Has it really been 6 and a half years? Six and a half years in Paradise? In Hell? On the Ark…
I woke up in a fervor, confused, warmer than I’d ever been, the Sun bearing down on me… 6 Years ago, I thought I was in a dream, a bad alchemical reaction, some sorcery of another Skilled Alchemist… Separated from all Alchemical power for six and a half years, I know now that is not the case.
I contemplated for a long time; “Is this punishment for my many transgressions against mankind? Was it my pursuit of God that cast me down?
The lore of the Ark has shown us otherwise. In the Town of Rocinante, there seems to be no rhyme of reason for the selection of such souls to be cast away. And despite surviving, we know not the exact purpose of our nature here.
There are writings scattered around the island, they stem from four other survivors, seemingly lost to time, often found in ruins of various size and design. They range from Journals to dossiers on the various animals found here. The writings of these four have been particularly helpful in our scope of technology and architecture we use in town.
I share my journal here in hopes that, should I perish permanently, my account of the rise of the Rocinante Tribe may serve as a guide to all those who would be cast into the Ark after.
If I was proud of my hut before, now I realized how solely fit for one it was. Here, Esther and I had no room to sleep, not that we wished to be apart, only that we wished for more comfort. And where I had been content to survive, having the essentials, Esther added to my to-do list considerably.
She always wanted to venture further than I did. Even recounting the story of my arm and the piranha did not frighten her, but only made her more resolved in my strength; leaving the purpose of me telling her about it, lost.
She forever toiled with the quality of my tools. She had sharpened my axe, replaced and strengthened the handle on my pickaxe, and turned what she called my “pointy stick” into a real spear, complete with a stone blade, far sharper than anything I had found so far. I was only surprised and impressed until one day, I sat upon a rock outside of the small hut, and was interrupted while cleaning my fingernails, as an arrow came flying low past my legs and slid through the side of the hut.
“Drat! Ash, I need you to show me how to shoot this thing!” she called to me some distance behind, brandishing a bow.
“Where did you get that?” I asked, jumping to my feet.
“Get?! I made it! I can’t believe you hadn’t tried to make one beforehand!” she retorted hottly.
“I can’t either!” I moved towards her.
“Its wood from the elm tree down the way, a somewhat young branch,” she handed me the bow, “and its just the fiber, twisted into string and-” I cut her off.
“It’s very good,” I said, testing the string, “It’s pretty tight.”
“Well keep it, I’m working on a better one,” she said finally, “I’m not sure how long that will really last though, it’s just a branch, and that’s not how bows are really made.”
“How are you making arrows?” I inquired.
“They’re miniature pointy sticks,” she jeered.
“Ha ha,” I smirked back. And with an air of victory announced, “Then I have the better of you,”
“How so?” she said puzzled.
“I know how to make arrows,” I said retrieving the arrow from the hut wall.
“Well show me then,” she stated.
I grabbed a small piece of flint, sharp and as close to arrow-head shaped as I could find, and I grabbed some fiber. I took the axe and made small notches on each side of the shaft of her arrow and lobbed off the sharp end. I placed the flint on the end, then took the fiber and lashed it around the flint, alternating between the flint, crossing to the notches I made until it was sturdy. Then I nocked the arrow, drew and released across to the beam support on the hut.
It’s fairly accurate. That, or I am.
“See, that’s what I want to do! Show me!” she insisted, and her first lesson began.
In my experience, women were generally much better at aiming; more-so the muscle memory and body mechanics, but not always in judging distance. She was very quick to learn a proper form for shooting, and I had no doubt she would be a great asset on hunts when, if ever, the time came we must move together.
Today, she became restless, aiming to stake out further away from camp, to explore. No words could make her understand the danger the unknown here possesses.
“This place is not big enough, and we’ll need stronger trees. Are you so content here?”
“Why not expand here?” I argued.
“The bushes here do not grow back overnight, and every time you’ve went out to hunt, do you not have to venture further out?” her irritation rising, “What are you so afraid of?”
“Here, I can protect you!” I begged, “Out there, I am not sure I can! We don’t know what’s out there!”
“Then let us find out! Together.” she affirmed.
“You want to see? You want to see what’s out there? Why do you not understand that I worry about your safety?”
“I want to see for myself!” she exclaimed, “I’m not afraid if I’m with you.”
