My Wild Man

A Clue

My eyes strained against the black of night, attempting to take in our surroundings as we traversed through the forest. I'm glad he kept his hand around my wrist, otherwise I'd most certainly be lost. He led us through trees, under hollows, across thick jungle grass, making turns here and there with such certainty at seemingly random places. But eventually we entered into a clearing, which allowed more of the moonlight to illuminate the area. It's a man-made clearing, quite large, in which stood the remains of several wooden sheds. I realized that high above us in the trees was another structure, surrounded by fishing netting and connected to the ground by a single ladder. All these things were weatherworn, beaten by the jungle environment. I marveled at the sight as he led me to the base of the tree under the makeshift home up above us, gripping the ladder rung that he placed my hand upon. "Is it safe?" I asked, more to myself than him. Tugging at the rungs allowed for some give, but they seemed sturdy enough. Gingerly I made my way up, trying my best not to look down at the jungle floor as I climbed higher and higher. The bottom of the treehouse had what looked like dried barnacles crusted along the boards... A glance around the sides revealed some large painted writing, faded and cracked, unreadable in this light. Could this be a repurposed hull? My curiosity grew with every step up, until...

"Ah-" I sucked in a breath of air in panic, feeling my stomach drop sickeningly as the wood beneath my feet cracked and broke. But the same instant, even before I really had time to fully process what had happened, a strong arm caught around my waist and pulled me into a warm embrace. The skin of my collarbone and my knees struck against the bark, but I barely felt the pain. My mind reeled at the close encounter with death, my eyes watering from fear. I clung to the man who had saved my life twice now, enjoying the security and strength of the muscles wrapped around me, even though they squeezed painfully on my broken ribs. Instead of releasing me, he continued the climb while holding on to me, using the branches when the ladder seemed more dangerous. We reached the top, where he hauled me through the porthole into the treehouse. He set me down and looked me over, in particular examining the wraps around my chest beneath my shirt. "Fletcher," he said, poking and prodding all over me in concern. I clutched at my chest where my heart threatened to stop altogether. That was terrifying, I thought as I examined his facial features with wide, unfocused eyes, watching the way he kept his face close and broadened his shoulders intentionally, as though to assure me he was strong enough for the both of us. Then, over his shoulder, I saw something that made me shudder. Surely my eyes are playing tricks on me, I thought as he continued examining me and repeating my name in an attempt to comfort me, I assume. The moonlight flooded through one of the broken windows to rest upon a large bundle of cloth on the other side of the room. Boots, a dress, a pair of trousers, splattered with something dark. Suddenly I realized.

"B... bones!" I startled and crawled backwards away from him and the remnants of bodies behind him. He sat back on his heels and watched me in confusion. My back hit the wall, several items fell around me, my feet scraped against the broken glass from the window- but my eyes remained glued to those forms on the floor. He glanced around the room for any threat, but ultimately reached a sturdy and calloused hand out to hold my wrist gently. A cold sweat formed on my skin as he led me on all fours across the room, maintaining a wide berth around the corpses. My eyes kept on them the whole time, every muscle in my body tense at their presence. The glass ground deep into my skin with every step, but I focused only on the remains several paces away from me. Suddenly the moonlight became eerie, the lack of animal noises unsettling, his hand the only warmth in my body. Instead of an adventure novel, my story had turned into a horror book.

"Fletcher." The strong and assured voice redirected my attention momentarily. His eyes reflected the moon like small farthings, quite mesmerizing. He tapped something on the ground- upon further inspection, I realized what it was.