Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/6351907.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      Multi
  Fandom:
      Far_Cry_3, Far_Cry_(Video_Games)
  Character:
      Vaas_Montenegro, Citra_Talugmai, Original_Characters, Hoyt_Volker
  Additional Tags:
      Alternate_Universe, Prequel, Canon-Typical_Violence, Other_Additional
      Tags_to_Be_Added, Implied_Relationships, Gradual_Descent_into_Madness,
      Minor_Character_Death
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-03-25 Updated: 2016-04-15 Chapters: 9/? Words: 21761
****** Jungle Fever ******
by BellChimes
Summary
     Because no matter what Egoraptor says, weed does not give you a
     spanish accent.
Notes
     I don't own Far Cry or any of it's contents
     First off I make no promises. This story will happen on it's own or
     not at all. If you push to pee, you'll just pass out. If, for any
     reason, I stop writting the full rough draft will be posted as a last
     chapter. On that news, there is, in fact, a plan. Hallelujah
     Buckle in boys and girl, this gonna be a hell of a ride.
***** Chapter 1 *****
"Aren't you excited, Mijo?" Angelina asked, turning to her son.
 The boy had been all but vibrating in his seat for the past hour. Hector
always was full of energy, never walking anywhere he could run; or, preferably,
jump, skip, or hop.  Whenever Angelina would have him help out in the kitchen,
he would spend just as much time squirming and complaining as he would sorting
beans. Manuel would come home frustrated each time he took Hector out fishing;
Hector much prefered swimming to fishing. But he was six, it was only natural
for a boy his age to be so full of life. The flight must have been torture for
her poor Cariño.
"Si, Mamá", her niño's attention barely left the airplane window. She'd had
Manuel switch seats with Hector after the fifth time he had tryed to stop the
stewardess to talk. The passing landscape was keeping him entertained at least.
A glance over at her husband revealed Manuel furisously typing on his laptop.
She was grateful to get to spend her time together with her boys, but Manuel
was in a tizzy. Their family vaccation was going to be the longest he had ever
been away from his boat, and fishing tour business in Veracruz. The week before
leaving he had done nothing but harass the poor, partime boy, who would be
running the shop while they were away. No doubt Manuel was even now composing
an email full of more contegency plans, should anyone call to book a tour.
It was going to be nice to be away from all the day to day worries of home: no
cooking and cleaning, no getting home late, tired from spening the day in the
sun. Just Angelina, Manuel, and Hector, enjoying eachother, and the beauty of
Thailand.
The plane gave a colossal lurch, causing several passengers to scream. Cussing,
Manuel reached down to pick up his laptop, which had been knocked from his
hands.
Giving Manuel the look he deserved for using such language, Angelina turned to
check on Hector, "Mi Cariño, are you okay?"
Hector turned to his mom with wide eyes and nodded.
Almost before Angelina was able to feel relief, then plane lurched once more.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, we would like to ask you to buckle your lap belts and to
remain calm," came over the speakers.
"Manuel, what is happening?", Angelina turned to her husband.
"I'm not sure." Manuel tried to grab the attention of a passing stwardess,
"Excuse me, Miss?"
"Sir, I must ask that you and your family buckle in and remain seated, until
further instruction," she responded and quickly moved further up the plane.
Angelina turned back to Hector, making sure he had fastened his seatbelt,
before securing her own.  Someone, further up the aisle from their family,
stood up to grab something from their overhead luggage. The plane shook once
more, casting the man into the passengers across from him.
With each mighty shudder, the passengers seemed to grow more panicked;
shreaking with each drop, murmering and crying amoungst themselves.
Hector clutched Angelina's hand tightly. He didn't scream, but his terror
showed in his eyes and white knuckled grip. He was breathing deep and fast.
"Hey, Mijo, I'm right here," Angelina comforted. She was quite panicked
herself, but right now she need to be strong for Hector.
"Manuel?" Angelina questioned, but he only shook his head.
"You don't think we're going to crash do you?" one of the wemon, seated in
front of them, whispered to the other. "I heard another plane crashed over
Thailand earlier this year. The papers' we're saying that it may have been a
bombing."
"What?!", hissed the other. "Why didn't you mention this earlier? We never
would have come on this trip!".
Angelina grasped Hector's hand tighter and began to pray. Please, please let
her baby make it through this.
Another jerk of the plane. More screams.
"Mamá, Mamá, look!", Hector's voice drew Angelina's attention out the window.
One of the plane's engines had caught fire.
"Ay dios mio!" Angelina gasped.
Maneul wrapped an arm firmly around her shoulders.
Gradually, the plane began to tilt, causing the overhead luggage to spill out
into the aisle, and onto passengers. The screams had become a constant at this
point. Hector had both arms wrapped firmly around his mother's now, and was
starting to cry.
Angelina almost mistook the metalic shreek for more people screaming. Then came
a sudden rush of wind, followed by, what felt like, all the air in the cabin
being sucked out. The sound continued to be drawn out as the planes hull was
pulled apart.
Angelina could no longer stop herself. As she too joined the cacophony of
screams filling the air, sheer panic set it. She didn't want to die! She didn't
want to lose her husband, or her Hector! She loved her life, and her home! All
she wanted was to be there, with them!
The screams, the blood pounding in her ears, slowly Angelina's vision started
gowing dark.
Please! Please, if nothing else, let Hector make it though this!
Angelina lost consciousness before the aircraft ever hit the water.
-----------------------
"Hey, over here!"
"There's more over this way!"
The voices seemed far off, muffled, as if they were a million miles away. Now
that they had Hector's attention though, more things started to make themselves
known. The crash of waves, the calling of gulls, the warm sand beneath his
cheek, and the cold water licking at his lower legs. And a solid weight,
pushing down on his back. As this last thing regestered, Hector seemed to come
alive. He began to kick and trash about, stirring up sand, but nothing seemed
to dislodge the heavy object.
"Hey, easy there." The voices now sounded directly above him.
More voices, a grunt, and the the weight was lifted.
Hector quickly scrambled to his feet. All around him stood people he didn't
recognize.
Where was he? How did he get here?
The beach that was for sure. But, this didn't look like any of the beaches he'd
been to before. There were far too many plants, and he couldn't see signs of
any buildings nearby.
 He hadn't gotten swept out to sea, had he? Enrique's dad had said: if they
ever swam out too far, the current would carry them away to the Island of Bad
Children! There would be no TV or candy, and they would have to do chores all
day!
Hector's brow furrowed and he began to gnaw on his lower lip.
Wait. That wasn't right though. He hadn't been swimming with Enrique, he was
sure. They hadn't been able to hang out in a while, not with his family being
so busy getting ready for-
The vacation! That right! They had driven to Mexico City, and got on the plane!
Then...
No... no,no,no! No!
Hector finally stopped and took a good look around. The beach seemed to be
littered with debris. Clothes, suitcases, and scraps of metal stretched as far
as he could see. He spotted the thing that had pinned him down, another large
hunk of metal, painted in bright color.
The strange people were casting nervous glaces amongst eachother.
Hector felt like there was a sudden vice around his neck. He could barely
breathe, only pulling shallow breathes though his nose. He could feel his eyes
beginning to burn with unshed tears. His whole body began to shake.
"Were's my mom?" Hector managed to ask. He needed to get back to her, quickly.
Right now!
More looks were tossed about.
"Your the only living person we have come across", from a man.
"No. You must have seen her!", Hector insisted. "She has long dark hair, she
would be wearing a dress, she loves dresses!"
The man shook his head.
"Where's my mom!" Hector more screamed than asked. He could feel the dam of
tears starting to break. Boys weren't supposed to cry!
Some of the group was starting to edge away. Drifting off,  digging trough the
luggage, or back into the foliage. Difting off like the grains of his control.
One woman remained.
"Hey", she said, not unkindly, "what is your name?"
"Hector," he sniffed, "Hector Montenegro".
***** Chapter 2 *****
Chapter Notes
     I don't own Far Cry, it's's characters or any of it's contents.
     Way faster than the rest of this is going to update, but I kinda
     wanted to release two chapters to start anyhow.
Hector almost couldn't make out the patch of brown fur amidst the heavy,
emerald underbrush.
The sun light filtered through the thick canopy, causing the steeks of light to
dance in the wind. All around came the trilling of insects and birds. This far
inland you couldn't hear the ocean, but you could still taste it on the breeze.
Hector slowly made a large arch around the group, hoping to get a better angle.
He was careful to remain quite, and downwind.
Hector had been crawling around the brush for, what felt like, all day. He
NEEDED to bag this deer. They hardly needed all the meat, but he would be able
to trade it for grain, vegetables, and medicine. Things he couldn't hunt in the
wild. Important things too.
Citra was sick with a fever. Had been for a couple days now. It seemed so
stupid! Back home, Hector would get sick all the time. Mamá would give him some
aspirin, rub some Vick's on his chest, and he'd feel better the next day.
Now? Now a fever could kill.
Hector missed home so much he could taste it. He longed for three, warm meals a
day. For after school snacks. For playing outside with his friends. For his
comfy bed. For his mom. Hector knew, HE KNEW, if he was just patient, patient
like his papá always said, one day someone would come looking for him. His
Uncle, his abuela, Enrique.
Hector had followed the woman from the beach, his first day on the Rook
Islands, back to her village. A ramshackle group of buildings collectively
called Beras Town. There wasn't much in Beras for a lone child. The people
weren't particularly hateful, but no one had the reasources to take on a kid. A
fact quickly proven when Hector met Citra, a four year old girl and fellow
orphan.
Five now, Citra was intellegent, strong willed and resourceful. They first met
when they found themselves seeking shelter, from one of the islands many
squalls, under the same roof overhang. It had struck Hector, for how scared and
out of place he felt, this small, frail girl seemed even more so. Of course she
then stuck him, giving him a bloody nose for trespassing on HER overhang, but
the thought stuck with him. They had quickly banded together. While none of the
villagers where cruel, lone children had a tendency to disappear whenever la
chota came through town. He didn't know how much more of a chance they stood
together, but Hector swore he would protect Citra. Looking after her was more
than a little self serving as well, it helped to distract from the harsh
reality of his new life, and she was the only piece of this world that was his
and no one else's.
The patience he never seemed to have time for at home, had certainly served him
well, here, on Rook. Hector had convinced a local hunter, Darma, to teach him
how to hunt. It had taken some work, and no small amount of tinacity. Darma
finally agreed, it was important for the children to be able to feed
themselves, but if he was going to teach Hector, he was going to do it
correctly.
First, Darma taught Hector how to track. This made Hector angery. How was
knowing if a particular set of hoof prints belonged to a boar or a pig going to
fill their bellies? Bacon was bacon. Darma, with a combination of wisdom and
tough love that would make a mandrill monkey proud, simply told him to finish
following the tracks and see if he found the answer to his question along the
way. Hector returned out of breathe and bleeding badly from a laceration on his
arm, where the boar had gored him with it's tusk. Many a lesson was learned
that day. The importance of knowing your prey, only one.
So it contiued. From tracking, they moved to how to clean an animal. This was
something Hector already had a passing familiarity with from watching his
father prepare fish. There was something unsettling about seeing the spill of
intestines and organs on such a larger scale, however. And the smell! The sent
of blood and death. It hung heavy in the air and would have been more than a
little off putting, if it hadn't ment food.
From cleaning to how to craft bows and arrows from plants found on the island.