My compromise was to go hunting together. We encountered yet another cowled venom spewing dino, and before it could spit anything, it was overcome with arrows. It;s body lay practically undamaged, fore it had arrows laid unto its skull, 5 of them. The last two that brought it down were luck, really, as we loosed them while it coiled and violently writhed from the first three. We ate well, and my confidence grew, but the successful hunt did not make things easier.
“See?! We don’t need to be afraid together. We weren’t even in danger. Let’s find a better spot!” she seemed to revel.
I have succeeded in convincing Asher we need to find a better place to live. Today we set out. We crossed the inlet right beside our hut and ventured up a hill. There was a cliff face at the top of the hill and Asher said he would like to build a watch tower at the top. After we passed the top of the hill we entered into some trees. The brush wasn’t too thick and we followed a game trail that meandered through the trees. “This is so exciting!” I exclaimed! Asher just grunted in response. He was trying to look everywhere at once, looking for any possible threats and his lack of enthusiasm irked me.
We walked for a few minutes when we started to hear heavy footsteps that Asher couldn’t identify.
“We need to move faster!” Asher exclaimed.
“You don’t even know if that sound is a threat,” I said crossly although with a hushed voice.
We picked up the pace quite a bit but the tread of the footfalls never seemed to change pace or get closer or farther away. Asher was tense. I tried to keep as quiet as I could and moved as quickly as possible and made it to a river without seeing our mystery fellow traveler.
As we left the trees we stopped short, staring into the sky.
“Oh my word, what is that?” I ejaculated.
“I have no idea” Asher still whispered but this time in amazement rather than fear.
There was a giant obelisk floating in the sky. It looked so foreign to our surroundings we couldn’t understand what we were seeing. There was a beam of red light that shown down from it and red lights gleamed out from all sides. I couldn’t believe we had never noticed the lights before.
“We have to get over there. There might be other people there. We might not be alone!” Asher sounded more excited than I had seen him since he discovered me on this island. I felt curious about it but for the first time a little wary. We didn’t know anything about why we were here and strangely I was afraid of the possibility that we might find out. I agreed that we needed to keep moving forward but I couldn’t match his enthusiasm at the sight of the obelisk. We crossed the river and started down the opposite river bank in our quest to get closer to the obelisk.
As we walked down the beach we suddenly heard footfalls again but this time they moved quicker and were accompanied by a roar. We looked ahead and saw the biggest creature we had seen yet. It wasn’t as wide as the triceratops that was Asher’s first companion on this island but it was taller with two small horns on its head, small arms that seemed to hang back almost uselessly, but strong legs that were carrying it quickly towards us.
We needed cover and immediately turned inland and forced our way up a hill. We moved at top speeds through the brush and didn’t stop until I tripped over a branch and Asher whispered to stay down and stay still as we listened for any pursuit. We heard the footsteps again but it didn’t sound like they had followed us.
“That was too close” Asher whispered hoarsely as we tried to recover from exertion and adrenaline.
“But we reacted quickly. We just have to stay vigilant and that’s so much easier with the two of us here.” My gasping sentences may not have comforted Asher but I was still feeling that I would rather face the dangers of the wild than find what civilization had settled this land. However, I didn’t feel like I could explain my fears to Asher especially as they seemed foolish compared to the real danger we just escaped. “Let’skeep moving.”
At the top of the hill, I saw it. It was our new home. There was a stream that flowed through a meadow. The stream became a double waterfall and then joined the river we just crossed. I could see so much potential here. We were close enough to trees to be able to easily gather wood or hunt but there was plenty of space so we could see if any danger approached. It was perfect.
“Asher stop”, I called.
“But I can see the obelisk again. We are even closer. We could find real beds. Real food. Maybe even showers!” he argued.
“Asher, we are closer but could we reach it before night? We don’t know, and shouldn’t we stop at a defensible location and make camp before night brings out new dangers?” Playing on his cautious nature, I convinced him to put off any more travel for now and to see what we could make of this new place.
Yesterday my new life began. I say new life because I know I have not always lived on this island, but what life I lived prior to yesterday is a mystery. There are wisps of something else on the edges of my mind but I cannot grasp them. They will not reveal themselves.
My Asher is here. He is my protector, my beloved, my home. He found me when I awoke on that beach. I can feel that he is a connection to before. He is part of me.
