In His Hands

Part 4 - Tree House

Calmer, she lifted her eyes to the horizon. The beauty of nature surrounded her, and yet she was alone and without help or hope. But are we ever without hope? Hannah forced her shaking legs to stand. She had to be strong. What was the point in praying if you didn't believe in what you said?

Hannah ignored her aching feet, and put one in front of the other, keeping her eyes on the small, furry spot curled under the palm tree. Reaching Cat, she stretched out her hand to feel his warmth, his realness. He peeked one eye open and gave a gentle snore.
She headed out of the glare, back to the waterfall and then searched for another path leading further into the jungle.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Cat padding towards her. Did he want to keep an eye on her wandering around his territory? He jumped lightly over the stream, and then strutted off, disappearing between two trees.

If Cat knew where he was going, she should try to follow him. Hannah stepped over the stream and pushed through the foliage where he vanished. Another thin trail wound through the trees.

But, after a few minutes, the path petered out into nothing, and thick undergrowth blocked her way. She looked around, puzzled, peering between branches and leaves, hoping to spot a waving tail.

Then, a meow came from above her head. Cat peered down from a tree. Perhaps this path lead to a dead end. Maybe she should go back to the waterfall and try again. But then something caught her eye. A horizontal piece of wood against the tree trunk, covered in leaves. She brushed the leaves away and another piece of wood appeared above it. The two were strung together.

Her heart beat wildly. A rope ladder. Did this mean people still lived here? Perhaps natives. Or explorers. But why hadn't they found her already?
Hannah peered up the ladder. The top vanished into the tree. She tugged on the rungs, lifting her feet off the ground to see if it would support her weight, and it seemed sturdy.

Carefully, she began to ascend, her feet protesting at the hard wood pressing through her thin slippers. She gritted her teeth and focused on rhythmically climbing the ladder, alternating hands and feet.

From above, Cat's narrowed eyes watched. It looked like he was peering through a hole cut in some kind of platform. Curiosity gave her strength, and Hannah climbed up to where the ladder disappeared into the opening.

She flung her arms through the hole and heaved herself up onto the firm slab. A tree house! Worn, but in good condition. A thick trunk sat in the middle, surrounded by the wooden platform, with a knee-high barrier around the edge. A bed of dried leaves filled one corner and a large wooden box another. A roof of slightly rotten thatched palm leaves gave relief from the sun.

Hannah eagerly looked out over the jungle, and her heart dropped. In every direction, blue sea surrounded her. She stood at the center of an island which consisted of no more than the thick jungle and the beach she had found herself on. Wicked-looking rocks edged the perimeter on the opposite side. No land showed in the distance, in any direction. Aqua sea met the azure sky.

Hannah sank to the tree house floor, sliding her back down the supporting trunk. She clutched her stomach with shaking hands, feeling like she'd been kicked in the gut. Bitterly, she wondered why whoever left her here hadn't just killed her. Wasn't she as good as dead, anyway? Sobs racked her body, and she curled up in a fetal position and let the tears come.

Her mind switched off as if it couldn't cope with the horror. As her sobs quieted, Hannah lay there, not moving, not seeing, bound in misery. Knowing nothing, she stretched out comatose in one position until dusk fell. Eventually, her eyelids closed.

***

Flickering red flames. Hannah spun in circles. Ash filled her hair, nose and mouth. The flames roared around her.

A face loomed out of the darkness. Was it her father? Some laughing maniac drew near, blood dripping down his face and arms, reaching for her.

Hannah screamed and spat out ash. She turned to run, but the flames rushed in, licking up her legs and arms, engulfing her and burying her, until she sat in a raw ball of agony, not knowing or caring what became of her ...

***

Night air breezed through Hannah's hair. She shivered and sat up, groaning at her stiff back and legs. Better to be awake and face the jungle than asleep and face the nightmares.

Dawn nipped at the horizon, sending grey light over the tree house.
A tight band around her forehead threatened to unleash a full force headache. She needed a distraction and turned to investigate the wooden box. She'd been right about someone living here at one point. It contained a tinder box, an ax, two sets of men's clothing—ruffled shirts and breeches, sandals made of bark with palm frond straps, a sharp knife, a long rope, two old water skins, and a moldy heap of something that had once, presumably, been fruit.

Her spirits rose and sank at the same time. She had a few basic supplies now but wasn't wholly sure she wanted to survive. Still, those shoes looked more comfortable than her thin, satin slippers.

As she slipped her new shoes on, pulling the straps tight, she spotted Cat curled up in a corner of the tree house. On investigation, she found a few bird skeletons lying around. No question who owns this house now! Perhaps Cat had belonged to the house's former owner. Shipwrecked, or marooned, like her.

A growl from her stomach made Hannah realize she couldn't remember when she last ate. As appealing as curling up next to Cat and waiting for death felt, her stomach disagreed.

The mess in the bottom of the box looked like fruit skins, so perhaps that was her best option. Fruit must grow nearby. Taking the knife, she held it in one hand and climbed back down the rope ladder.

Hannah followed the path back to the waterfall, this time checking out the different plants and trees. Even for a pampered girl like herself, it was easy to spot multiple kinds of fruit hanging from trees and bushes.

Hannah would normally see fruits chopped and prepared, served in crystal bowls. Bananas. Mangoes. Pineapples. And now they grew wild at her fingertips. She made for a pineapple plant first, low down on the ground, and next managed to cut down a hanging bunch of bananas.

She chopped the fruits open and gorged on the acidic yellow flesh of the pineapples and the soft bananas. Juice dribbled down her chin, and she didn't care. Ravenous, she devoured an entire pineapple and two bananas, finished off with water from the stream. Never had fruit tasted so good despite the lack of crystal bowls.

With her stomach full, a short wave of optimism overcame Hannah. She hiked back to the tree house, humming to herself. If Cat slept there, it seemed like a sensible place to have as a base. She took her dress with her. It was still damp and would never look like a proper gown again. The men's clothes would be more practical to wear than skirts. Maybe she could find another use for the dress material.

Hannah ascended the rope ladder, struggling to hold the voluminous dress. Pulling herself onto the platform, she gave a deep sigh. It was still hard to think the coming days would bring anything good.