This was another point in which Hector lost his temper, why in the world should
he need know how to do this? You could buy a bow from most any of the shops
found in the larger settlements of Rook. Metal ones, that would do a better job
than a wood one could. When asked just where Hector had gotton enough money to
buy a bow, the boy silently went back to attempting to find a suitable branch.
On to how to use a bow. Which Hector did, infact, not complain about, but for
which he still seemed to end up covered in blisters and welts. The bow was not
a forgiving mistress.
From there to stealth. Hector was not a fan. The necessity was obvious, but
Hector was a loud creature at heart. When we would play with the neighbor hood
kids, his mamá said you could hear his whooping and hollering all the way at
the end of the street. He used to love hopping down the stairs in the morning,
making as much noise as he could. Crouching, holding still, and remaining as
quite as possible made him long for the days bean sorting.
And finally, at last, Darma took Hector on a real hunt. It was successful,
thanks, in no small part, to Darma himself.
Hector had been able to find prints in the dirt. Buffalo, if he wasn't
mistaken. Darma had warned against hunting them close to towns, while they did
roam the island wild, a number of them were domesticated. They were used as
beasts if burden, and produced milk; killing one would be a serious crime.
Luckly, in this particular part of the island, no such caution was necessary.
Beras had no buffalo to call their own. The tracking of the creature was not
particularly challenging. They were, after all, following a herd of cattle.
When they had caught up to the herd Darma, teasing, asked Hector if he'd been
tracking one in particular, or if any of them would do? Hector unused to his
mentor displaying anything other than seriousness, neutrality, or
disappointment, simply stared, wondering if it was a test.
Nothing too big, keeping rotting meat around would only draw bugs and
predators. Hector selected a young heifer. Too old to be a calf, but not quite
yet reaching her full size. Gently Hector drew his bow, sure to make as little
noise as he could, he was not interested in chasing her across the island.
Hector aimed for her eye. Hs didn't feel comfertable enough yet, to try and
predict where her heart was.
Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in and release.
Hector hissed in agitation before the arrow even hit it's mark. The heifer had
turned her head, biting at her side, and the arrow missed it's mark. Luck was
on his side, Hector had fired at her head on, and the arrow lodged in her neck
instead. Hector felt a brief rush of victory, before the creature started to
scream. The wound was fatal, but would take time to kill.
Hector felt sick, the fish his papá brought home cetainly never made such
noises. The terror in her shreeks reminded him of the plane crash. Everyone
screaming, panicked over the loss of their lives.
Hector had been distracted, lost in his own mind, he didn't notice how riled up
the rest of the herd had become. They snorted and stomped, finally charging
strait for the two males. Hector looked up at the thundering deat of hooves.
Before dread could fully take hold, three loud bangs sound from right beside
Hector. He couldn't hear much over the ringing in his ears, but he watched in
wonderment as the stampeding herd quickly altered course.
When the last steer had disapeared into the vegitation, leaving only Hector's
target behind, he turned to Darma. The man stood holding a pistol in his left
hand. The adrienaline hit Hector all at once, he shook all over and it was all
he could do to remain standing. Too much at once.
Seeing his shocked pupil, Darma explained, "every action has a reaction. You
must be prepared to handle the consequences; always be aware of your
surroundings. Less the hunter falls victim to his prey."
Darma then held the gun out to Hector, handle first. When Hector just looked up
confused, he continued, "Go on, take it. May it protect you in times to come.
For now, finish what you've started."
Hector took the gun being handed to him, and approached the downed animal. She
was still alive, gurgling gasps came from both her mouth and from around the
arrow shaft. Pink frothy bubbles spilled from her mouth. Hector pressed the gun
point blank to her head.
He fired.
The arrow went clean though the deer's skull. He'd be bringing home food and
medicine tonight.
***** Chapter 3 *****
Chapter Notes
     I don't Far Cry 3 or any of it's contents.
     As you can see, for better or worse, there clearly is no portion
     controll here. Each chapter is one complete thought.
Citra and Hector lived out of a storage shed, although "shed" might be giving
the building a bit too much credit. Sure it had four corners, but only two
walls. A solid roof, though, and the walls ment that they had some protection
from the wind. An undeniable step up from their little overhang.
The Hector who had first washed up on the Rook Islands, a year ago, may have
weeped when told he had to live there. The Hector now? The Hector that followed
a strange man around pleading with him, to teach him how to kill? The Hector
with calluses on his fingers from bow strings, not pencils? The Hector who
rinsed blood off his hands on a regular basis, after skinning, and butching
animals? The Hector that just spent an hour bartering and arguing with an
adult, more than four times his age, because he didn't hesitate to try and take
advantage of a kid who shouldn't habe to fully grasp the worth of fresh meat?
That Hector? He was just happy to have a home.
Ajeng, an elderly woman who lived here in, Beras, owned the shed. She claimed
to have once used it for storing clay pots, that she made herself, ment to be
sold at market. Ever sense her hands started hurting too badly, and the last of
her creations had found homes of their own, it had sat empty. She agreed that
the two children could live there, so long as they would pay rent , in the form
of bringing her herbs found around the islands.
When Hector first encountered Ajeng, he was scared of her. She was gaunt, like
she had missed too many meals. She never seemed to hurry, but would always move
quicker than he predicted. Her hands were gnarled and boney. Her voice was thin
and raspy when she spoke, but peircing whenever she laughed. Hector was
reminded of one of the stories his mamá used to tell him. The story of two
children, lured in by the promise of candy and sweets, only to be eaten by a
witch. As time went by Hector's alarm eased. Ajeng never showed any signs of
hostility, she mostly kept to herself, and the duo kept to their own.
Still, on the rare mornings, when she would call out greetings to the pair,
offering them bits of fruit, Hector never would accept. Citra insisted he was
being rude. She would go to Ajeng making excuses for his behavior, as he
continued on his way, and Ajeng's laugh would chase him the rest of the way out
of town. If Citra thought pieces of lychee and mango were worth her life, that
was her business. Maybe Hector should tell Citra the story of Hansel and
Gretel.
Citra took care of gathering the herbs Ajeng requested. It didn't require her
to travel too far from the town, and she was far more familliar with the local
flora than he. She claimed to have learned many of the names from her mother;
usually in the form of her mother yelling at her to stay away from them.
However, when Hector recognized any of the flowers Ajeng requested while
roaming about island, he would bring some back with him. Golden beehives and
aloe were the ones Hector was most familiar with.
Hector had to pass by Ajeng's house on his way to the shed, so he stopped to
leave the days collectings in a wicker basket that sat on her porch. With Citra
sick, the gathering of herbs had fallen to him. The boy only hoped Citra got
better before the old woman grew fed up with his repetitive deliveries.
Proceeding around the building, their shed came into view. The wood was worn by
the heavy rains and strong winds of the islands. Only the back and left sides
sported walls; the front and right remained open. Victims of time and wear, or
a too small budget, the secret was one lost to the original builder. There
wasn't really a floor to the shed, but the ground was bare of plants, flat, and
hard packed from years of holding heavy objects.Hector had maneuvered some
empty, rotted crates along the front. They wouldn't keep anything out, but they
would hide anyone laying down within.
When Hector rounded the crates he was both relieved and troubled to find Citra
hadn't moved. She was still bundled up, covered in the threadbare blankets
Hector had traded for, pressed into the corner. Closer inspection revealed that
she hadn't touched any of the bread he had left her either.
"Citra," Hector called across, from where he was depositing the rest of the
days bounty: a leather bag of the remaining venison, a pouch of rice, and a
couple of carrots. All went into a lidded basket. At the bottom was a solid
layer of Indonesian laurels. Hector thought they made all the food they stored
there taste weird. Citra insisted they kept the bugs away, and as no bugs had
yet attempted to get into the basket, he was inclined to believe her.
No responce came from the slumbering girl. Hector took the last item with him
across their shared space: a bottle that he couldn't read but the trader
insisted would help with a fever.
"Citra," the boy tried again, gently laying a hand on her forehead, "Citra?"
Hector whistled long and slow. She felt like she was burning up. He would need
to bring her more water, dehydration was a surprsingly real threat in a place
with so much water.
"Princesita," he tried, using her pet name. She hated it, of course, more so
when she found out what it ment. She was not some spoiled girl living in an
ivory tower, yet whenever he called her that, he would still sometimes catch a
glimpse of her shy smile. "You need to get up. I brought you medicine from the
market."
The boy nudged her, only earning a sigh. Hector tenderly started to sit her up.
If he had any hope of her taking the medication, she needed to be upright to do
it. Just before she was all the way sitting up Citra's eyes flew open; she
started to scream and thrash about.
"Tidak! Ibu! Menjauh dari saya!"
Hector almost dropped her in his supprise. Then did, when Citra's aimless
flailing managed to land a solid hit to his jaw. Hissing he watched her
continue to thrash about. He had no idea what she was wailing about, and wasn't
entirely sure if it was another language, or utter gibberish. It sounded
vaguely familiar, maybe he had heard it around the island before.
Hector felt helpless. Citra had more or less stettled down into a litany of,
"Silahkan, silahkan, silahkan!" She appeared to be crying too. Hector had no
idea what to do.
"What is all this noise about?" came a raspy hiss from behind.
Whirling around, Hector found Ajeng scowling back at him. Oh, this wasn't good
at all! No way was he letting the witch take Citra!
"Boy, what did you do to your sister?" the old woman pushed passed Hector.
"Hey, wait! I didn't- She not-" Hector wasn't able to get out much in the way
of protest, before Ajeng was next to Citra, with the back of her hand pressed
to her forehead.
"She has a terrible temperature." Ajeng stated, more commenting to herself than
Hector.
"I know that! That's why I brought her this."
Ajeng snatched the bottle from his outstretched hand, read it, then, snorting,
tossed it to the side.
"Hey!"
"Garbage," she proclaimed. "I have just the thing for her inside."
Well, now that stung. Hector had worked hard to get that medicine, and her this
witch was throwing his things around.
Hector watched, with no small amount of satisfaction, as Citra resumed her
screaming whenever Ajeng went to lift her. He immidiately felt guilty, Citra
was clearly distressed, but at least it wasn't just him.
"Tidak! Silahkan, mau tinggal!"
Ajeng wore a perplexed look as she stared down at the sobbing girl. Another
language then.
"How long has she been like this?" it was the first, Hector felt, the woman
actually wanted his input.
"She's been running a fever for three days. This is the first I've seen her
acting this way."
After another wary glance at Citra, Ajeng adressed Hector once more, "I'm going
to need your help moving her. We must be quick, or she's going to wake the
whole village."
Hector didn't like this. He didn't want Ajeng involved at all, much less trying
take Citra away, into her home. However, Hector had promised himself that he
would look after her. If the medication he had bartered for at market really
was no good, and he would in no way put it past the smarmy vendor, and if their
neighbor really could help, he couldn't, in good conscience, stop her.
"Okay," he apprehensivly agreed.
Hector and Ajeng ended up bundling Citra back up in their blankets, kicking and
screaming, and carring her into Ajeng's house. The elderly woman was stronger
than Hector had expected, lifting more than her fair share of their shreeking
parcel. Both where out of breathe by the time they had transfered Citra to
Ajeng's pallet.
Hector had never been inside Ajeng's home before. It was small and what a
kinder eye might have called cozy, but Hector was just inclined to call crampt.
