Jungle Princess ✔

Chapter 27: Stranger of the Storm

For three days and nights it stormed. The winds were icy wet and howled, the clouds clustered together in a tight black pack like there was no tomorrow. The rain leaked through their new bungalows so they had to all move up into the mountain again, watching their hard work go to waste as the hurricane blew through their island and destroyed their homes. The children huddled with their mothers, crying at every boom of thunder and spark of lightning. Amitola clung to no one but herself.

Keon slept in another cave with his mother, father and sister, who kept sneaking away to be with Maru. Leotie and Akela had finalized their wedding date, however, with the storm, it might have to be delayed until they could rebuild their community.

On the third day Amitola rose with the sun, which peaked through cracks in the clouds. The storm was over. They could move on with their lives again.

As Amitola walked along the damp sand that was littered with torn palm leaves andscraps of trees, she noticed an overturned wooden boat. It had a hole in the side, where the wood had splintered over a rock, and there was a groan from beneath. Amitola approached the boat, curious. A hand had shot out from the hole, and it clutched a silver bottle. Amitola had never seen such a thing, nor did she recognize the hand, which was a bright pink color, nothing like the coconut brown complexion the Ngaro people possessed.

Amitola used all her force to heave off the boat and turn it upright, only to reveal exactly what she suspected. A white man.

He had tousled brown locks that were matted to his scalp, which was drenched with water. He had a sprinkle of stubble along his jaw, bright pink lips and long dark eyelashes. He was not heavily built and muscled like the men on her island. He was lean and tall...kind of like Kahana. But it wasn't Kahana. It was a stranger.

The stranger blinked his ocean blue eyes up at her, squinting as he shaded his eyes with his hand. "Are you an angel?" he asked.

Amitola stiffened in shock. His tongue was foreign, however she could interpret it. But she did not know what an "angel" was so she shook her head. "No, I am not."

The strange man looked confused. "I don't understand."

Of course he didn't understand her. She spoke the Ngaro language. He didn't. So...why did she understand what he had said?

The man had a gash to the side of his head, hidden in his curls as a dark crimson blood. She watched him drink from his silver flask thirstily, as if his life depended on it. He wiped his mouth, then gagged. Soon, he had spewed the contents of his stomach onto the sand. Amitola looked away in disgust.

"Ohhh, I don't feel so good," he moaned, clutching his stomach. His eyes traveled up to Amitola, lingering on her chest. Amitola crossed her arms and frowned down at him.

"Who are you?" she asked, even though she knew he couldn't understand.

The man still looked baffled. He raised a hand to his head, then pulled it away with a gasp. "Oh my God I'm bleeding! Shit!"

Amitola realized actions spoke louder than words, so she tore off some cloth from her skirt and knelt down beside the man, holding out the cloth. The man took it tentatively, his piercing eyes on her. She had never seen eyes so blue. Everyone had dark brown eyes on her island. The way his eyes stared at her was...refreshing, like bathing in the lagoon.

"Thank you," he said to her as he wiped away the blood, staining her cloth. This she understood. Amitola soon realized she understood some words more than others.

The man pointed to himself, saying slowly, "My name...is Daniel."

Amitola heard a name. Daniel. How strange.