He tells me he has been here for 40 days. 40 days of uncertainty. 40 days of survival. 40 days without me. He brought me to a house he built; a place of safety in this savage land.
Something about this place feels temporary. I don’t know if it is my mind unable to accept this place or if the remnants of what I knew before are trying to push through this fog in my head.
All I know is that I slept in his arms last night. He comforted me. The relief I felt when I saw his face was more than I was able to handle and I succumbed to the shock and stress.
After a much better night’s rest than would seem possible Asher and I began to discuss our situation. We are here. He has survived and now we must try to make the best of what this land has to offer.
He has told me about the hunt for meat, and constant danger. The struggle for basic shelter and clothing. Now that I am here we will be able to accomplish more. Four hands can do much that two alone can not. We begin planning and I am reminded of Asher’s love of lists. He has used charcoal and a light colored boulder to record his goals. Our first order of business is to find a better way to hunt then we will improve our shelter.
I am excited to be working with Asher and moving forward with our goals. He is wary. He has scars on his arm. Asher says not even the water is safe. Maybe we will balance each other out. My eagerness and impulsiveness and his caution and planning.
It was strange, it’s as though I felt it. That morning, I awoke softly, as though I had never been asleep, no need to wipe sleep from my eyes or even stretch. I arose and looked up out of my hut to the morning sky, colorful, stretching from blue, to brown, to red, for the first time, I saw what looked like a shooting star.
The difference, is that this did not streak across the sky and dissipate, but instead made direct connection towards the ground far off to the East.
That was a person! Someone joining me!
I leapt from the hut and grabbed my spear, sheathed the axe along a belt I had fashioned, and dashed down the beach in its general direction. It seemed to land South-East enough that I would hopefully locate it by straddling the beach. The trees and forest had proved to reveal the most dangerous sort of creatures.
The gator I had slain which killed Lyssa proved very useful. Not only was there a lot of meat to cook, but its hide provided ample stretches of skin to form into rough pants that were closer to capris. The shirt I fashioned probably resembled more like armor, stretched across me in panels.
The gator-skin outfit also seemed to slide through the water better than cotton or cloth would, not weighing me down as I swam quickly directly across the treacherous waters. The sting-rays left me alone and I hadn’t seen a piranha on this side yet.
I emerged on the beach and sprinted. There was no telling the frame of mind the person would be in as they came to, nor the danger they would spawn around.
I passed the odd chickens along the way, the massive tortoises, downed trees and seagulls who look like they might dive at me.
A good 5 minutes into my run, I was winded. I stopped to catch my breath, keeping my eyes out along the tree-line all the while. And I realized the landscape was changing. In the direction I was headed, large boulders, rocks, jagged and piercing into the sky, dotted the beach which would begin to stretch out before me in a long strip, water on either side, an even larger rocky structure protruding up wide in the distance, slightly obscured by the morning fog.
I proceeded along my route to where I imagined the star or meteor would have landed. My first instinct that it was a person being transported was hopeful, and I realized as I moved along, alone, that it was doubtful at best.
The large stone structure in the back had come into view and it was not simply a stone, but it also could not have been man-made; it was a number of long flat stones, some in a long vertical pillar, jutting into the sky, some on their side or slightly askew, others lying high in the air, flat between two of the large jagged stones. The center laid bare, sand and sunlight strewn through the gap between the rocks. It reminded me of a sundial in ways and I looked for deeper meaning while I stood there examining it…
Coincidence.
Off in the distance, where the beach ended, between two large boulders, I heard a cough. Distinct and not like any of the animals I’d heard; human.
Invigorated, I left the faux sundial and came out to the beach between the rocks, looking around.
Only beach to my right, and to my left, a woman, sitting on the beach, as naked as I had been with under-garments made of the same material I had come-to in. He hair was blonde it seemed, as it was cut very short. She sat huddled, her knees close to her chest, looking out at the water. I caught a better glimpse of her profile as she rotated her gaze slightly to her right.
Esther…
Seeing me in her peripheral, her eyes caught mine and she got to her feet very fast. My heart swelled and we only stood, frozen in disbelief for a moment.
“Esther,” was all I uttered.
“Asher?” she muttered and as it escaped her lips, her knees began to give and I rushed forward to meet her. She had fainted. I chortled as I drew close to her side, it was adorable, really.