The pallet Citra currently rested upon was shoved against the wall nearest the
door, not more than a foot or so above the ground. Stretching along the same
wall as the door, was a counter covered in bowls and jars. More jars lay
nestled on a series of wooden shelves above the counter. A small table was
pushed parallel to the counter, with barely enough room for an adult to squeeze
through. A pair of rickety chairs sat flanking it. Herbs and plants hung from
racks all around the room, even above the makeshift bed. A small fireplace was
in the far wall, the only aspect of the building that demanded empty space
around it. Crampt or not, the house, which was really more of a room, gave off
a feel of warmth.
By the time Hector had finished his inspection of the home, Ajeng had gotten
up, and made her way to the aforementioned fireplace. Hanging above it was a
pot, Ajeng stirred something inside, before ladeling out a portion into a
wooden bowl.
"Good thing this old woman doesn't eat as much as she used to," Ajeng muttered
to herself.
The witch came bustling back over to the pair, carrying the bowl.
"Here, try to get her to drink as much of this as you can," she pushed the bowl
into Hector's hands.
"What is it?" Hector asked, eyeing the brown liquid skeptically.
"Bone broth," the woman grunted, making her way over to the counter and a stone
mortar and pestle. Hector's abuela used to make broth for him, whenever he got
sick. He didn't trust this old woman, but he did trust his abuela. The broth
would be acceptable to give to Citra.
Hector turned back to the sick girl, she seemed to have calmed down. She wasn't
speaking in her strange lagauge or crying anymore, she had mostly settled on
shivering. Ajeng hadn't given him a spoon to accompany the bowl, so Hector
tried lifting the bowl to her lips. At this angle he was just going to spill it
all over her face. Looking around, Hector found some extra blankets folded next
to the bed. He balled one up and carefully maneuvered it to prop up her head.
Once again the youth brought the edge of the bowl to Citra lips. What ever
delirious state she had been in before seemed to have passed, now she lay
weakly against her provisional pillow. Unresisting she allowed Hector to gently
open her mouth, and pour some of the warm liquid in.
Hector clucked at her, as most of it came running back out, down her chin.
Wiping up the spill with a corner of her blanket, Hector tried again, "Come on,
Princesita, you need to drink."
Citra swallowed a little on the second pour. Seeming to realize how famished
she was, she consumed all of the next.
"Careful, you don't want to-"
Ajeng was cut off by a loud pounding at her door. The force was uncalled for,
the door was little more than a flimsy peice of wood, and it shuddered in it's
hinges with each knock. Citra flinched away, withdrawing back into her coma
like shell. Seeing her fear enraged Hector. Who dare frighten his Princesita?
Ajeng sedately cleaned her hands on a rag before making her way to the door.
The banging had already restarted before she opened it.
On the other side of the threshold stood two burly, men. One bald and slightly
taller than the other, who had close cropped black hair. Both were dressed in
the khaki uniform of the Rook Islands Police. La chota.
"And what reason might two officers have for disturbing an old woman this late
at night?" Ajeng questioned. Her voice may have been thin, but it held steel.
"We've heard reports of screaming coming from this house." Baldy accused,
"We've come by to make sure there was no trouble."
The tone of his voice made Hector wonder if he hadn't come over to start some
of his own.
"Well as you can see, the situation has been handled, please be on your way."
Ajeng's voice was frosty, she clearly held no love for Rook's "law
enforcement".
For that matter no one Hector had met did. Rook Island's police were a farce.
The island had no real laws and very little government. They were released onto
the island when the mining lords had come to Rook, as a way of protecting their
intrests from the percieved threat of the natives. The police were the private
military of these business magnates, who only job was to enforce the whims of
their patrons.
As the nickle mines dried up the miners left; all but a few. Noah Ward was a
large, dark skinned man, from Australia, who came here along with all the
others of his ilk. Noah had remained even as the mines dried up. He singularly
controlled la chota, and fancied himself the president of Rook now.The police
largely ran rampant over the islands now, like an invasive species. They
torment the locals, and were known to drag people off into the night.
"You wouldn't mind if we came in, to make sure everyone's alright, would you."
It wasn't a question, and Baldy had already shoved his way in. His partner
followed quickly behind, stopping in front of Ajeng, blocking her from moving
further into the house.
Baldy took a passing glance at the rest of the building before stopping on
Hector and Citra. Hector had placed the bowl of broth on the ground, and was
doing his best to stand between Citra's limp form and the man, who must have
towered the better part of two and a half feet over him.
"And who's this? Not the source of all the sheeking I'd hope." The man leered
down at Hector. The boy did his best to match him dirty look, for dirty look.
"My grandson," Ajeng claimed. The youth hadn't expected that, for all that
there was no love lost between the police and the locals, not too many dared to
stand up to la chota either. Hector's suprise caused him to jump breaking eye
contact. The pendejo won this round.
Baldy's smile just grew, "And the girl?"
Hector didn't like this man. AT ALL.
In a moment of inspiration, remembering Ajeng's words from earlier, Hector
answered, "My sister." The youth may have lost their staring contest, but like
hell he was letting this cabrón anywhere near his Citra.
"And just how is a woman, so up in her years, able to support two young
children?" Baldy never glanced away. "If such burdens should become, too much,
you know the President is always looking for new workers for his mines. You
would be compensated of course."
Pendejo.
"Thank you for your concern, but they're no trouble at all. They're quite self-
sufficient," Ajeng's voice betrayed her growing irritation. "If Ward is in such
desperate need for miners, surely strong men such as your selves would be
better suited to the task, than children?"
A snarl breifly crossed his face, "I'm sorry,nenek, are we bothering you?"
Baldy's attention had swung to Ajeng now. Hector could feel it's absence, like
a physical thing.
"Ajeng, are these men bothering you?" a voice parroted from the still open
doorway.
Darma stood, filling the enteryway. Baldy's partner, who Hector had yet to come
up with a name for, as there was nothing particularly remarkable about him
other than his lack of remarkableness, seemed to grow agitated by the arrival
of the other man. They had come to terrorized children and old women, not
weapon weilding warriors. Hector tried to send subtle looks of pleading Darma's
way, which really weren't all that subtle. More like wide eyed looks that
screamed "HELP!"
"Not at all. These kind men had come by to check on us, when they heard young
Citra's screaming. I believe they were just on their way out," Ajeng calmly
answered from her position of being overtly dominated.
Baldy looked put out. He had two options at this point: leave, like the old
woman had suggested, or start a confrontation with the hunter as well. And
Darma didn't promise to be nearly so easy of prey.
"Yes, as the nenek says, we were just leaving," Baldy made his way back to the
door, his fidgety partner close behind. "Keep our offer in mind, would you?" He
called back as he continued down the steps.
Darma turned back to the group, eyebrow raised. Hector had fallen to a sitting
position at Citra's side. Relief made his knees weak, and a sudden wave of
tiredness washed over him. It had been a long day. Ajeng had already wandered
back to her mortar, and had picked up where she left off, mashing herbs
together.
"Thank you, Darma," Hector spoke up.
"Are you okay?"
"Yes, yes," Ajeng waves off his concern, walking back over to Hector carrying
the mortar. "Here, add this too the broth, this will help bring down the young
lady's fever."
Hector quickly grabbed the bowl from the floor, and held it up for Ajeng.
Whatever mistrust he held had been forgotten after her display of solidarity.
She dumped the contents into the soup, and gave it a quick stir with her
pestle.
"There, try that."
Hector went back to his task of feeding Citra as the adults finished talking.
"Do not worry so much, Darma. The child is correct, though, thank you. Noah's
goons are getting bold," Ajeng adressed the hunter.
Darma nodded, "I came to check on you when I saw one of their trucks parked out
front."
"Now, Darma, what is a man like you doing out and about at a time like this?
Not bothering a nice lady friend I trust," Ajeng's tone had taken on a teasing
quality.
"Ajeng," Darma sighed sounding put upon.
Hector tuned them out, focusing on Citra. She had finished the last of the
broth, and was settling into a deep sleep.
"Feel better, Princesita," the boy urged.
It was late and Hector was very tired. One stressful event had seemed to lead
right into the next. He could feel his eyes starting to droop, lulled by the
sound of the bickering adults. It wasn't long before he had fallen asleep next
to his Citra.
***** Chapter 4 *****
Chapter Notes
     I don't own Far Cry 3 or any of it's contents
Hector's tío stood on the beach, he looked exactly like Hecto remembered. His
close buzzed hair, and sun darkened skin. Ramón wore a clean, blue, button up
shirt, pressed, white Burmuda shorts, dock shoes, and, what were probably knock
off, Ray Bans.
Hector wanted to weep. He hadn't seen his uncle in over a year. Ramón helped
out his papá, Ramón's brother, with his fishing tours. He used to take Hector
to the swap meet to get churros every Saturday, and would spend the rest of the
day playing football with him, or just chasing the ball down the beach. It was
so good to see him. To see a peice of home, after all this time.
Hector first became aware of the fact he was dreaming, when he couldn't figure
out how his tío had gotten to the island. There was no boat, plane, or
helicoptor. Not that he could have afforded to bring any of those things, to
come looking for Hector. This didn't stop the boy from running toward his uncle
anyway. He would have given anything to hug Ramón again. Even if it was only
here, on a beach of his own imagining.
Just before Hector had reached the sand, Ramón seemed to notice him. The youth
smiled big and waved like crazy. Something was wrong though, Ramón was staring
right at him, but he looked bewildered, he didn't know Hector.
How could he not remember him? It had only been a year, he had known Ramón his
whole life.
The boy looked down at himself. He hadn't grown that much, maybe an inch or
two. He knew his hair was longer than he used to keep it, turns out, there
aren't too many barbers on Rook. A sure, he never used to wear clothes like
these, he'd always run around in bold colors, t-shirts with cartoon characters,
and sneakers that lit up with each step. Hector liked to dress as loud and
bright as he was himself. Now he wore a faded blue shirt and brown cargo
shorts. He had traded out his red, t-rex shirt and yellow shorts, for the more
muted colors, not long after reaching the islands. Loud and bright was not a
good thing for a hunter to be. Both articles had seen mileage, they were dusted
in dirt and sand.
Hector reached up to brush off his shirt, and noticed he had blood under his
fingernails. He couldn't tear his eyes away from them. Bloody nails and Ramón
didn't belong to the same Hector.
As he watched the blood seemed to ooze out and trickle down his fingers. Hector
started to panic, Ramón was going to see, and then he'd leave! He'd see and
know that Hector was a fraud! The boy knew there was no physical way so much
blood could be comming from under his nails, but it continued to travel down
onto his hands. No, no, no, no!
When Hector looked back up Ramón was walking away, further down the beach.
Hector started to run after him, he just had to explain, and his tío would
understand, he always understood. No matter how hard he ran, though, his tío
never got any closer.
The boy wanted nothing more than to hold his uncle. For just the moment, forget
that they were lost somewhere in the Pacific ocean, and pretend they were back
home.
Hector knew this was just a stupid dream, HE KNEW, but that didn't stop him
from crying. Even here, in his own mind, the boy wasn't afforded such simple
comforts. Hector stopped trying to catch up and huddled down on himself,
covering his head with his red soaked hands.
Hector just wanted to wake up. Wake up, wake up, wake up. WAKE UP!
Hecror jolted alert. He didn't recognize his surroundings at first. A glance
around revealed that he was in Ajeng's home.
That's right, he had fallen asleep watching Citra. He lay draped across the
foot of Ajeng's little pallet, his lower body seated on the floor.
