Fresh fruit lay obediently in an array in front of a harvested tree.
"Maybe these were left here long ago," Zayne said.
"That doesn't explain why they look ripe and laid out so neatly," Malik speculated.
"But why would they have spears if they'd only grab fruit?" Kaya asked.
"It could've been animals," Malik said.
"What kind of animals have you been see—" Zayne cut off his own question.
The bloody river in front of them formed itself between the crevices of rocks. Each rock looked as if it was fighting to maintain its shell. They shook like chattering teeth.
Malik smiled. He had seen rivers in black and blue, but never red.
"Let's go," he said, waving to them.
Rolling up his pants to his ankles and taking off his shoes, Malik took the first leap.
Splash.
The river acknowledged his presence and gave him a warm welcome. It massaged his feet and cleansed them thoroughly.
He danced in it, twirling widely with his eyes open this time. He wouldn't miss this kind of scenery again.
"That good, huh?" Zayne asked.
Malik didn't hear his question.
Zayne laughed as he took off his shirt, leaving only a tank top, and shook his shoes off.
When he stepped in—
"Gah! Ah! Ah! Ah!" He shrieked.
Skipping, he rushed toward the bank in front of the tree.
"Are you okay?" Kaya asked from the other side.
"That stung like hell. Felt like something cut my heels in there, but there's no wound," he said, holding his feet.
Kaya saw the injured Zayne and the joyful Malik, and she decided if it was worth it to flip the coin.
"I'm not sure about this," she said, her hands pressed to her hips.
"What's the worst that could happen? At least you'll be able to say you've ridden a red river before," Malik said, gleefully.
Kaya sighed and took off her shoes. Testing the waters, she dipped ankle-deep in it, and then put both feet inside.
It simply passed by her. It didn't lather her like Malik, nor sting her like Zayne.
"It feels normal," she said.
She walked to the bank and stood beside Zayne.
Then he noticed it. "Woah, Kaya. Look at your feet."
"Huh? What's wrong with them?" she said, clueless.
When she looked down, she saw her feet were coated in what seemed like red salt. She shook it off and saw what appeared to be small scratches on her skin.
"That's weird . . ." she murmured.
Malik heard their silence and stayed still.
He saw the scratches on her and quickly rushed to the bank. His feet were unscathed, almost brand new, as if it protected him.
"Kaya, is everything okay?" he asked.
"Yeah. No worries," she responded with a half-hearted smile.
"You're lying again. It's like something's stopping you from ever blaming me," Malik uttered.
He went to the other side of the river to get their shoes, effortlessly walking through the piercing water.
"I've never seen him act like that before," Zayne whispered.
"You learn something new every day from him," Kaya responded lightly.
When Malik brought their belongings, he laid them out in front of them.
"Put them on," he demanded.
He wouldn't avert his gaze until both of them began to slide their feet into the soles of the shoes.
When they tightened their laces, Malik continued to smile. He simply looked away and drifted his focus toward the tree.
Kaya's eyes stayed dark as she shook her head.
"Are trees like this in all the realms?" Malik asked.
"Not commonly," Zayne answered.
Kaya stayed silent, as if another word would cut her.
She turned around and faced Malik, who was inspecting the tree.
Looking at his finger, she felt unease.
"Malik . . . when was the last time you clipped your nails?"
She saw his fingernails like talons at the tips, and they looked as if they could slice open skin with the wrong movements.
He turned his gaze to her, sighing. "Before the storm."
She shook. "But I did too. So how can they grow that fast? No, how long has it really been since then?"
"Relax, Kaya," Zayne said.
"How can you expect me to stay calm when nothing adds up? The vines, the nails, our hunger, and the list goes on—"
Stomp!
Malik crushed the ground under him with his foot.
"It doesn't matter. Even if we did somehow find out, what are we gonna do? What can we do against the unexplainable?" he badgered.
He stared at them as they continued their silence.
Shaking his head, "Can I not have to worry about your dead-end theories just for a moment? This here is a casual visit for you guys; for me it's a dream I've had all my life."
. . .
Ambience. The leaves swayed, and the insects clicked.
Then—
Rustle.
It came from behind the tree. Something too careful with its steps to be an animal.
Malik pulled out his bayonet and held it close to him as his body hugged the tree. With his other hand, he signaled for both of them to be silent.
Step. Step. Step.
Coming closer, it crushed pebbles beneath its weight. It restrained its breathing as not to make its presence known.
Malik slightly displayed his bayonet in the open and—
Clink!
A spear collided with the tip of the blade.
"You there! Come out!" a voice shouted.
The voice wasn't commanding. In fact, it sounded joyful, like a child who found their friend in a game of hide-and-seek.
"You come first," Malik said to it.
"Ahh, you know I can't do that. It's my home you're stepping in," it responded, almost playfully.
"And why should I come out? You just threw a spear at me," Malik asked.
"You know what? I'll throw the other spears I have. I'm no threat," it said.
Malik smiled. "Oh, so you did have other spears."
"Goodness, I bet you're hard to make good friends with," it said, coming closer.
Malik popped his head out from behind the tree, but he didn't see anybody.
"Turn around," the voice said.
Malik turned around, and a shorter, tan man with straight black hair smiled ear-to-ear. His smile looked strained, as if somebody stapled it onto his face.
"Bahahahahahahahaha!" They laughed uncontrollably.
Watching from afar, Zayne giggled as Kaya held in her laughter.
"Sometimes I wonder if he's got a couple screws loose up there," Zayne said.
"Sometimes?" Kaya replied.
Meanwhile, the other two kept laughing.
Malik wiped a tear from his eye as he could barely open them. "Wow, man, you really got me good there. What's your name?"
"My name's Awan. But you should've seen the look on your face! For a second there, I thought you were the shadow."
As Malik eased his laughter, "Oh, this?" He held up his bayonet on display. "No, no. It's just a tool. I wouldn't really call it a shadow."
Awan continued, "Ah, seems like you don't know. You passed the test," he said monotone, but keeping his teeth on display.
Malik finally opened his eyes. "And what exactly do you mean by that?" he asked, deeply.
The question felt like it cut something into Awan's chest.
He saw them.
Crystal-clear, stormy eyes. Hurricanes within pupils that knocked him flat on his back.
He backed away, holding his hands up.
Malik leaned closer. "What's wrong? You were just laughing a second ago," he asked.
Awan hyperventilating, "You . . . you . . ."
"You?" Malik tilted his head.
Awan gulped as he looked around, as if somebody was listening in.
Then he muttered, "You never told me your name, but I know it now."
A breath.
"You are the storm."
. . .