Sam, who had been walking for three consecutive days, followed the riverbank, convinced it would lead him to a populated area. The journey wasn't easy, and his body was exhausted from the long days on the road. His meals consisted mainly of small insects he dared to eat and tiny fish he caught from the river using a makeshift reed spear. He quenched his thirst with river water or the occasional coconut he found along the way. Despite all the hardships, there was a driving force pushing him forward: the need to find other humans, to see them, to feel that he hadn't completely lost his way.
Just when he thought he had reached the limit of his endurance, the horizon began to change. He noticed green fields ahead, and in the distance, small huts started to appear. As he drew closer, the sounds of activity grew louder. He saw figures working in the fields—women and children busy with farming. The scene was lively, filled with movement and energy.
"Humans, finally humans," Sam whispered to himself, quickening his steps toward the village.
He felt a sense of safety he hadn't experienced since the moment his ship sank. Watching the villagers work the land gave him a glimmer of hope, a feeling that he had reached a place where he could survive, even if only for a few days.
But as he approached the village, he noticed everyone staring at him intently, their eyes filled with curiosity. "Have they never seen someone like me before?" Sam wondered as he observed them cautiously.
He noticed the village was very simple, made up of small huts, and the way of life seemed reminiscent of the Middle Ages in its details.
When he entered the village, he realized most of the men were absent. Women and children made up the majority of the population. At first, Sam couldn't make sense of the scene, but something about the village felt different.
Then, moments later, an elderly man who seemed dignified approached him, followed by a teenage boy. The man stood before Sam and spoke words that were completely foreign to him. The language was utterly unfamiliar, and Sam tried in vain to pick up any recognizable words. Every attempt to understand the man failed.
"What should I do now?" Sam thought, standing in confusion. But suddenly, he remembered there was another way to communicate. He decided to follow a plan that might be his best option in this situation.
He extended his hands and made simple gestures, trying to convey that he couldn't speak, that he was deaf and mute. He attempted to express himself through signs, repeating movements with his fingers to make his point. His face was filled with anxiety, fearing he might fail to communicate, but the old man seemed to understand after a moment of confusion.
The old man gestured for Sam to follow him. "Did he understand me?" Sam wondered as he followed the elderly man and the teenage boy. He didn't know if this was a wise decision, but his only option now was to follow them. Perhaps he would find some semblance of safety.
The old man led him to a small straw hut surrounded by trees and plants. Inside, Sam sat down to rest. He no longer had the energy to stand or move, his body worn out from days of walking. After a while, the old man entered the hut and brought simple food—some bread and fresh-looking fruit. He left Sam to eat in silence while standing nearby, watching him with curious eyes.
After finishing the meal and the old man's departure, Sam retreated to a corner and decided to rest. He was still exhausted, and his body desperately needed deep sleep. "The most important thing now is rest. I'll figure everything out later," he whispered to himself, pulling a simple blanket over his body and closing his eyes.