Sleep still hung heavy in the air of the small home. All the lights were out
and the fireplace was down to smoldering embers. The ambient light seeping
through the cracks in the walls indicated the rise of the sun, as did the
beginnings of bird song lifting into the air. Inside the building, Hector was
able to ignore it for longer than he would have been able to in the shed, where
the sunlight would come streaming right through the wall less east side of
their home. Ajeng was lightly snoring from her perch in one of the wooden
chairs. Hector could feel Citra's legs underneath his head.
He didn't want to get up, he knew the moment he did, the stitch in his side,
from sleeping in his position, would make itself known. That the taste in his
mouth would begin to drive him nuts. Once he got up, he would be expected to do
things, and that seemed like far too much effort right then. He hadn't had a
lazy morning in forever.
Hector felt movement in the bed, and looked up towards Citra. She was smiling
down at him gently.
"Selamat pagi," Citra whispered her usual greeting. That brought a smile to his
face.
"Hey," he rasped back. He made a face, yep, his mouth tasted horrendous.
Citra's smile grew, and it was worth it.
"You're feeling better then?" Hector kept his voice low, he didn't want to ruin
the tenor of the morning. Nor did he want Ajeng up, chasing them out of her
house yet.
Citra's eyes fluttered shut, then opened once more. "Better," she confirmed
squeezing his hand. He hadn't even noticed that he was holding it until that
moment.
He flushed, but didn't pull away, it would have been rude, and he didn't really
want to anyway.
"Hector?" Citra sounded suddenly insistent.
"Yeah?"
"Where are we?"
Hector almost didn't stop the laugh in time, his relief was making him giddy
"Ajeng's house," he answered bluntly, just to see the look on her face.
Incredulous. It was incredulous.
"She said she could help; I was worried about you," Hector admitted. "You got
really bad thre for a while."
"I am sorry for worring you," she seemed to relax, taking him at face value.
"Yeah. For a bit there, I thought you were speaking in tongues," Hector tried
for humor.
Citra smiled at his antics, she didn't always know what the boy was on about,
but would indulge him anyway.
"Did I?" she asked amuzed.
"Mmm hmm," Hector hummed. "You were talking in that other language, but it just
sounded like algarabía to me."
"What?" she giggled, "What kind of word is that?"
"It's true! You said something about 'mou tingger' or something."
She flinched.
"Citra?" he asked raising his head, if she was in pain he would do whatever he
could to help.
She gave him a smile, though this one looked forced. "Mau tinggal," she
clairified. "I want to stay," she whispered as an after thought.
"Citra?" he tried again. He was missing something, and he wanted to help.
Her smile looked broken. "You have told me so much about where you've come
from, Hector. You have told me about your parents, about your school. You told
me about your favorite television shows, and all your friends. I do not think I
have told you about my home."
What an odd thing to say, the islands were Citra's home. There's no way she had
come here like him, planes didn't crash that often. And he was sure he had
heard her speaking to some of the locals in their own language.
His confusion must have shown, "I am not from Beras Town. I come from another
town further west. I came here after I lost my home."
Oh...
"What happened?" Hector regretted it the moment after he asked. Nothing good.
She certainly hadn't been living by herself when he found her, because she
liked being hungery and alone.
Citra was quiet for a long moment.
"Ibu and I lived there sense I could remember. Bapak had died before I had been
born," Citra looked miles away. Hector could only assume these people were her
parents. Odd to call them by name, perhaps this was more of her own language?
"We only really had eachother. Ibu had a sister who lived with her husband on
the south island, but we never saw them... My aunt and uncle."
Citra had trailed off into a grim silence.
Hector wanted to stop her. She didn't have to tell him anything! He didn't want
her to be upset. He only told her so much about home, because he never was
capable of being silent for too long. He only really ever was quiet when he was
asleep or stalking prey, and even then he would use his fingertips to silently
tap out a rythm on his bow. During the long nights, when he would be waiting
for sleep to claim him, the words would just come tumbling out of him. Citra
didn't owe him any kind of explination.
Hector squeezed her hand and told her as much.
"No. I want you to know," she imparted, "someone should know. I would like for
it to be you."
Hector nodded his assent. If she wanted to talk about something so clearly
painful, who was he to stop her?
"Ibu had gotten sick, we had been outside for a long while in the rain the day
before. It was unusual, we had been caught in the rain before, but this time
Ibu stayed in bed caughing all the next day and the day after that. I remember
thinking about how hungery I was, and that I really did not want to eat old
bread again. I felt helpless too, I wanted to help her I just did not know
how." Hector could relate.
She looked so serious, so much more mature than a five year old should. Usually
when Citra acted mature it annoyed Hector, what did she know? But now? This was
different. She looked like this when Hector had first found her under that
protruding roof. Hollow eyes, and solemn expression, Hector thought she had
looked like el Sacomán had drained all the life from her. Like there was
nothing left in all the world for her. Her joy was gone.
"It only got worse... She was so frail at the end," it was the first real
emotion to enter her voice thoughout the whole story so far, Citra sounded
heartbroken. "She wanted to live so badly, not for herself, I think, but for
me. She only ever kept talking about how I should not worry, she was going to
look out for me, that I would not be alone. That someone would come look after
me." Silent tears ran down her face, juxtaposed from last night. "I did not
want someone to come for me, I wanted my mother. Without her, there was nothing
for me."
Hector didn't know what to say. He remembered how he felt, when he first woke
on Rook's beaches. He had felt like the world was collapsing, and he was the
only one who seemed to notice. Hector's grief was much like the rest of him,
loud, passionate, and lurid. He sat on the beach, for hours, screaming, crying,
and lashing out at the sand. He had raged, mourning his parents, under the
watchful eye of Bethari, the only person who seemed to acknowledge his grief,
if not take part. The kind woman turned out to be one of the workers from
Beras's rice paddies, and Hector had followed quietly, hollowly, after her as
they left the beach. Things that burn so bright cannot last long. Hector still
missed his parents a great deal, but he no longer stayed up crying at night,
like he did that first month. Citra's pain was a slow, simmering thing.
"Why come here to Beras? Why not stay home, where you grew up?" Hector asked.
The tears continued to fall, but her voice was once again devoid of life,"When
my aunt and uncle heard about Ibu's death they came to our house. I think I was
still too sad to really absorb their presence. They came and started to move in
their things. They said that, they did not really have a place of their own
back on the south island, that they just drifted from town to town. They said
that they too were going to miss Ibu, but were happy that they could finally
settle down. They said they were going to finally have a real family. They were
so, so... happy!" Citra had really worked herself up by this point. "I did not
know what to do. All I wanted was to mourn my mother's death, and all these
penyusup wanted was start a new life on top of ours! When it had not yet even
finished ending!" Citra spat.
Hector was appalled. He couldn't imagine Uncle Ramón ever acting that way.
He felt a little nauseous at the thought of his tío. He couldn't pinpoint why.
Everytime he thought too hard about it, the answer would flit away from him.
Citra lay breathing heavily, and Hector wondered if this wasn't a bad idea. She
had just been sick the day before. Delirious, when she wasn't laying weak as a
kitten. She should probably be relaxing, not dredging up horrible memories.
Citra had asked him to listen though.
Citra drew in a harsh breath before continuing, "They were so excited to start
their new family, and I just wanted them gone. They wanted their new life, and
I was in their way. A reminder of the last people to live there, a relic of a
dead family. They asked me to leave, they asked me to leave on my own or they
would force me." She shuddered, weither from revulsion, sick, or cold the boy
didn't know, and wouldn't blame her for any combination of the three.
"So I left," she said succintly. "In the end, we all got what we wanted. They
got their stupid building, and I got to get away from them."
"Citra I..." don't really know what to say. "I'm sorry." Hector finished
lamely.
"It will be okay, Hector. There was nothing for me there anymore, not really."
"Memories, they took away the place with all the memories of your mom," Hector
defended. What he was defending, he wasn't sure, but he didn't like the way she
had just given up.
"My memories are here," she held a hand to her head, "and here." The hand
lowered to her heart. "Besides in the end someone did come for me. He just was
not nearly so helpful as Ibu had been expecting," Citra finished with a pinch
to his arm.
"Hey!" he whined.
His Princesita was brave. In her position, Hector didn't know what he would
have done. Gone to his abuela's he supposed, but Citra hadn't had that option.
It made Hector wonder what drew her to Beras. He, however, wasn't interested in
poking any more tender areas, and was more than willing to change the
conversation. And he thought he knew just the thing to cheer her mood.
"You know, Ajeng says we're like family," Hector indecated the two of them.
"Odd," the woman in question commented. "I recall making no such statement,"
Ajeng was awake, staring at the two children.
Hector jumped at the sound of her voice. He hadn't been expecting her to wake
up, which, concidering how much noise they'd been making, was just silly.
Citra was watching the two carfully. Considering Hector's attitude towards
Ajeng, as of the last time she had been fully aware, him casually mentioning
the old woman, in any manner, other than, perhaps, blaming her the cause of a
sudden squall, seemed oddly bizzare. She was delighted to see that the two were
getting along, or, at least, talking to eachother. She was actually very fond
of Ajeng, herself.
"Yeah-huh," Hector argued, he was just glad Citra was smiling again. "You
called her my sister last night!"
"Hah! I believe that was you dear boy," Ajeng antagonized. She was smiling
herself.
"Hector, you called me your sister? Should I be calling you Abang? " Citra
joined in the hijinks.
"Only after Ajeng said it first!" He wasn't upset, not really, but he was more
than willing to act rediculous if it would keep that happy look on Citra's
face.
***** Chapter 5 *****
Chapter Notes
     I don't own Far Cry 3 or any of it's content.
     Edit: Italicized all the words in other languages
"Will you pass me the knife, Princesita?"
Citra had been feeling better for a couple of weeks now. She had stayed with
Ajeng for another night, to make sure she wouldn't relapse, then moved back out
to the shed with Hector. Ajeng said, that she enjoyed having the company of the
two young ones, but she had grown too old to sleep in chairs anymore.
It was back to business as usual, for Hector. He woke up each morning, just as
the sun crested the water, and would wade out into the ocean, to wash off the
blood, sweat, and dirt from the day before. The cool water always helped to
chase the last vestiges of sleep from his mind. He'd brush his teeth with sand
from the beach. Then lay out to bask in rising sun on his favorite rock, a
particularly large bolder not far from the water.
Hector used to hate brushing his teeth, back home, but now he might just kill
for a tooth brush and some tooth paste. In fact, Hector would have to see about
bartering for a pair the next time he made it to Badtown. If the vendor wasn't
interested in fresh meat, he had saved up some cash from selling pelts. Game
was just easier, he knew where the hunting was good, but not all merchants,
especially ones in small towns like Beras, dealed in cash money.
After his rutin de la mañana, Hector would head back to the shed to wake up
Citra. He would cube some fruit for breakfast, while she went and did whatever
it was girls did in the morning. After they ate, they would head out of Beras
together. One big change to his schedule, whenever Ajeng did call out to them
in the mornings, Hector would go over, alongside Citra, to chat.
Even though Hector kept an eye out, he saw no further sign of Baldy, or his
lickspittle lacky. And good ridance. Beras was too small for any sort of
regular "policing".
Hector didn't always leave town to hunt. They didn't eat that much, nor would
the jungle around Beras be able to support them if they did. On his "days off"
, Hector would find Darma and acompany his mentor, either on a hunt of his own
or simpling tracking the local fauna. It helped Hector to keep his skills
sharp, and allowed him to become familiar with more of the island. The man
never complained when the boy would show up next to him, he would just nod and
give a few pointers on how to move more noislessly through the ferns. Darma was
knowlegeable about a number of things, to become a part of your surroundings,
you needed to understand them. He would share this understanding with the young
boy. Hector always returned excited to use the new information on his next solo
trip.
