Chapter Six
Hannah
We walk on in silence. We walk for hours. No words. The terrain is rough now. We are nearly around the island. I am terrified at the thought of going into the jungle. I shudder. I hear a low growl. My imagination? I glance into the jungle. Eyes. Panther eyes. Before I can scream, it pounces. But not on me. On Mich. I can’t move. I can’t breathe. The panther rips at Mich’s throat, and he goes limp.
“Han! Han!” Mich screams, but his lips don’t move.
“Her real name?” A heavily accented voice asks.
“Hannah,” Mich says.
Who are these people? I open my eyes. I can’t see Mich. Is he dead? A dark-skinned tribal-marked girl is leaning over me. She prods my forehead with her fingertips, and I sit up. Scooting back, I feel my head make contact with a stone wall. Mich is there.
“Han-nah,” the tribal girl says.
“Where am I?” I ask.
“When you passed out, I took the shortcut back to camp and the Wesizwe found us,” Mich explains.
“Wesizwe?” I ask.
“Panther Tribe in Xhosa,” he says.
I think about my vision. The panther. How it killed Mich. No, I can’t think of that now.
“How long?” I say.
“Three sunsets,” the tribal girl says.
“This is Mbulala,” Mich offers.
“And that means…?” I ask.
“Pan-thu kill-uh,” Mbulala replies.
“That’s reassuring,” I say, studying Mbulala’s skinny frame.
Mbulala smiles, clearly not hinting my sarcasm. I feel my back pocket for my dagger, and for the first time, I realize I am not wearing my clothes. It is sleek fur knotted together.
“My weapons and clothes?” I ask.
“Ex-ah-min-a-tion,” Mbulala replies, annunciating each syllable.
“Examination? Did I do something wrong?” I say defensively.
“Nuh. Stand-ard pro-seed-jur,” Mbulala says. Her accent bugs me.
“I want my weapons!” I snap. Something about this place alarms me. Mbulala smiles, revealing yellow teeth. It makes me wonder if she ever brushed them. Probably not.
“We can’t have our weapons until they release us,” Mich explains. I now notice he is wearing a loose fur shirt, ripped in a few places. Mbulala looks between us.
“Me leave now,” she says, and walks out.
“Release us?” I exclaim, wheeling on him.
“In a way, we’re prisoners,” Mich says, studying his ratty tennis shoes. His elbows are on his knees, legs wide, hands clasped together. So casual. I feel dizzy.
“Prisoners, yeah,” I sulk, sinking to my feet. Everything is a spinning blurr. Instinctively, I grab his arm for support. Then I reel back. “Don’t.. Feel… well…” Mich grabs my waist to support me. I throw up.
“Did they give me any medicine or food?” I ask. Mich looks alarmed. He nods sullenly. “They poisoned me.”
Realistic Fiction
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I understand a lot happens in the chapter an edit happens really fast but I was just really excited for this part!
*And *it whoops!