One fateful morning, Sumit awoke to find himself lying in the middle of an open field, surrounded by dense forest. Panic surged through him as he realized he was clad in nothing but his pajamas, with no recollection of how he got there. With a racing heart and trembling limbs, he began to run towards a faint flicker of light, hoping to stumble upon someone who could provide answers.
As he approached the light, his steps slowed, the fear subsiding. He realized there was no one chasing him, no signs of a struggle, and his mind began to clear.
Maybe I'm dreaming?
SLAP.
He slapped himself, not sure if he was dreaming or hallucinating. The sting of pain was real, a stark reminder that he was indeed awake. He took a moment to compose himself before starting to walk again toward the light. The light grew brighter, revealing a river that glowed with an eerie luminescence.
It's just a river.
Sumit stared at the river, his curiosity piqued. He had never heard of such a phenomenon, but he knew that in the jungle, nature often held secrets beyond the realm of his textbooks. He approached the water's edge, the glow reflecting on his skin. Cautiously, he dipped his hand into the water, expecting it to be warm or electric, but it was cool and refreshing, the current gently tugging at his fingers.
It's cold.
He took it as a sign and made his decision. He would follow the river downstream, trusting that it would lead him to civilization. His survival instincts kicked in, and he knew that finding help was his only priority. He took a sip from the river and looked towards the jungle. The sounds of the jungle grew fainter as he calmed down and drank more water, his thoughts a whirlpool of questions about how he ended up here and what lay ahead.
Let's move.
The first night was the hardest. Sumit climbed a tree with surprising ease, his years of playing in the mango orchards back home serving him well. He found a sturdy branch and curled up, the croaks and chirps of the night creatures lulling him into an uneasy sleep. His stomach growled, a reminder that he had not eaten since he arrived.
I'm hungry.
Desperation grew as the light from the river illuminated a patch of ripe berries. He plucked them greedily, ignoring the voice in his head that whispered of potential dangers.
They look safe.
The berries were tart and sweet, a welcome relief from the emptiness in his belly. He ate until he could eat no more, not caring if they were safe or not. As the night deepened, his stomach began to rebel, cramps twisting his insides into knots. He lay awake, his body writhing in pain, questioning the wisdom of his choice. The river's glow grew faint, and he realized it was a side effect of the berries. The jungle around him was a black canvas, the stars hidden by the dense canopy above.
Fuc…
For four days, Sumit traveled with the river, his stomach a constant companion in his misery. Each night, he found refuge in the embrace of the trees, their branches a swaying cradle in the wind. The days were a blur of climbing and walking, the only constant being the ever-present light that guided him. He saw no signs of human life, no discarded wrappers—just animal footprints and the endless expanse of green. The glowing river was his silent guide through this uncharted territory.
On the fourth day, his body was a wreck, bruised and bitten by unseen insects. His stomach had settled into a dull roar, the berries a distant memory. He had learned to fish with a makeshift spear, but the fear of the unknown lingered like a shadow. Yet, there was something oddly liberating about his solitude. No one to judge him, no one to expect him to be anything other than what he was in this moment: a boy fighting to survive. As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky with fiery hues, he spotted something that made his heart leap—a flicker of light in the distance, brighter than the river's glow. It was a campfire. He approached cautiously, hope flaring in his chest like a candle in the dark.
Sumit's heart pounded in his chest as he broke into a run, the flicker of the campfire growing larger with each step. The warmth of the firelight was a beacon in the cold darkness, promising safety and perhaps, finally, some answers. As he neared the clearing, the silhouette of a humanoid figure sitting by the flames became clear. Cloaked in shadow, its features were hidden beneath a hood pulled low over its face, adding an air of mystery to the scene.
The figure sat perfectly still, as if waiting. Sumit hesitated, his instincts urging him to be cautious, but the desire for human contact overpowered his fear. He took a tentative step forward, his breath shallow, each crackle of the fire sounding unnaturally loud in the stillness of the night.
As Sumit drew closer, the figure stirred, turning its head toward him. A pair of eyes glinted from beneath the hood, catching the light of the flames. There was a tense pause, a moment where time seemed to stretch impossibly thin, and then a voice—calm, measured—broke the silence.
"Who goes there?"
Sumit froze, his breath catching in his throat. The voice was deep, almost melodious, and more importantly, it was speaking in a language he knew. Relief washed over him, soothing his racing heart. He began to walk toward the fire more confidently, the fear that had gripped him earlier beginning to ebb away.
"I… I'm lost," Sumit stammered, his voice trembling despite his efforts to stay calm. "I don't know how I got here. I just want to go home."
The figure remained motionless, its face still hidden in shadow. "Which tribe are you from?"
Sumit blinked in confusion, the question throwing him off balance. "What? Tribe? I don't understand."
The silence that followed was heavy, the only sound the crackling of the fire and the distant rustle of the jungle. Sumit's mind raced, trying to make sense of the question. Tribe? What does he mean by that? He was about to speak again when the figure suddenly moved, the motion slow and deliberate.
With a fluid, almost graceful gesture, the figure reached up and pulled back its hood. What Sumit saw made his blood run cold.
A face emerged from the shadows, but it wasn't human. It was a cat—a black cat, its fur sleek and glossy, its eyes reflecting the firelight with an eerie, almost supernatural glow. But this was no ordinary cat; it stood on two legs, its posture upright like a human's. The creature's eyes, a vivid green, locked onto Sumit's with a sharp, intelligent gaze that seemed to pierce through him.
The cat open his mouth and asked again. "Which tribe are you from?"
Sumit's mind reeled. This couldn't be real. His body tensed, every instinct screaming at him to run, but he was rooted to the spot, unable to tear his gaze away from the cat's face. The air around him seemed to thicken, the sounds of the jungle fading into an oppressive silence. His heart thundered in his chest, each beat echoing in his ears as his vision began to blur.
This isn't happening, he thought desperately. It can't be real.
But the cat's eyes told him otherwise. They watched him with a calm, almost knowing expression, as if it had seen this reaction before, as if it understood exactly what Sumit was feeling.
Sumit took a shaky step backward, his legs suddenly feeling like lead. His breath came in shallow gasps, the world tilting dangerously as his senses were overwhelmed. The campfire, the cat, the entire scene began to spin around him, the edges of his vision darkening.
Before he could react, the ground rushed up to meet him. Darkness closed in around him, his last conscious thought a fleeting image of those green eyes watching him as he fell, their gaze unblinking, as if silently judging him before everything went black.