The next morning, we made our way carefully down the slope facing the sea. The mountain gave us a good vantage, and from here, we could see the devastation left by the tsunami among the lower forest and the beach survivors' camps.
As we approached, the scene was grim. Trees had been uprooted, debris littered the ground, and among it were scattered personal items—clothes, cooking tools, and a few tattered belongings that had been left behind in the chaos. Some items still hung from branches, swaying lightly in the breeze, reminders of the people who had lived here before the wave.
I froze when I noticed something—a figure hanging from a branch, lifeless. My stomach turned, and I instinctively pressed my hand over Kate's eyes. "Not now, darling," I whispered, guiding her away gently. Her small hand squeezed mine in trust, and I forced myself to focus on survival.
We moved among the scattered debris, carefully picking up clothes that might still be usable—torn shirts, pants, and a small blanket. It wasn't much, but it would help. Kate handed me a tiny shirt she found, and I smiled at her quietly. "Good job, love. This will help us."
Near a small spring trickling down the mountainside, we washed the clothes with fresh, clean water. The cold sting of the water was sharp, but it left them smelling cleaner than anything we had managed in days. It felt like a small victory in a place that had taken so much.
I sat with Kate for a moment, tracing the outline of the mountain in the dirt. "Tomorrow," I said softly, "we'll scout the other side of the mountain—the side with the huts we saw. We don't know what's there, if they survived the storm, or if it's safe. But first, we stay here, gather what we need, and plan carefully."
Kate nodded, trust shining in her eyes. "One step at a time, Mom," she said.
I hugged her close. The mountain gave us protection and perspective, but the world below—both the remnants of the modern survivors and the distant primitive village—remained uncertain. Step by step, we would learn it, and step by step, we would survive.
Since the coastline survivors were gone—swept away or fled—we knew our only hope for meeting other humans lay behind the mountain. The village with huts. Whether they were modern people or something far more primitive… we had no idea.
But before we could scout it, fate decided for us.
Morning light crept into the cave, dim and soft, when a sudden shadow moved across the entrance. My breath froze in my chest.
A silhouette of a man.
As he stepped into clearer view, my stomach knotted. He was tall, his body muscular and sun‑darkened. He carried a long wooden spear with a sharpened stone tip. His lower body was covered only by a strip of fur tied with a crude rope around his hips. His hair was wild, dark, and thick, hanging around his shoulders. His eyes…
His eyes were sharp, trained, assessing.
I immediately grabbed Kate and pulled her into my arms. My heart hammered so loudly I swore he could hear it.
Please don't move… please don't attack…
He didn't step inside.
He stood completely still, spear held loosely in his hand—not raised to strike, but not harmless either. A predator deciding whether we were prey… or something else.
I swallowed, trying to wet my dry throat.
My crude spear lay against the cave wall, too far away. Just a few steps. But in those steps, he could lunge at us.
I tried to think, my mind racing.
If he moves toward us, I must grab the spear. If he charges, I throw myself between him and Kate. If he—
He tilted his head slightly, observing the two of us like an animal trying to understand what it was seeing.
Kate trembled against me, whispering, "Mom…"
"Shh," I breathed, though my voice cracked. I slowly shifted my weight, ready to move if I had to. But he noticed—his grip on his spear tightened, muscles in his arm flexing. I froze instantly.
We stared at each other.
Two worlds meeting.
Two survivors, but from opposite ends of something ancient.
Minutes passed like hours.
His nostrils flared slightly, sniffing the air—testing it. His eyes flicked to Kate, then back to me. Not hostile. Curious. Cautious.
Then, slowly—deliberately—he lowered the point of his spear toward the ground. Not dropping it, not surrendering, but signaling something unmistakable:
He didn't intend to attack.
Not yet.
But he was waiting for my reaction.
My heartbeat thundered. My hands shook so badly I could barely hold Kate upright.
I forced my lips to part. My voice came out barely above a whisper.
"…We mean no harm."
He blinked once. A slow, heavy blink, as if weighing the meaning of my words.
And then—he stepped one small step closer.
Just one.
Enough to send my pulse into my throat. Enough to make me inch closer to the wall. Enough to make Kate clutch my shirt with both hands.
He watched us intensely, his gaze flicking between my eyes and my hands… waiting to see if I would reach for a weapon.
The cave was silent except for the distant drip of water and our shaking breaths.
His voice came first—a series of guttural sounds, rolling syllables, completely alien to me. I blinked, trying to understand, but nothing came to mind. I stammered back, my own words awkward and useless. We stared at each other, trapped in a silence heavier than the cave itself.
Then he spoke again, more urgently this time, and began gesturing with his free hand. He pointed to the fruit on the ground, to himself, then to us—trying to make some bridge across the impossible gap of language. His eyes never left mine, sharp and searching, as if trying to measure my reaction.
The words meant nothing to me. Nothing. And yet… the intention behind them seemed… cautious. Curious.
Suddenly, he turned, moving—not toward us, but away, into the thick forest. My fingers twitched around the crude spear at my side. Heart thudding, I crept forward, peeking past the cave entrance.
Time stretched unbearably. Then, slowly… he reappeared.
This time, in his hands, was a cluster of fresh fruit—brightly colored, the kind we had been searching for for days. He stepped closer, cautiously, eyes never leaving mine.
I froze, gripping the spear tightly. My mind raced. What do I do? Should I run? Should I stay?
He stopped just short of the cave, gently placing the fruit on the ground in front of us. Then, pointing to it, he raised his hand to his mouth and mimed eating.
The message was clear. He was offering it. Not demanding, not threatening—offering.
Then, without another word, he turned and melted back into the forest, disappearing among the trees.
I exhaled slowly, the tension draining from my body in a single, shuddering breath. My hands unclenched the spear, though my grip still lingered, unwilling to let go completely.
"He… he doesn't want to hurt us," I whispered to Kate, pressing a hand to her small shoulder. She nodded silently, eyes wide. We moved forward carefully, picking up the fruit, still wary, still alert, but also… relieved.
For the first time in days, I felt a flicker of something I hadn't felt in a long time: hope.