At first, the youth had been apprehensive, before going out on a hunt. His
heart would race, his breathing became rapid, 'what if's would swarm the boys
head like sharks to chum. He felt like a kid that had been given a bow and
wished the best of luck. Like maybe one of the goats, that roamed Rook, was
going to turn around and declare him for the fraud he was. As time passed, and
he rose to meet each challenge as it was presented to him, however, Hector came
to enjoy the chase. Figuratively of course, any actual chasing was a sign of a
poor hunter. It wasn't just the act, either. Stalking prey with Darma was all
fine and good, but there was something infinently satisfying about the kill at
the end of a successful hunt. It was proof that he was able to survive and
thrive, in his new enviroment. As if, with each animal he brought down, he was
less of the scared boy, and more a part of the islands themselves.
It was freeing, liberating, but intimidating. Each step he took towards
intigrating into Rook, was another step away from Veracruz. Every time he
adapted more to this place, the prospect of returning home seemed less and less
likey. He wanted to be a part of this place, a functioning cog in the mechine,
not a hanger-on that survived off the good graces, meger though they were, of
those around him... But he also wished to see his abuela again, to play games
with Enrique. He felt torn.
Citra was his constant. She was his priority. His internal struggles came after
his ability to provide for her, which, convenietly, provided for him as well.
It was a consolation to Hector, after all, what kind of monster would leave a
young girl to starve? It would be selfish of him to stop now, just for the
chance to see his old home again. In the interm, he would just keep getting
better at what he was doing. Keep becoming more a part of this place. And maybe
NOT, occasionally, spend half the day following the blood trail of a mortally
wounded deer, all across Rook.
Citra still collected plants from around Beras for Ajeng, but now she would
stay after her delivery to help out around the old woman's house. The girl
claimed that, when Ajeng found out that she already knew one end of goat's foot
from the other, she had insisted Citra help her in making the latest batch of
jellyfish ointment. While Hector wasn't sure what the lower appendage of a four
legged herbivore had to do with medicine, Citra seemed to be happy, and that
was good enough for him. She was also thrilled that the old witch had promised
to teach Citra more about Rook's plantlife.
The children had taken to eating dinner with their landlady. Hector would bring
over food stuffs, whenever he got back, and they would all fix dinner together.
The boy would take care of preparing any meat, or helping to cut up vegitables,
while the two females squabbled over which seasoning would taste best, or if
the carrots should be added now or in another three minutes. The two had really
started to grow close now that they spent so much time together, all evidence
to the contrary. Hector would never take sides, at least not out loud, but he
prefered Ajeng's cooking. She liked to use strong, bold spices that reminded
Hector of home, where Citra prefered sweet flavors.
And so their days went, without much real variation.
Tonight was one such night, and Hector was preparing to cut into a jackfruit,
for their curry.
"Why do you insist on calling me that?" Citra asked, handing him the requested
blade. "You know where I have come from; I am nothing like a princess."
She had gotten like that not long after telling Hector about her past, as if
the actions of her relatives would in some way make him think less of her.
Ridiculous.
Hector sent a quick thanks to his cousin. He used to hate when she came over,
she would demand on watching stupid girl movies all day, and his mamá insisted
that he needed to be nice and share the TV. That wasn't sharing, that was
forfeiting any say whatsoever! It was one of the reasons he had been so
enthusiastic about the Aladin movie, that was coming out, that was already out
now he'd imagine, he actually wanted to see it, and it had one of Francisca's
princesses in it.
"Actually, I think you are," his proclaimed, his gaze sliding slyly towards
Citra. Hector had taken to telling Citra stories, from back home, before they
fell asleep each night. At first it had helped him to forget where he was, to
drown out the noise of the alien wildlife moving freely, just outside their
shed.The stories, real or fabled, had become a part of their nightly routine.
He was never particularly subdued, but he became even more animated when
telling one of his tales; gesturing with his whole body, and adding in his own
sound effects. Recognizing this change in his demeanor, Citra mentally settled
in.
"Did I ever tell you the story of 'Snow White and the Seven Dwafs'?" Hector
asked rhetorically, as he sliced into the fruit.
-----------------------
"Konyol," Ajeng proclaimed, from where they all sat around her little table.
The elderly woman had found a stool, from somewhere, for Hector after their
group dinners became procedure. They had finished eating a small while ago.
"There's no way a kiss, 'true love' or no, brought that girl back from the
dead."
"She wasn't dead, she was under a spell," the boy defended weakly. He didn't
much care for the ending himself.
"Well, I thought it was a nice story," Citra told him.
She had smiled throughout most of it, and that had been his real goal. Not all
princesses lived in castles, some even lived in small homes, and cooked meals
over a fireplace. He was glad she had enjoyed it, even if he had spent more
time, than strictly necessary, describing the monsters Snow White had seen in
the trees, and the dugeons of the evil, witch queen. They were the parts of the
movie that had stuck with him most.
"Bah," Ajeng threw her hands up, ruining what little the girl's comment had
done to improve his mood.
"Fine, let's hear YOUR story then," Hector huffed. He was a great story teller,
it wasn't his fault it all ended with girly nonsense. If Ajeng was going to be
like that, she could tell her own stories!
"Hmm," she leaned back in her chair, actually taking his comment into
consideration. Hector was still miffed, but Citra seemed excited by the idea of
two stories in one night.
"I think the story of the Lotus Pond would be acceptable," Ajeng determined.
The boy already didn't like where this was going.
The young girl brightened up though, "Oh! My ibu used to tell me this story!"
It was, apparently, a favorite.
"Indeed, all Rakyat are told the story," the woman told Citra fondly.
"Rakyat?" Hector tried to clarify, the unfamiliar word gaining his unwilling
intrest.
"Hush," Ajeng scolded, earning her a scowl, "we have not yet reached that part
of the story."
"You haven't started the story at all!" the boy groused. Quieting after another
hush, and a dirty look from Citra. He settled in; this had better be good.
"Once, long ago, there was a lotus pond. It was filled with crystal water, and
the finest of white sands lined it's shores. Countless blossoms broke the
water's surface, in all manner of riotous color.
"The pond was valued, by the nearby town, for it's beauty, but more so for it's
purity. You see, their country has been at war with itself for some time.
Brother turned on brother, mothers strangled their infants, and fathers raped
their daughters. Fields had been salted, homes had been burned, and their
rivers all ran red with the bloated bodies of their neighbors."
Hector took it back, he clearly hadn't put enough detail into the dungeon.
Citra's mother used to tell her this story?
"The people of the nearby town had sustained themselves off of the small
streams that came trickling from the pond. The water was clean and untouched by
the poison that floated in their rivers, for it sprang forth from beneath the
surface, much like the blooms. The towns people fought for control of these
streams, and gradually the rot contaminated them as well.
"The people, in their great desperation approached the pond itself. They did
not wish to disturb the sacred lotus blossoms, but had no other recourse. As
they drew close, a mighty giant rose up from the waters and slaughtered every
last one of them. Only returning beneath the surface, after all traces of the
towns people had been removed."
Hector had been completely drawn into the story now, and listened with rapt
attention. Citra, however, had started to fade. She still listened, but the boy
could see her tell tale signs for encroaching sleep.
"Word of the lotus pond reached the king of this land, who sent forth many of
his men, to bring him back it's clean water. Each man he sent was great and
fierce, but none ever returned. He then sent forth a plea, that should any
strong warrior bring down the giant, he would be rewarded richly.
"One such warrior, hailing from the north, hearing of the peoples plight, came
to their land. He was not drawn by the glimmer of fortune, but by the suffering
of the population. When he arrived and saw the state of the land, he was
horrified. The nation suffered from so much more than this giant.
"The warrior wanted to do what he could for the people though, so he painted
his body with the tatau, that he may draw strength and wisdom from his
ancestors. As he approached the pond, the scent of lotus blossoms reached his
nose. It was the first breath, free of the stench of rot and decay, he had
breathed since coming to the country. When he stood before the waters no giant
came forth to fight him, like he had been warned. The water's surface was
broken by nothing more than the blooms that for which the pond was named. Even
as he reached down, and drank from it's depths.
"The warrior was baffled, how was he to fight an enemy that would not appear?
He took a wineskin of the clear water with him, as he made his way back to the
king. The king however, was not satisfied with this. He wanted the giant dead,
for daring to live in his lotus pond, and for killing his men. The king was
going to be his full might against this monster.
"The warrior made his way, once more, to the pond. And this time the giant did,
indeed, greet him, but still did not attack.
"'Why do you aid these people?' the giant asked in his booming voice.
"The warrior answered honestly, 'Because they are in need. Why do you kill
those who try to drink from the pond?'
"'I do not, the deer often come here to drink. Everyday, for a year, a small
child made her way to these waters for sustenance, before the girl's defiled
body was used to poison one of my streams. You came here they day before, and I
did not lift a hand to stop you.'
"'But why?' the warrior asked
"'Because you carry no ill will for this place.'
"'And all those other people did?'
"'Look around you human, I am not responsible for the suffering you see. Only
the protection of this pond,' the giant urged.
"'The king is on his way here, now,' the warrior divulged.
"'Then he too, I shall remove from my shores,' came his responce.
"For all the suffering he saw, the horrors he witnessed, the warrior could not
turn his back on the people. 'Then I must stop you.'
"The warrior raised his blade to the giant, and cut his head from his
shoulders."
"But wait!" Hector interrupted. "The king! He's coming! He will destroy the
lotus pond too!"
"And so he did," Ajeng answered, sagely.
"What kind of story is this?" the boy protested. "Things just went from bad to
worse."
"And what would you have done? Would you have left the nation to die?" the old
woman asked.
Hector stopped, and really thought about the dilemma, before giving his answer.
"But they died anyway," Hector grumbled. "The last of the water was poisoned,
and everyone died."
A glance to his side revieled that Citra had lost her fight too, and lay
sleeping with her head cradled in her arms. Sometimes it was easy to forget how
young she was.
"I did not say that," Ajeng chided.
"You just said the king ruined the water!" the youth argued.
"Yes, but the warrior created a new land, for all of the men and women. A land
untouched by the depravity of the old. From the giants head, the warrior
crafted the Rook islands, to be a paradise, but also a test. A second chance
for the people to prove themselves.
Hector didn't like it. It seemed cheap, the people had willfully destroyed
their home, and now they were just given a new one. Just 'cause someone had
come along to magically fix all their problems. That wasn't any better than a
necromantic kiss of love.
Disregarding the boy's sour look Ajeng continued, "The desendants of that long
ago nation live here on Rook, today. And the desendants of the warrior are the
Rakyat tribe. All Rakyat children are told this story, as a cautionary tale,
lest the islands become as corrupt as the land our ancestors hailed from."
"So, Citra's supposed to be the great great grandkid of this warrior?"
"That is correct," the elder confirmed. "Not all Rakyat are born into the
tribe. Outsiders have been known to be admited, under exceptional
circumstances, but to become Rakyat, is to leave one's old life behind. The new
members would then be considered spiritual decendants of the warrior as well.
Citra, Darma and myself are all Rakyat."
