an attempt to divine what had drawn his attention. There was nothing there but water-slick rock, moss growing from its crevices and...

The silent sway of a mottled tail disappearing into the foliage. A forest cat!

Biting her lip, she remained where she was for a few seconds. All her instincts were telling her to run. She had only ever taken on one of the cats that stalked the higher parts of the island on two occasions. The first time, she had bested it with her best spear and only a shallow scratch across her belly in return, though the cat in question couldn't have been much older than a couple of years- almost a cub really. The second time, she'd had a narrow valley of flesh gouged out from her thigh and had only survived by making it to the beach where she'd lain feverish and near-death for almost a week. She was upwind now; it hadn't yet smelt her and was undoubtedly stalking the unsuspecting man scaling the rocks in foolish curiosity. If she left, darted back into the trees and made for her cave a couple of miles away, she'd be safe. The newcomer would not.

Decision made, she started forward, jumping sure-footed from rock to rock, splashing in the shallows just feet away from where the stream tumbled down into the pool below. Meanwhile, the forest cat- three foot high at its shoulder and concealed by black and golden dappled fur in the low bushes- crouched, ready to pounce on its unwitting prey.

Modesty · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Modesty** on Fri May 25, 2012 2:00 am

Calloused fingers deftly found nooks in the rocks that would serve as handholds. Muscles, toned with years of strenuous work, lifted the full grown male agilely up the face of the cliff. If fingertips slipped on slimey algae from the water that trickled away from the main fall he was quick to catch himself, correcting the pattern to advance upwards. The climb, nearly vertical, came easily. The height didn’t worry the sailor either. Many an hour he had spent climbing masts and rope ladders, and this rock didn’t sway the way The Lady Misery’s did in the tempests at sea. Not much time had elapsed since a flicker of shadow had been cast on him below, and already Aedan neared the top. Hands found the ledge, strong arms pulling himself above.

Caution drove him, tensing at the sudden silence. The birds, the strange and foreign sounds that had been echoing at him through the jungle trek, had stopped. He found himself reaching for his knife at his belt again, and when the hilt was comfortingly in his hand it all happened at once. The rushing of the falls came back to him, but there was a noise that drew his attention. Splashing, something heading towards him. Vision turned to see a human figure, lean and curvaceous as only a woman could be. The sailor hadn’t had time to question her, though many came to mind. As lips parted to greet, and hand loosed on hilt, there was another sound that drew his gaze.

There was a snapping of twigs and a vicious snarl. Hazel eyes turned in time to see a great cat with mottled pelt lunging from disguised covering. Chivalry took hold and Aedan had notion to protect the woman who was foolishly running towards them. From his point of view, he’d arrived just in time to intercept the cat from preying on hapless femme. The women he had met were hardly worth opponents to fearsome jungle cats, but rather vulnerable flowers bound in lace and perfume.

“Watch out!” He called, drawing his blade in one swift motion. He pressed the flat side of the blade tight against his wrist to avoid accidently slicing himself. The blonde and bronze foreigner pushed himself forward, meeting cat full force in mid air. While Aedan had the weight advantage, barely, the cat had compulsion, and the result had sent both feline and man tumbling. Upon differentiating sky from stone, strong arms lashed out with blade at cat. The tiger-like beast had same idea, striking with sharp claws. Both hunter and hunted, each with different ideas of who was what, struck home and retreated momentarily.

A gash dripped thick blood, though nothing inhabilitating, across the cats rippling chest. It paced, waiting for another chance to strike. The feline’s opponent suffered a similar wound, wide though shallow, tore tanned flesh on his shoulder. Aedan grimaced, though ignored pain. His arm was outstretched, blocking the female from the cat’s path. He tossed his knife, catching it to get a better grip as he waited for the next move.

NorthernSoul · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **NorthernSoul** on Thu Jun 14, 2012 5:25 pm

Grace watched in astonishment and frustration as the stranger purposefully blocked her path and met the leap of the forest cat half-way. He must have been carrying a weapon because something- much like the hard cold material that could sometimes be found, corroded and rusting, beneath the sand of the beach- glinted in his hand. The man and the forest cat grappled each other for a few seconds in the shallow water of the stream before separating, each having landed its blow. The cat was snarling, back arched, moving awkwardly and slipping a little across the rocks as blood was smeared across its pelt. The man had a four-clawed gash across his shoulder which was leaching blood down his back.

He was breathing heavily, clearly in pain, and yet he was still preventing her from reaching the cat! What was wrong with him? Did he not think she looked like a good hunter?

Making sure her grip on her flint (which had appeared in her hand as soon as she'd glimpsed the forest cat) was true, she crept away from the pair, each circling the other with injured desperation. Silently, she scaled the nearby rock-face which formed the next step up the little chain of waterfalls and clambered from boulder to boulder until she was almost directly over where the forest cat paced. Gritting her teeth, she leapt.