You silver-tongued Devil, you. I thought to myself and smiled.
I sat next to her and fanned her face, letting myself be mesmerized by her delicate features as I waited for her to regain consciousness.
She awoke a moment later and looked up at me, first confused and weak, then strong and with a smile.
“Asher,” she said, soft and sweet.
I kissed her deep and crude, for I had not shaven in 40 days.
“Come, let’s get home. It’s not safe here,” saying as I helped her to her feet.
“What do you mean, home? Where are we?” she questioned.
“We can talk about it all when we’re safe. I have quite the tale for you,” I fed her as I moved back along the beach, leading her to safety. The swelling feeling in my heart had not diluted in the slightest, I was no longer alone, and the one person I longed to have at my side, was here. Her safety, paramount.
A testament to my old religion, and an inability to craft anything better, I set a cross in a cairn of small stones in memorial to Lyssa overlooking the endless water stretching away from the spot where I had first come to.
I was definitely lonely. The small company Lyssa provided was company regardless. A companion I had not had, someone truly by my side. Now, I only had my revenge to keep me company; keeping an eye on the gator each day, building my contraption, and running over my plan over and over again in my mind.
Today I would enact it.
I stalked along the ridge, my eye looking for the dark ominous mass sliding beneath the water. I stood above the patch of land where it had taken Lyssa and did not see it.
It’s usually around here… Frustrating. Time to look for it from the second vantage point.
A bit further down the ridge I saw it emerge from the water at the bank and have one of the oddly-shaped chickens as a snack. It was not close enough to either vantage point for me to work my way down, and it was dangerous that it was across the river just before the swamps.
I made my way as close to the first vantage point as I could, stalking along the trees, keeping the gator in sight. It had re-entered the water and was swimming closer to the first vantage point, just not close enough to it.
I heard light steps next to me, swiping through the grass to my left, working its way through the trees. Startled, I looked next to me. An enormous bird, no, a dinosaur, a Pterodactyl stood over me. And it opened its very large, toothed jaws and its tongue virbrated in the air as it let out an ear-splitting grok. It leapt into the sky right at me, flying low and I dove to avoid it. Too late, I realized that the direction I threw my body did not have enough sprawling earth below me to keep me on the ridge.
My hip struck the jagged stone edge of the top of the ridge, sending me flailing in a sort of spin off the cliff and down towards the water. I spread myself out, my heart felt as though it stopped. In the air, I wanted to be able to fly, even just control my descent and tailor my trajectory closer to the ridge, which would have made me slide down into the water. Instead, I was hurtling toward the shallow bank. I splashed with my stomach, pelvis, legs, and chest out even, and the water only barely managed to break my fall, though not enough. The wind knocked out of me and in reflex, I sucked in water.
My right arm took the brunt of the impact and I feared I’d have burst open my old wounds, still scabbed lightly at the top. My left arm was oddly outstretched because I reached for the ridge as I fell, but my right arm, I tried to catch myself.
I spluttered hard, coughing and choking on the water. Choking when you had some air in your lungs was one thing, but to be drowning when you had absolutely no air in your lungs was painful. I coughed up water every time and it seemed to pour from my nose, eyes, and mouth each time, my body forcing me to try and inhale after each gut wrenching cough.
My head was swimming, and my hands kept sliding because I realized that I my legs were not working. They were not paralyzed, I was simply so disoriented that I had not incorporated them into trying to stabilize myself. And then all at once, alarms went off in my head. You are on the same level as the gator, you need to move!
And I saw it, snaking towards me in the distance, just below the surface of the water, one of its body-length’s away. I had to guess because judging distance in the water was tricky. At times, the shadow cast was distorted due to the light or lack thereof.
I dashed off along the ridge as best I could trying to keep my feet in the shallow and sure to pick them up and take the longest strides possible. I heard the pattering thump of it behind me, hissing as it had leveled onto the ridge in pursuit.
Vantage point one, get to vantage point one!
I reached the sandy shores near my camp and made a hard right up the ridge back towards the swamps. I stalled, and looked back, and it was much closer than I had anticipated, already on the shore and rounding the ridge seamlessly, rising up towards me.
Upon the top of the hill was the contraption, covered in thatch, camouflaged. I posted myself not but 5 feet before it and posted up in the center, turning to face the oncoming gator. My hands trembled, the timing had to be right or I would die.