It was a lot to absorb. All three of the induviduals, Hector had come to
interact, spend time with, and trust, since coming to Rook, were Rakyat. He
supposed nothing had truly changed, but it added a new layer of perspective to
all his interactions.
It had gotten very late by this point. There would be plenty of time tomorrow,
to think on the story and this new revelation.
The boy carried Citra's limp form with him back to their shed, a feat he would
have been incapable of back home. She did not rouse, only snuggled closer to
Hector warmth with a content sigh. Leech. He smiled anyway.
Hector dreamed of enormous giants, rivers of blood, and misguided heros that
night.
***** Chapter 6 *****
Chapter Notes
     I don't own Far Cry 3 or any of it's contents.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
The two children sat perched on Hector's bolder. Citra was brushing out the
youth's hair. The faded yellow, plastic hairbrush was one of the only
posessions the girl had owned when Hector first met her. The scissors, that sat
next to her, were newer.
He could fall asleep, just like this. The sun shone down warm, and ever present
in the cloudless sky.The light breeze coming off the water tousled his clothes
on it's way past, providing cool relief, keeping "warm" from becoming "hot".
Even back in Veracruz, the sound of ocean waves crashing was a familar and
constant companion. Gulls could be heard a ways off, their shrieks a sharp
counter point to the rolling of the surf.
The gentle tug of the brushes plastic teeth, made another pass along his scalp
and through his hair. Hector sighed in pleasure.
A giggle from behind him.
"Yes, Princesita?" the boy drawled, loathed to open his eyes.
"Nothing, Abang," the younger girl appeased. "You remind me of a cat," she
confessed.
"Is that a bad thing?" he murmered contently.
Hector tried to cut his hair every couple of months. Otherwise, it would grow
out, hang in his eyes, and just generally be in the way. He had, the first few
times, attempted this himself using his hunting knife, and the results had been
somewhat wanting. The boy's mop had been uneven, and choppy; he couldn't reach
the back of his head very well, much less see what he was doing. It'd gotten
the job done, but one morning, when Citra had caught him in the act, she had
insisted on taking over. The end results had been much better, but she sliced
open her finger in the process. Images of tetanus dancing in his head, they
came to a truce: Hector would let Citra trim his hair, but only after he got
them a pair of scissors. The youth talked with Beras's merchant about it, and
the man managed to get ahold of a pair. Which he then charged Hector an entire
boar for, supply and demand at it's best.
"I suppose not." She had finished brushing out the tangles a while ago, but
just enjoyed spending time like this; relaxing in the sun, with Hector. Today
was one of the rare days, when they had no where to be, and nothing to do.
Citra grabbed the scissors, and got to work shearing Hector's hair. He had
fallen quiet again, and long silences were most unusual for him.
"What does that mean? Abang?" Ah, there it was.
Citra thought a moment, "Big brother, I guess would be the most accurate
translation."
"I didn't have any siblings, back in Veracruz," he professed. Something she
already knew from his previous stories . "Do you really think of me as a
brother?"
Citra felt happy. When she first concluded that, she had been shocked. She had
not felt so carefree in a long time, not since before her mother had taken ill.
When Hector had found her, she had been little better than a frightened animal.
In those bleak days, two things had occupied her mind, food and getting as far
away from her old home as possible.
She had walked and walked, until, finally, she had reached the ocean, the far
edge of the island. It still had not been far enough, she was still too close.
The young girl did not know where she had planned to go from there, but she
never had to find out. Citra had come to Beras for food. On her journey thus
far, she had convinced a few charitable souls to part with some rice or bread,
but mostly, she had stolen from the open-air markets Rook favored. Right as the
child had reached Beras, the sky seemed to open up and rain came pouring down
in heavy sheets. Citra had grown up on the Rook Islands, and was used to the
sudden monsoons; they were no less unwelcome.
The scampering noise of another person had brought her attention to a boy,
maybe a year or two older, who was rushing to hide under the same overhanging
roof as her. She had lashed out, more out of suprise and fear than anger. It
was never a good thing, when a stranger tried to get too close so quickly. She
had popped Hector good, right on his nose, drawing blood.
Citra did not know it then, but he would become her savior and champion. He had
saved her, from more than just hunger. Hector had not been any better off than
her, in the beginning. Worse, maybe. He had no working knowledge of the
islands, or how it's people lived. Nevertheless, he had taken to looking out
for her. He had learned to hunt for food. He had found their shed, and braved a
deal with Ajeng, even if the woman had never itimidated Citra like she had the
boy. More than that, he had given the girl a sense of belonging. After her aunt
and uncle had kicked Citra out, she had nowhere to go, and no place to be. No
one was expecting her, or cared what happend to her.
Hector did, though. He made sure the girl had something to eat every morning
before leaving Beras. He made sure she stayed safe throughout the day. He saw
to it she was comfortable at night and had a warm dinner in her belly. He
looked after her when she got sick. She blushed a little at the last thought,
of waking up with him asleep at her side. He did his best, everyday, to make
sure she was happy. And she was.
He was her family now, and he ment the world to her.
The girl had not had a brother or sister either, so she did not have a real
comparison, but, "Your the closest thing to family I have now. I hope you do
not mind."
"No," he smiled, and started to lean his head back, before she hiss and smacked
him for interrupting her work.
"Hey!" he yelped.
"Do not move," she warned, remorseless.
"Whatever you say, Princesita."
-------------------------------
An hour later found them, rearanged, still on the rock. Hector now had the
brush, and was attempting to braid Citra's hair. The girl was more than capable
of doing it herself, she did each morning in fact, but this was his way of
thanking her for her help. The boy wasn't as good at it as she was, his braids
weren't as tight or orderly, one strand tended to be wider than the other two,
but he was way beter than when he first attempted it, if he did say so himself.
Both looked up as raised voices came drifting from the direction of Beras Town.
Any meaning was lost to the breeze, but the speakers sounded upset. The kids
exchanged a look, Hector made quick work of tying off his braid, and the pair
hastened their way back along the accustomed path, into town.
"What do you mean they just took it?!" It was Andhika, the owner of Beras's
rice paddies. He was standing in the middle of the town's little market,
yelling at two of his workers. A small audience had gathered to watch the
spectacle. A crowd the two scurried to join.
"They said that it was requisitioned," the worker on the right explained. The
man was fidgeting uder all the scutiny.
"By who?!" the farmer roared back.
"The president. By Noah Ward," left relayed, only slightly more calm.
"Unbelievable, unbelievable," Andhika always did have a fiery temper. "If Ward
thinks he can just come, and take MY product, just because he is too CHEAP to
feed his own men! Oh!" the man was beside himself. Furiously pacing back and
forth, he stewed in his thoughts.
The gathered group started to murmer amongst themselves, and Hector made his
way over to the two workers.
"Excuse me, but what happend?" he was pretty sure he had a good idea, but the
boy wanted to make sure he was correct.
The farmhand looked too harried to be questioning why a child would need to
know. "We were threshing the rice, when they came. We just finished a harvest
earlier this week, so there is plenty of work that needs doing. The police
showed up, and, just, started loading up bags of the grain, into their truck.
When Rajasa tried to stop them, they claimed that the president was
appropriating them."
The other worke, who had been nodded along with the story, added, "Rajasa knew
Andhika would be angery, so he said he was going to go get him, and one of the
police struck him! Bethari was looking after him and the other officers were
still loading up the rice, when we managed to sneak away."
The men were, obviously, upset, and for good reason. Most of Beras depended on
the rice paddies, for both food and income. If Andhika had no rice to sell, he
had no money; if he had no money, he couldn't pay his employees.
Hector didn't know the farmer too well himself. While he would often buy rice,
it was never directly from the man. What little the boy did know about him, was
all from the overheard conversations of his workers. Andhika wasn't nicest man,
he would snap at the slightest provocation, but he was honest, and hard
working. He could often be found out in his fields, working alongside his
laborers. Mid-forties, skin like leather, he reminded Hector of the vaqueros
from back home.
"That is it! I do not care if that man wants to dig to the center of the Earth,
but he does not get to come and take my things! That charlatan Ward's SHAM of a
title, does not give him any right to my property!" Andhika proclaimed, before
he went storming back towards his paddy fields.
Hector couldn't say what made him do it, maybe it was the memory of Baldy
forcing his way into Ajeng's house, to threaten the three of them in the middle
of the night, or maybe it was the scared looks the workers still wore now, but
the boy moved to follow after him.
Citra latched onto his arm, stopping the youth. "What are you doing?" she
hissed, alarmed.
"Stay here. Go find Ajeng," the boy urged, gently pushing the young girl back
the way they'd come.
She hesitated a moment, he could see her fear, then, nodding, she released his
arm. Hector watched her, until she disappeared from view behind a building,
before hurrying to follow the farmer.
The youth caught up to Andhika, just before he reached his property, and ducked
into some ferns near the road. All the time and practice, Hector'd spent trying
to remain unseen, made his skin itch at the thought of just charging up to this
group of men. He crouched down and shadowed the farmer from the thicker
foliage.
The police were still there. They had parked their truck close to the grain
storehouse, and two uniformed men were working together to load the bags into
the back. Already there was a substantial pile in the truck bed. Hector could
hear raised voices from around the other side of the building.
"Hey!" the farmer yelled. "What the hell do you think your doing?!"
The two men stopped, dropping the sack they currently held, and turned toward
the approaching figure. They wore identical wary looks, but did not move from
their spots.
Andhika came to a stop just in front of them, "You cannot just come here, and
take my rice!"
"Actually, we can," came from out of Hector's field of vision. All three turned
to face the concealed figure.
Growling in frustration, the youth weaved his way to a better position, careful
to not to alert anyone to his presence. He didn't know how the men would react,
and he didn't care to find out. It took time, he had to go deeper into the
vegetation to keep behind concealment, and the situation had advanced while
he'd been distracted.
It had been five months since Hector had last seen Baldy, and the bastardo
hadn't gotten any more pleasant in the interim. His favorite police officer
rounded out the last of la chota. From the boy's better vantage point, he could
see the man had been bullying another of the paddy workers into helping them
pilfer Andhika's produce.
"You think your coming up here and throwing a fit is going to make us stop, old
man?" Baldy responed to something unheard Andhika had said. It would seem the
man had a thing against the elderly, if his insults, to both Ajeng and Andhika
were anything to go by. Though Hector didn't know if he'd consider Andhika
elderly.
"Tell your 'president', that he has no right to my belongings!" the farmer
persisted. "You and your men need to get off of my property, right now!"
The older man resumed his advance towards the police officers, grabbing a large
metal rod off of a nearby box as he went. Hector's eyes widened. Surely Andhika
couldn't mean take on all three men.
Baldy sneered, then pulled a handgun from his holster, leveling it on the
farmer. Not even blinking, "It's time for you to be leaving now, anjing. "
Hector's heart came to a stop in his chest, then picked back up double-time.
For all their grandstanding, he had never actually seen any of la chota attack
one of the islanders. Stories of missing children aside.
Andhika came to a halt. He adjusted his grip on the pipe, shifted his weight
side to side, but did not retreat. What was he doing?! He needed to get out of
there, now!
Baldy, it would seem, did not appreciate his show of defiance. He fired into
the ground at Andhika's feet, causing the farmer, both of the other policemen,
and the child hidden in the bushes to jump.
"Come on, Cahyono, we have plenty already, let's just get out of here," one of
the officers advocated. Hector couldn't tell if it was the same one from
Ajeng's house, or not. He cetainly screamed NPC as much as the other man had,
and he appeared just as weak-kneed at the idea of confrontation.