She glanced off its back, sending it sprawling into the shallows whilst she caught her balance on the rock. A beat later, she slashed her flint at the creature's neck and felt its flesh give way beneath it. The forest cat flinched violently, instinctively scrabbling away from its new attacker and in doing so sent its back legs straight over the side of the waterfall. With a strangled roar, it tumbled off the side of the rock, landing with a splash below before it was lost in the foam that rose up from the plunge pool. Grace crouched at the edge, searching for some sign that the cat had perished but there was nothing... No surfacing body, no injured animal limping away into the forest.

Suddenly remembering she was not alone, she stood up abruptly then began to back away from the stranger, grey eyes wide in her grubby face.

Modesty · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Modesty** on Sat Jun 16, 2012 2:58 am

Aedan leaned forward, pushing his weight to the balls of his feet. His boots twisted in the sediment, rocking from side to side as he readied himself for another attack. The blood that seeped down his back was drying in the sweltering heat, making his skin sticky and stiff. It was instinct that was driving him, and physique that was giving him a passing mark. While the sailor had been in his fair share of brawls, life in the ropes hadn’t even grazed how to handle a wild cat. His tongue swept across his lips, tasting the salt from his sweat and the dirt from his last tussle. A deep breath was drawn as muscles tensed for round two.

Movement caught his eye, stopping him in his tracks. The strange woman whom he had been attempting to protect was a few feet above and off to the side. It took half a second to contemplate how she had seemingly teleported away from him, and another half a second more to yell out in protest as she leapt from the rock face. She was a mad woman. Antsy and concerned, he paced as the female and the cat duked it out. It seemed like only seconds past, counted by the heart that was drumming out a fast rhythm in his chest, and the cat’s throat was slit.

As the feline retreated over the edge, Aedan found himself scrambling after it. Hazel eyes watched the beast plummet. It sunk, and he couldn’t see it resurface. He frowned, a curse word mumbled beneath heavy breath. The pelt was beautiful, the fine ladies at home would have paid him a few months salary to have a coat made from the gold and black that wasn’t native to their lands. Alas, it had been lost. Pity. Not that he had a way home at the moment, or even knew where he was at the moment.

Realization dawned on him as he watched the rippling water below. He just had his ass saved by a woman, and while he was trying to keep her out of harms way as well. While Aedan was more than good-natured, it stung the pride a little. Still, he laughed it off., claiming an assist. “You know, I wounded it for you…”

He rose, stepping back from the edge. As he turned he favoured the wounded shoulder, offering a smile to hint at the joke. It was then he saw the wide-eyed look that reminded him of a cornered animal. His hand rose, as if to calm her, after sheathing his knife. “Okay, bad joke. Relax. I guess I owe you a thank-you. No, don’t go. Please.”

He was babbling. Between short, varied trains of thoughts he was able to assess the stranger a little better. Female she was, indeed, but nothing like the women at home. The word ‘feral’ came to mind. From her knotted hair to less-than-modest clothing, to make shift weapon it was clear that he wasn’t going to find civilization anywhere. The foreignness of the island suddenly sunk in. It was a different land full of different beliefs, and a different kind of people. In the hour or so that he had been conscious among it all he’d already managed to get himself wounded. Brilliant.

If she’s here there must be others, he rationalized, though he wasn’t certain. It was the newly realized comparison between them, and the frightened look on her face, that made him unsure if she even understood him.

NorthernSoul · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **NorthernSoul** on Mon Jun 25, 2012 3:51 pm

So focused was she on the man's movements as he staggered to his feet and stepped towards her, it took Grace a few moments to realise he was making a sound at her.

Talking. The concept dawned in her mind like a sunrise and she was suddenly struck impotent by her inability to respond or even understand what he was trying to communicate to her. She opened her mouth to say something but closed it again, frowning as she attempted to glean some meaning from his body language. He bared his teeth at her briefly but instinctively she knew this did not carry with it the same threat that it did in other animals. She did the same sometimes; when she stepped into the cool shallows on the hottest of days or when the breeze carried the sent of jasmine up to her favourite spot on the rocky outcrop above her cave. She'd even done it in sheer surprise when she'd once lost her footing and tripped head-first into the plunge pool of this very waterfall when she was younger.

But she felt too uncertain to return the expression and listened instead to the sounds he made. There were a few that reverberated softly in the depths of her memory; etched so deeply that years of solitude from human contact had been unable to wear them away completely. Their meaning was irrevocably linked to their sound, just as the warning call of the black-winged birds in the canopy above meant danger. I. You. Thank you.

But the rest of them... They could mean anything. He was grateful to her for saving them from the forest cat, perhaps, but that was all she could guess. Despite this, the sounds he made were pleasant coming from his lips. His voice was deeper and somehow richer than hers and it was this difference that was almost intoxicating. And yet the thrill of the immediacy of something, someone, that was not only like herself but spoke things that she was on the cusp of understanding overpowered everything else.

"Pl-ease," she repeated cautiously, her voice sounding immensely foreign to her own ears. Her hand still gripped her flint knife but her stance relaxed, just a little.

"I," she said. Then the word she had always known, the only one she could recall without prompt. She placed a fingertip to her sternum. "Grace."