It came more into view, growing closer in size, its mouth closed tight and its powerful legs storming it towards its meal. Just as I felt the pounding if its weight on the ground before me, I saw its jaw quiver with a slight jaunt and dove to the side hard and fast. It lunged overhead right into the thatch covered spiked wall. I’d made over two-dozen spears, put up a large, thick spit, dug them into the ground hard in opposition, and lashed them down.
The gator skewered itself. It had attempted too late to twist around at me and only managed to impale more of its long body along the strip of spears, jamming more of them into its underside. It thrashed and the spiked wall crumpled beneath its power and weight. I brandished my only spear left and backed away. I had practiced throwing the spear a bit and although I was not certain I would throw with enough power to actually pierce its hide should it attack, I would not run. If this did not work, I would die wounding it in the hopes it would not ever recover.
But after another thrash around to its back, it gave its final struggle and drew limp, sagging over the broken spears. Lyssa was avenged.
Surviving the piranha, I felt a bit emboldened, I must admit, but the need for more meat was growing steadily, and just surviving wasn’t enough for me. As the days grew a bit easier, and seemingly longer, my thoughts drifted more towards Esther. At times it was worry, always did I miss her presence, other times, I lusted for her, but most often, I wondered what her presence would do to me. Surviving was worrisome enough, having to protect someone else would be far overbearing I thought.
None-the-less, it was time to go on the hunt again. Another odd chicken would have been fine. I realized far too late that the seagull that had attacked the first day was far to decomposed for me to salvage any of the meat, and there was no way I was going to threaten the Trike.
This time, I would venture East up the bank, along the steep ridge where I could see swamps in the distance, Lyssa at my side. The ridge was much steeper than I had anticipated, and after about 10 feet along the steep bank, Lyssa resolved to simply swim rather than struggle along the bank and keep slipping sideways into the water.
I want fish.
I hoped that the extremely bright colors that some of the larger fish in the water gave off, were not a sign that they contained poison. Looking down into the water as I moved along, I had yet to see some fish along this bank. I wondered if maybe I should double back to the U-shaped retention of water I had worked my way around before, but the swampy bank was closer to me than the camp’s shores.
I stepped onto the squishy earth bordering the swampy waters and my foot sank a bit. I moved quickly to the bit of vegetation on the piece of land and turned to the water.
Lyssa’s seemingly happy face was doggy-paddling along in the water straight to me, her beak peering up, bobbing slightly as her little pudgy feet kicked. I smiled only for a moment as my happiness and safety was wrenched from me. Far too late for me to cry out, (not that it mattered if I would have, Lyssa wouldn’t understand me nor have the time to react) the largest alligator I could have imagined, rose steadily out of the water behind Lyssa and chomped into her.
Apparently, Lyssa had a rather tough hide, though it didn’t matter. I thought the large jaws of the gator would have sliced through her, leaving a most gruesome scene of guts flying everywhere, but instead, she was crushed, only her head and front foot sticking out in the first chomp, and the next took her in whole, devoured. And I heard only the faintest of squeals, almost pig-like as it died.
The gator was still momentarily distracted. I ran, flight kicked in hard and I seemed to be weightless as dashed across the moist ground. I even slipped once in the spongy ground on my way to the top bank, and I immediately regained my balance and only barely looked behind me, the gator still by the bank, but not pursuing. It mattered not, I was on my way up and on my way back to camp, tears streaming down my face.
I kept a bee-line along the top of the ridge just 20 feet above where I had just worked my way with Lyssa at my side. Along the way back, I did not stop to greet anyone, but I learned that I was very much not alone and that there were possibly dozens of species of the Island, ranging in various sizes and shapes; gigantic snakes, small quick dinosaurs only ankle high, and what I remember from my childhood as a Brontosaurus. Only time and further exploration would tell whether they would be hostile or passive, but now my mind was flooded with both grief at my renewed isolation, and anger… I wanted to avenge Lyssa.
I felt a surge of masculinity as I completed my hut; thick trees not unlike bamboo, which were very difficult to cut down. I’m right handed, and my arm shot with pain everytime the axe made contact due to the steadily healing gashes in my arm. The scabs themselves were sharp into the muscle… The first 2 days, I could not even move it, my fingers needed retrained, and they would grow stiff and painful around the axe handle, but it was necessary.. If I had laid and grown stagnant, I feared I might die.