"No!" Baldy, or Cahyono, or whatever, snarled, "I am fucking tired of these
bajingan-bajingan thinking they have any say in our affairs. They need to mind
their own goddamn business. It is spineless thinking like that, that got you
assigned to this stupid ass, backwater in the first place!" The last part was
adressed once more to Andhika, "Now you can make yourself fucking scarce, old
man, or I am going to blow the brains out the back of your fucking skull!"
The boy stared on, petrified. Baldy clearly hand only become more unhinged in
his absense. Hector wanted to believe that the policeman wouldn't actually
shoot, but he couldn't bring himself to. Not with the look he had in his eyes.
Darma might have been too much of a threat, but apparently forty-year-old men
were not. And Andhika did not look to be backing down.
Hector had to do something!
"Hey!" the boy shouted. He didn't know why; he'd panicked. He just knew he
couldn't stand by and watch, as Andhika got himself killed.
La chota all swiveled to find the source of the sudden noise. The boy hoped the
farmer would use the distration to get away, but Andhika had other plans. The
man charged Baldy, inciting a fight for the weapon, the farmer grappled with
the larger man trying to wrest the gun from the his hands. The two other police
officers watched on, in suprise, not unlike Hector.
The pistol discharged three times. One of the police officers, the one who had
spoken out, collapsed to the ground howling in pain, and clutching at his calf.
His silent companion rushed to his side and, after a moment's hesitation, began
applying preasure to his leg as well.
Off to the side, the fight had drawn to it's close. Andhika lay on the ground,
clutching his stomach, red seeping from between his fingers, and Baldy stood
over him, breathing hard, still holding the gun.
"You just could NOT leave well enough alone, could you, you stupid old man?"
Straitening up, Baldy leveled his gun at the man's chest, "Well, I hope it was
fucking worth it."
"No. No, no, no, wait!" Andhika tried to back away.
The bang rang out, echoing off of the cliff side.
"Cahyono! We need to get out of here!" the uninjured policman shouted.
His voice seemed to break Baldy out of whatever void his thoughts had wandered
to, as he stared down at the farmer's unmoving body.
"Shit!" he swore, before heading over to help move their downed man to the
truck.
Time seemed to speed up and slow down at irregular intervals, without
consulting with Hector at all. The two functional men seemed to take all the
time in the world, loading their comrade into the vehicle and leaving. They
left their heist unfinished, forgotten, like Hector's cry. Then time lept
forward, and Hector was standing over the body, without any memory of making
his down the hill side. There was no theatrics, no gasping breaths or last
words, just the lifeless form, eyes still open, staring at nothing and laying
in the growing pool of blood forming around it. The body had the same coppery,
viceral smell as the animals Hector hunted, during his time on Rook. The
thought made the boy feel hot all over.
He could feel some noise trying to claw it's way out of his throat, but he
didn't know what. Hector was floating, he felt like he wasn't really there at
all.
He glanced away and noticed the police had left the bag of rice they'd dropped,
just laying on the ground. They hadn't even bothered to pick up the sack right
next to the truck. It struck Hector as funny. And then he was laughing. He
laughed, and laughed. He laughed until he couldn't breathe and tears poured
from his eyes. He stood laughing over the dead body of his neighbor.
The boy felt a warm hand layed across the back of his neck, and suddenly it was
all too much. He rushed to the side, and threw up. The heaves wracked his whole
body, like his insides were trying to pour themselves out through his mouth.
When he thought of almost puking on Andhika's body, he heaved again.
The hand returned, this time rubbing small circles on his back. Hector rested,
his forarms on his knees, in a tripod position. His head was throbbing
something awful, and the tears just kept coming even though the laughing had
stopped. Hector felt like he had lost all control of his body. All the heat had
vanished, and he was frigid.
As Hector straitened up, swiping at his mouth and eyes, Darma wrapped an arm
around his shoulders, and pulled him close. Shivers continued to shake the
boy's whole body.
Chapter End Notes
     This is the-chapter-that-did-not-want-to-be. I fought and fought with
     it you guys, but I hope it turned out alright.
***** Chapter 7 *****
Chapter Notes
     I don't own Far Cry 3 or any of it's contents.
     Ah, at last we've reached our first time jump. Well the second, but I
     don't really count the first year. Anyway, the chapters that
     immediatly follow these gaps will probably try their best to
     summerize the skipped time. Enjoy
Hector lay sprawled out across an especially horizontal palm tree. He was
whistling a cheerful jingle to himself as he worked. The youth was carving
swirls and patterns into the shaft of his wooden spear. He couldn't recall
where he had heard the tune before, probably back in Veracruz.
He was quite proud of the engraving. Hector had spent months working on the
spear, whenever he had some free time. He had taken up spearfishing, after
Ajeng had gone on for days about how you couldn't get fresh fish in Beras, even
though the ocean was RIGHT THERE. The woman lacked any subtlety, if she wanted
fish, she just had to ask. Hector had attempted to fish, the way his papá had
tried so hard to teach him, but he lacked the propper equipment. He may have
been able to get ahold of some, his belief in Beras's merchant grew more and
more with each passing day, but he honestly was no more interested in sitting
around for hours on end now, than he had been then.
When he put forth his dilemma to Darma, another individual who had earned
Hector's complete faith, the man had suggested spearfishing. That sounded
exciting! Spears, water, excitement, what wasn't there to love? Darma's lack of
expertise apparently. His mentor had never attempted the sport before. The
hunter prefered his feet firmly on the ground, right where he had the most
control of his environment, and had no interest in picking it up. The man was
able to give Hector a general idea if the logistics, but the boy was, more or
less, on his own.
So Hector had taken it upon himself to become the self-made spearfishing expert
of Beras. A title, sadly, awarded the moment he dicided to even try.
Hector enjoyed both the swimming and the excuse to spend more time on the
beach, and Ajeng made a wonderful Ikan pepes.
"Raaaa!" came a falsetto roar from behind. Hector flailed and nearly ate sand,
in his suprise.
"Citra!" he admonished. His ruffled feathers did nothing to quell his sister's
laughter.
The girl had grown a lot over the past two years. She was almost as tall as
Hector now, and he couldn't stand it. Ajeng insisted that his growth spurt was
still coming, and soon he'd be working just as hard to keep himself in clothes
as he was for his sister, but the platitudes were starting to wear old.
He quietly went back to his work, ignoring the girl.
"Oh, come on, Abang. It was funny! You should have seen your face," she
soothed, as she fought her way up onto the high trunk. Which Hector did nothing
to help her with.
"Alright, alright, I am sorry," she tried, not looking contrite at all.
No response.
"Hector," his hermana drew his name out, shaking his leg.
He blew some shavings off of the spear.
"And Ajeng says I am moody," Citra sighed dramatically, crossing her arms. That
earned a glare.
"Look," she drove forward, "I made this for you!" She held out a leather thong
with sea shells and pieces of sea glass braided into it. Hector casually took
it from her hand, and studied the piece. He was actually quiet impressed with
the craftsmanship. He recognized the cord as a piece of a longer strand, Ajeng
had brought it home a few weeks back.
"Are you sure this is for me, and not Jaya?" he looked up slyly. He couldn't
resist giving her a hard time. He hoped she really hadn't intended to gift it
to the other boy, because Hector wasn't giving the necklace back.
"Yes," she huffed, moving to tie it around his neck.
Jaya had moved to Beras, a year or so ago, with his parents. He was eight,
making him younger than Hector, but older than Citra. His family had moved to
the small town, from the south island, to take over the rice opperation,
Andhika's death had left behind. Which was good. The fields had layed fallow,
and dried up. Some of the townspeople had moved away, and there weren't very
many to begin with. The arrival of Jaya's family had revitalized Beras.
That didn't make Hector dislike the boy any less.
Even when he first arrived, Jaya was a shy thing. Hector had been excited about
the idea of another boy his age living in town. Maybe they could be friends;
they could go swimming together, Hector could show the boy all his favorite
spots, and maybe he could even teach him how to hunt! When he actually met the
new boy though, be had been quiet and reserved, withdrawing whenever the
forceful youth got too near. Hector had been disappointed, but accepting. He
probably shouldn't have been running off to go swimming anyway. He was busy
working on the shed at the time, and there were sharks besides.
No, what had kindled the youths dislike, had been how Jaya followed Citra
around like a stray. He didn't know when it started, he just remembered the
first time he'd noticed. Hector was on his way back into Beras, from sending
the day scoping out this years batch of fawns with Darma, when he spotted the
two. They were "gathering" hibiscous, or so his sister had claimed, it looked
more like screaming and chasing eachother around to Hector.
He rushed over, they were making eniterly too much noise, he had to stop them!
A predator might have come to investigate, and Rook's dragons were nothing like
the colorful, singing and dancing ones Hector grew up with. It had nothing to
do with the fact that Jaya was running around screeching with his sister, but
wouldn't even talk to him. Really.
When he reached the pair of children, Jaya abruptly clammed up, like he always
did around Hector, murmering and stammering excuses that he needed to get back
home. Citra complained all the way back to town, about how he'd run off her
friend. The youth wasn't having any of that though, they could have gotten
hurt, and what kind of big brother would he have been then? He had to look out
for his little sister... and her friend too.
Nonetheless, everytime Hector came across Citra, when she was SUPPOSED to be
finding herbs for Ajeng, the boy would be right there with her. The girl
insisted her brother couldn't be upset, she had never returned from one of
their excursions empty handed, and the old woman never complained. Still,
whenever Hector went to retrieve his sister for the day, he got no small
satisfaction from watching Jaya squirm.
"There," she smiled at her handiwork.
He loved it.
"Thank you, Princesita," he grinned.
The girl beamed, then quickly stopped. "Yes well, do not get used to it. I had
to work twice as hard on my burn salve to convince Ajeng to part with the
cord." She continued as he ran his fingers along the shells, "why are you just
sitting up here anyway? Should you not be doing something useful, like catching
our dinner?"
"I already did," the boy dismissed her concern, indicating a screwpine basket
off to the side. He went back to carving a wave into the shaft, but continued
to listen as Citra detailed her woe-of-the-day. It was familiar, and always
managed to sooth the part of the boy that missed home most.
They sat together like that, as slowly the sun sank beneath the water. Which,
no matter how many Rakyat stories Ajeng told them, Hector would not take as
anything more than a figure of speach.
"We should get headed to the house," the boy commented, cutting his sister off
mid moan about the grip on her new knife.
The duo made their way past their shed. The shed had undergone some
construction in the past two years.
Hector, with the help of his favorite merchant, got ahold of some decently
preserved lumber and nails. He was almost certain there was a building,
somewhere, that mysteriously lost a wall in the middle of he night. He'd been
able to board up the entire front side of the shed, making the dilapidated
crates out front redundant. It looked odd, the new wood clashing with the
overall wear and tear of the rest, but it was privacy they had been sorely
lacking before. Citra whined that he should have boarded up the east wall as
well, and made a doorway, but the third wall already made him feel
claustrophobic, and he was half afraid he wouldn't wake up in the morning
without the sunlight streaming in.
He had also cobbeled together a pair of makeshift beds for the two of them.
Which the princesita didn't complain about. Both were piled high with pelts
Hector had collected.
Improvements or no, the shed was the shed, and Ajeng's was referred to as the
house.
Citra helped him carry food to the house. They brought meat, vegitables, and
fruit, Ajeng supplied herbs, seasoning, and know-how. Their dinners with the
bruja had become another balm for his homesickness.