Modesty · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Modesty** on Wed Jul 11, 2012 2:36 pm

It was the rasp in her voice that dashed all dreams of nearby civilization. The dry sound that tinged with her awkward words reminded him of his time at home, or on board a vessel when he’d not spoken for days. The first words were always hoarse and foreign, like hers were now. It was coupled by the look of utter confusion on her face as she tried to decipher the unknown language he was speaking—no, babbling—at her. He inhaled sharply to sooth the bubbling panic that threatened to rise within his stomach, swallowing.

As green eyes watched the woman he saw her visibly relax. And while weapon was still firmly gripped in her skilled hands, he knew that for the moment they were safe. She seemed captivated by his ability to speak, a thought that was foreign to him. Was she a wildling? A native to the island not yet discovered by civilized people? But no, she had managed some of his own vocabulary. Three words, despite their awkwardness, had been understood. His mood sobered slightly, though cautiously as to not alarm her.

“Well, yes you were graceful… and fearsome.” He stopped himself. While he somehow doubted that the woman knew manners, like how rude boasting was for a female, he still didn’t think that was the meaning. Vision trailed down to the finger on her breast, pointing at her heart. Understanding dawned.

“Oh, your name!” He exclaimed, then stopped again. A hand rose, wiping sweat and stress from face as he thought how to handle the obvious barrier that was between them. It was then that David came to mind, his young nephew that he had so seldom seen. He recalled in early years that he simplified vocabulary for the toddler to understand more readily, easing into more advanced dictation. The same tactic seemed to apply to the situation. While paragraphs of questions, endless words wanted to tumble forth from chapped lips, the woman didn’t currently appear to have the capacity for such conversation.

He stepped closer, pointing at her chest, enunciating clearly and carefully. “You. Grace.”

Then, the sailor turned his hand on himself, pressing calloused finger against his own shirtless chest. “I. Aedan.”

He still favoured his shoulder. While the blood had begun to coagulate, aided by hot temperature and fresh air against wound, he couldn’t help but worry about the possibility of infection. He somehow doubted the beast that had attached him worried about the cleanliness of it’s claws. When time was appropriate he would have to climb back down to the beach and hope that medical supplies had made it ashore. It was a long shot at best. And, although the water had waited him some, hunger still gnawed at stomach.

NorthernSoul · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **NorthernSoul** on Mon Jul 30, 2012 4:52 pm

The stranger said something she didn't comprehend, having apparently not understood her when she had attempted to tell him her name. Perhaps she'd used the words wrong after all. But then they seemed so simple and they'd come from some inner core so deep she'd barely realised it still existed before she'd spoken them aloud. Or perhaps his kind didn't have an individual word for each of themselves. But wasn't that something universal? She had somehow assumed that it was. But then, the trees did not call themselves anything and she was fairly sure the forest cats did not refer to each other in that same way.

She frowned and was about to back away when the expression on his face changed and he uttered another word she knew the meaning of. Name. Yes, that was it. Grace was her name.

And the newcomer gave her his.

"Aay-den," Grace said experimentally. "Aeden." The syllables felt strange and foreign on her tongue but after a few more repetitions she could say them in much the same manner as he. It was as solid name, as steadfast as rock, and it reminded her of the sound of her footsteps on the compacted earth inside the cave; aay-den aay-den.

Suddenly noticing the stiff way in which he'd pressed his finger to his chest, her eyes widened and she gestured to his shoulder. He must be in pain, for she was certain he could feel pain just as she could. And the wound should be cleaned before it could turn bad; as had happened the second time she'd encountered a forest cat. Then she'd had to cut away some of the flesh from her leg for fear it would poison the rest of it. Better that she not let that happen to the stranger- to Aeden; now that he was here, whatever the reason, she didn't want him to leave her alone again so soon.

She'd never considered it before but she was now aware that she had been alone, simply by the contrast his company upon the time before he arrived. It was an unsettling concept and she almost resented it, but she could not deny it now.

"Come," she said, turning and stepping towards the tree-line, in the direction of the cave in the rocky outcrop that loomed out of the centre of the island. She glanced over her shoulder to check he was following her and that she'd spoken a word with the right meaning. "Come, Aeden."

It took them thirty minutes to reach the cave; far longer than it would have usually done for Grace, but Aeden was seemingly unused to the dark maze-like paths through the trees and to the roots that threatened to trip him at every step. The entrance was a narrow crack in the rock that opened out into a much larger space, about the size of a drawing room, was was dimly lit by the light that filtered through. Grace moved about it in as if in broad daylight and she found the fire-stick on the shelf of rock to one side of the cave just as she'd left it. Within a few moments, a tuft of dried moss began to smoke and a weak flame cast a flickering light upon the walls. Gently, Grace set it down on the earth and began to arrange branches over it so that they would catch alight. Pausing in her efforts, she looked up at Aeden and pointed first to his shoulder then to the shadows at the back of the cave.

"Water," she said, meaning that he could wash the wound with the ice-cold water that bubbled up from a spring below the rock then trickled down through another crack on the far side of the cave, emerging two miles to the west as a stream that snaked through the trees.

Paradise Lost

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