Mud trips over a root and runs into a tree. Breath gone and balls aching, he slumps to the ground. The leaves are slick from the morning chill. He pulls his cape closer over his bare shoulders. Aside from his fundoshi and leather shin guards to protect against creatures with a tendency to bite at ankles and thorns, he wears nothing else. Something stirs in him, [i]naked, that’s the word[/i], but to him, Naked isn’t a word. She’s a person. Naked was the best hunter in their group. She’s the one who taught him how to walk in the forest, feet feeling for twigs and dried leaves. He taught her how to trap. 

Yes, Naked was her name, not what he was. Her belly grew fat and round, the skin stretching from Baby. Dude had been so happy. Said he wanted his name to be Father, instead, but Dude broke his ankle and died from blood poisoning before anyone ever called him Father. 

Able to stand without wincing, Mud jogs towards the shore. The water doesn’t move or create sounds like some of the waterfalls he’s come upon. The ground changes from sinking mud to tough sand and the trees thin and small brushes become more prominent. He hangs back, covered in shadows. He scans the shore. Nothing. He looks farther out. Maybe. Something. Clamping his spear between his teeth, he starts to climb. The twisting formation of the tree makes it an easy climb. He peers out over the side of the tree, back at the Still Sea, inches higher, checks again. 

Yes. 

He slips and rips skin on his toes clambering for purchase. 

“Yes,” he breathes over the wood shaft of his spear.

A whoop builds in his throat. An accurate burst of elation, but he presses his forehead into the smooth bark of the tree. Tick’s voice saying, “Use your words, Mud.” He whispers everything he’s wanted to tell anyone since Naked and Baby died. About the lumbering [url=http://lassiecrumby.deviantart.com/art/Beautiful-Machine-Xueria-Concepts-590660837]Jakabo[/url] who’s been the closest thing to human he’s known these last two, lonely years and how he wants it to hold him, like Naked held Baby. How it took three days to burn the bodies because of the rain. How he hasn’t gotten any new scars. What it was like to find the third monument. How he knows the answer to the riddle, but hasn’t been brave enough to move on. 

Mud shimmies up to the thickest branch to watch, spear balanced over his lap. He strains, hands braced on the wood beneath him, when he catches the water swallowing up two figures. They’re more than 400 meters out. He was never a fast runner. He bites his cheek. He waits, twirling spirals and circles into the tree with his fingers. Maybe its squares and geometrics—He doesn’t pay attention. He watches them. Watches them help one another. Watches them talk to one another. Watches them smile at one another. He doesn’t want to watch them. He doesn’t dare close his eyes. They might disappear.