I had another two nights of fevers following the initial piranha attack, the first night of the attack, and again the first time I put a strain on my arm attempting to get work done.
The finished product of my labors stood before me, though, sturdy and proud. It was not very big at all, for the strain of work was still exhausting, threatening fever anytime I would get winded. It was twice the size of the old lean-to, in its old place. I could stand in it, had long leaves layed down as a bed, and my bowl, tools laid against the modest wall. No door, but hinges were difficult when it came to holding up the heavy wood, despite part of the door being thatch.
Finally, I had a place that felt like home; small, but home.
The need for real protein in my diet was dire. Lyssa may get on fine with only berries, but I could start to feel my muscle mass dwindling… My first clue to this was my posterior of all things. I had went to sit down on a rock for a short rest while cutting down trees to use for a proper hut when, for the first time, I could feel the bare stone beneath me almost making contact with bone. My pelvis was now guarded with so little muscle mass that it made it very difficult to get comfortable. And so Lyssa and I must set out.
The portion of the Island I had settled down upon thus far was a sort of peninsula, the beach wrapping around in a U-shape away from the tip to the West, and the shore running straight to a long cliff rising high above on the Eastern shore.
The Western, U-shaped shore would allow me to keep a proper eye on the camp and not venture too far, so it was the path I chose for my first official hunt for meat.
Brandishing my make-shift spear with Lyssa at my ankles, I set out around the beach. So long as I did not run, Lyssa kept up just fine, and I had no reason to run. After we were directly across the shore from the spot where our camp lay, a clearing between the trees seemed to set a clear path before us up a large hill away from the camp.
I looked at Lyssa skeptically, “Shall we brave it?” I asked. Before we made our way up the path, I stopped and listened for danger. The typical distant caws of birds, the high pitched tinkle of water sliding gradually back and forth along the shore behind us.
The path felt very much beaten, although it hadn’t looked as though it had been used much at all recently.
A way up the path and I heard a squawk I hadn’t heard on the Island before, and then an odd flutter or gurgle. I froze in place to listen for its direction, unsure whether my adrenaline should be used for fight or flight.
In the trees to my left, I saw leaves shift out of the corner of my eye at the same time I heard the gurgly flutter again. An oddly shaped bird was jambling out of the bushes, not unlike a chicken in size, but its proportions were off.
“Chicken?” I said to Alyssa, and before even looking for a response, I stepped over to it and skewered it with my spear. It let out a honking squawk of pain as it let out ts final breathe. I smiled to myself, pleased. That was easy.
Back at camp, I had set out plucking the chicken-like creature for the first time. I had never plucked a chicken, and at the start, had relished the new experience, but it gradually grew into tedious work, and by time I was done, I had wished I’d slain something without feathers.
Cleaning it was another matter… I was unsure whether or not I would truly want to cook and eat its innards, but could not bring myself to toss them, and so placed them in a make-shif bowl. Cleaning it and scraping out the guts was a nasty business for sure. Once I had properly placed what remained of the bird on a spit, I placed it carefully over the fire. Time to wash my hands.
Lyssa remained at camp as I walked down to the beach to wash my hands. The crystal clear blue waters provided a gorgeous view of the bottom of the small inlet and at times I had seen sting-rays, wildly colored and large fish, and the largest tortoise I’d ever seen, ever.
The blood on my hands created a dinge in the water where I rinsed them. Up to my ankles, I squatted in the shallow water and rang them beneath the surface.
Of late, I had noticed that there was no discernable Sun, but only light during the day. It shown directionally through the Island as if originating from the Sun, but you would not ever sight its source, the thought becoming increasingly alarming every time I noticed… It made me uneasy. A small splotch of blood was all that remained, high upon my forearm. I took another step further into the water to make it easier to bend down and submerge my elbow. As I did so, something fast in the water, struck out at me.
The pain was unbelievable, searing, stinging, piercing; and my arm gave a great lurch as I was pulled forward jarringly before a new pain ramped up my arm to my shoulder and I pulled my arm up from the water.
Devil eyes, and teeth like razors!
Piranha from Ark
What I could only have identified as a piranha was chomping heavily into my fore-arm, deep and cruel, sending new blood and more murky red tint into the water. I could feel my face flushing, all color running from it and water spewed from my mouth, a horrible brownish-red, right into the unsuspecting face of the piranha, and instinctively, I grabbed the axe from the wasteband of my trousers and slammed the wedge hard at the piranha’s face, relinquishing its hold on my arm and it swam off just to circle around.
It circled around too late, for I had already retreated to the shore, but none-the-less, the axe to the face had not fully discouraged it.
My hands, my arm, shaking violently. I felt as though the pain shot into my bones… I was trying not to move my fingers in the injured hand, for they sent spurts of pain up my arm the like of which I had never imagined. I could feel tears streaming down my face, or maybe it was sweat. Seeing my arm mangled such as it was, I felt as though I might vomit again, but the shaking seemed to keep me stable.. My whole body was shaking, and I realized how cold I was getting. I was losing too much blood. The water of course did not help, making it run thin from the wounds.
I picked myself up with great effort, trying not to move even my shoulder as I stumbled up the hill to camp. A deep aching had begun in my collar-bone, and my feet were getting cold.
This is not good.
I rest up against a tree not far from the fire, and I removed my trousers, the only thing resembling bandage material I could hope for… Dirty and stained, trying to clean my wounds with it scared me, but bleeding out scared me even more. Naked in the sand, I ripped what remained of the legging parts of my trousers and started to carefully wrap the wounds.
As I started to wrap it, I could feel warmth and numbness starting to encase my midsection, my brain did not know how else to cope with sustained bain such as this. It seemed as though the second chomp was most dire, for as I began to wrap it, my hands started shaking less and I realized it was not quite as deep as I had imagined… I may yet survive this.
Lyssa meandered up to me, no real change in expression, but I imagined she was approaching with concern. I looked at her and sighed with a final taut pull of the dirty bandage and rested my head back. I looked over at the fire, the bird cooking nicely…
“Okay, so it wasn’t that easy,” I resolved to Lyssa. She lay her head upon my leg, looking up at me, and I drifted off to sleep against the tree.
Over a week in paradise, no other close calls like the first day on the Island, but I also have yet to venture away from camp or my Trike companion. Well, neighbor is more like it… We aren’t friends, just in proximity of one another… My longing for human interaction has grown steadily as the days grow longer and survival gets a bit easier.
I’ve fashioned some crude tools; an axe, pickaxe, a spear for defense, and a torch. My lean-to has gotten stronger and a bit bigger as well. I capped one end and raised the sides and top as to make it so I could sit up with my legs crossed inside rather than just lay down.
Through trial and error, taste-testing the berries, I had found that the black berries would make me tired, and the white berries had the feel of a caffeine rush, but would leave me parched. The purple berries were by far the tastiest, not unlike a cherry, pit and all, but the distinct juiciness of a strawberry.
Today, I had ventured down the beach to gather berries, back to where I had first come to in the sand, confused and wet. The same lazy-lizard worked its way up and down the beach.
I began to fill my leaf-bowl with berries. For the first time, the lizard showed me some attention and began meandering towards me. It stopped at my feet as I picked berries, looking up expectantly… I fondled a purple berry in my hand and pondered.
A Lystosaurus from Ark: Survival Evolved
“Hey little buddy,” I said, and I squatted down to it, opening my palm to present the berry. It’s beak-like mouth, similar to that of the triceratops, opened and it plucked the berry from my hand, popping it with a quick bite and drizzling juice from its mouth onto my hand. After one or two chomps, its strange and protruding tongue licked my hands, coarse and slimy.
“That tickles,” I spoke to him as I stood, and he stayed at my heels, looking up at me… I felt awkward for a moment.
“What? You want more?” I asked it with a hint of sarcasm which spoke volumes of my level of social interaction these days. I felt playful.
“Here, have another” and I fed him more. A half dozen berries later, he broke into a sort of dance, making a snortish groany laugh of delight. I chuckled in surprise and bent down to pet him (or her, of which I knew not) and not unlike a cat, its head and back rose to meet my hand. I had made a friend finally.
After filling my make-shift bowl, the lizard-creature followed me all the way back to my encampment.
“I think I’ll name you… How about Lyssa? Do you like that name?” I asked the lizard-creature, whom looked rather expressionless. Sarcasm kicking in again, “I like that name too,” I nodded with finality. My first tamed beast.
Explorer's Wrotes 