They were almost inside when a scream split the air. It had sounded like it
came from just outside town. Citra looked back at Hector, unsettled.
"Go inside," he told her. She gave him a sour look, she used to be much better
at following instructions, before indignantly stalking into Ajeng's home.
The youth left his bundle on the porch, and, quietly, made his way towards the
edge of town. Just outside Hector came to a stop, crouched in the shadowy lee
of one of Beras's outskirting buildings. Nothing.
Ask anyone around Beras, they'll tell you the same thing. The town lost people
whenever the paddies had shut down, but the arrival of the new landowners had
townsfolk moving in. Beras was almost as big as it ever was, if not filled with
the same people. But Hector knew, Hector saw. It had started not long after
Andhika had been shot. The odd person, here or there, would just disappear.
They'd wish their friends well for the evening, and would never be heard from
again. At first it had just blended in with the mass exodus of everyone else,
but even now, with the town once more flourishing, a man one day, a boy a
couple months later, people were going missing.
Something caught Hector's gaze. When he moved closer he found a woman's scarf,
snagged in the spindly arms of a shrub, and tire tracks leading away from the
village. It wasn't just children being preyed upon anymore.
***** Chapter 8 *****
Chapter Notes
     I don't own Far Cry 3 or any of its contents
Hector was up near the top of one of hills that neighbored Beras Town. Darma
had brought him up there, to a kind of provisional firing range.
When his mentor had asked him how his skills, with the gun he had gifted
Hector, had come along, the boy had been forced to answer truthfully. He hadn't
even touched the thing, other than to take it apart for cleaning, since it'd
been given to him. He wasn't stupid, he wasn't going to let the gun rust, but
he did not have the money to keep feeding the weapon ammo either. So it had
sat, unused, at the bottom of their laundry basket.
The hunter had given the boy one of his special looks.The look that said: he's
disapointed, that he knows he tought you better, but he'll help you out,
because he still cares. Hector had mixed emotions about that look.
So, the next time the two males had made the trip down to Badtown, the boy
never made the journey alone, he had picked up a box of 10mm ammo.
They'd been up there several times now, and the boy felt like he was starting
to get the hang of it. The range consisted of four burlap sacks stuffed with
who knows what, and three unlucky trees. When Hector had asked why have the
range all the way up on the hill, Darma had launched into his first lesson.
Collateral damage.
The gun his mentor had given to him was powerful, not in some mystical,
magical, voodoo way, but in a if-you-shoot-something-with-this-it-very-well-
might-come-out-the-other-side-and-hurt-someone-else kind of way. It also ment
that, should Hector ever run into the Undying Bear, he might be able to buy
himself enough time to get away, if he emptied enough rounds into it. It was a
fine line to tread; the weapon needed to be useful as protection around the
town, and out in the jungle.
The recoil had taken some getting used to. It wasn't like anything else Hector
had even done, certainly his bow didn't have a kickback. The noise, that was
new too. His ears didn't seem to stop ringing for hours after his first day
actually practicing with the gun. Needless to say, it wasn't the boy's favorite
weapon, he doubted he would ever use it for anything other than self defense,
but the memory of what happend to Andhika made him swallow any of his
complaints. He would never let himself, or Citra, find themselves in such a
position. The disappearances also weighed heavy in the youth's mind.
The drills, Hector's mentor had him running today, had him centered in the
middle of his targets. Darma would call out one, from the collection of curious
names they had each been given, and Hector would move to shoot his assigned
target. The man never called out the same target in a row, proventing Hector
from adjusting his aim baised on his previous shot. They had used a similar
practice when the hunter had tought the boy to use a bow. Of course, shooting
arrows had never made his wallet weep like bullets did.
It worked though, Hector felt far and away more confident with the firearm,
than when he first started.
After his last drill, and thoroughly scaring away any creature in a half mile
radius, Hector went to sit next to Darma.
"Are all Rakyat so smart?" the nine-year-old inquired.
Darma gave him an incredulous look, and, wow, yeah, that came out way more
flatterning than he intended, but he ment it. The man had proven himself
proficient in a number of things, that, sure, were mostly related, but still
impressed the boy. Ajeng, too, was knowledgeable in a wide range of herbal
skills, and had, at one point, alledgedly, worked with pottery too. Citra was
young, but, even when he'd met her, she had displayed a striking amount of
know-how.
"It's just, back in Veracruz, it seems like, people struggled to find just one
thing they were good at, or liked to do, but here on Rook, everyone seems to be
good at everything," the boy expanded. It made Hector feel inadequate, and he
hated it. He was never not good enough back home.
"Much of what I know, was passed down to me by my father," the man disclosed.
He seemed to decide against commenting on Hector's out of character compliment.
He could probably see the youth's unease.
"Even how to use a gun?" the boy morosely wondered aloud.
"No. That was something I learned later," there was humor in his voice that
Hector wasn't privy too.
"But everything else," the boy concluded.
"About hunting anyway. Why?"
The youth shrugged, he might dislike the feeling of inadequacy, but wild horses
wouldn't tear the admission from his lips.
"Well, do not feel too bad for anyone from your home town." Darma's devious
look left little doubt the man saw right through him, just like always. It was
a look Hector obstinately ignored. "What is the saying? Nessecity is the mother
of invention. Much of what I know, I learned because, without it, I would not
still be here. My father tought me much, but more still I have learned later in
life, about the islands, about others, and about myself in particular. As long
as you are alive, you will continue to aquire new knowledge and skills. For
this is growth, without growth a person stagnates, and stagnation is a death
all its own."
Hector had given up on his vexation, to better cosider his mentor words. The
statement didn't require a responce, nor did Darma ever expect one. The words
were a comfort, the hunter was many years older than him, Ajeng older still. He
had plenty of time to learn and grow, and he planned to do a lot more growing
before he was done.
-----------------------------
The youth was making his way back down the road, towards Beras Town.
It had gotten dark while he was still out hunting. Usually he wouldn't be out
this late, but he had got off to a slow start, after putting in time practicing
at his improvised range that morning. He was returning empty handed, but his
survival instincts weren't going to let him wander about after dark with the
tigers.
The paddies were starting to come into view, when Hector noticed one of la
chota's vehicles parked along the road.
The pendejos had started to spend more and more time around Beras, over the
last couple of years. The boy didn't fancy that it was the disappearances
causing the police activity so much as the other way around.
The youth carefully scanned the area for movement. If they were watching the
road, they'd probably already spotted him. Hector was not interested in finding
out, first hand, where all those people kept getting dragged off to.
There! Movement a small ways further down the road and into the trees.
Hector made himself at home, settling into the shadows like another might their
favorite bath robe, amongst the jungle foliage. He steadily made his way over,
to see what trouble they were causing now.
Two of the policemen stood, staring up into one of the trees. The boy
recognized neither.
"Help!" came a fearful bleat. It was quiet, relatively, certainly no one in
Beras was going to hear.
It would seem la chota had treed their prey. The image would be almost comical,
if puddles of blood and unseeing eyes didn't flash across his mind at the
sight.
"Come down from there," one of them crooned, "were not gonna hurt ya."
And suddenly Hector was angery. These bastardos come to his village, kill its
people, and just expect the rest of the populace to roll over? Hector didn't
know who was up in that tree, but he'd be damned he was going to let these
cabròns take them away too.
He needed a plan. Confronting them wasn't going to work. The boy might be
deadly, but there wasn't much intemidating about a four-foot-three child, and
the thought of taking a life made his skin crawl. He did not want to be like
these monsters.
The gun was a solid, cold weight at Hector's back.
"Help," came another, softer sob.
The men cajoled the voice again.
No. The boy was not going to allow this, not now that he was able to stop it.
He carefully drew the gun from where it was tucked into his waistband. Not the
safest place to carry it, but few people made Delta Elite holsters for
children, if you'd believe it. The heft of the firearm made the butterflies in
the boy's stomache go crazy. He couldn't decide if he was excited to put his
practice to use, or if he was going to be sick. Hector just knew he had to stop
these men.
Hector took careful aim at the ground near the officers, took a deep steading
breath, and fired.
The boy was suprised to find it pleased a small part of him, to watch the
uniformes jump and scramble about in fright. The voice up in the tree screamed,
the loudest noise it had made yet.
"Jesus!"
"What the fuck?!"
The officers were rallying back together, though they didn't seem to know where
the bullet had come from, both had been focus solely on their hapless victim.
One of them reached to grab his own gun. Hector took aim once more, again
cautious not to hit anyone, and fired into a tree, within their reach.
Splinters went flying.
"Shit!" one swore before tearing off towards the road. And again that same
small part purred in pleasure, let the bastardos feel the fear they liked to so
imspire in the people of Beras.
"David!" his partner, the pandejo who'd been talking to the treed villager,
called after him. The man cast one last quick glance in Hector's direction. The
hair on the boy's arms stood up, he swore the man looked right at him. Then the
officer, too, was running towards the road.
The boy wasn't a fool, he followed the men, to make sure they really left. The
first to run was already in the truck by the time the second arrived.
As they sped off, the adrinaline seemed to catch up with Hector. He was shaking
all over, he was almost afraid to tuck his gun back away, incase he shot
himself.
A huge smile stretched its way across his face. Hah! He'd done it! He ran the
pandejos out of Beras. Maybe they would think twice before coming back next
time!
Hector went back to the tree, to see if he could help whoever la chota had
managed to chase up into it.
Quiet crys were still coming from its boughs upon Hector's return. The boy
glanced up, trying to catch a glimps of the quarry. It was dark, and the
foliage did its part in blocking his veiw, but the youth thought he recognized
the silhouetted form.
"Jaya?" the boy asked, disbelieving.
A loud sniff.
The youth wanted to roll his eyes, of course. He should have reconized that
sniveling. He immediatly winced. He probably would have been in a panic too, if
he'd been cornered by those bastardos.
"Jaya?" he tried again. Kinder this time.
"H-Hecor?" the boy gasped, choking on a sob.
"Yeah," he tried to sooth, "it's me. Why don't you come down from there?"
A shuddering laugh. "I... I-I don't... think I know h-h-how," the younger boy
admitted.
"Then how did you get up there?" the youth questioned, exasperation mounting.
"I-I don't know!" he wailed. The young boy was well on his way to working
himself back up.
What? Fantastic. Hector heaved a sigh, nessecity the mother of invention
indeed.
"Here... let me just..." and now Hector was starting to sound as bad as the
other boy. That sparked his anger.
Hector crawled his way up into the tree. Luckily, Jaya hadn't made his way up
all that high.
The boy only sat one branch above Hector now. He clutched at the tree trunk
with his knees pulled to his chest, his face burried in one of his arms.
Jaya had been born here on Rook, but both of his parents had moved to the
islands, following the big minning boom. Both of Jaya's parents originally came
from Germany.They claimed to have come to the islands to make their fortune,
but fell in love with the land itself. The end result was Jaya, a boy with a
local name, who could speak Bahasa as well as any native, but who managed to
look even more foriegn than Hector.
Jaya was pale, the kind of pale that came from generations of his ancestors
living in a cooler climate, that all the years in the world living on an island
won't change. He had dark brown hair offset by pale blue eyes, and a long
narrow nose. Overall he wasn't much what Hector was used to back in Veracruz
either.
Hector gently reached out, laying a hand on the boys leg, he didn't want him to
freak out and fall from the tree. The boy shuddered, but looked down at him.
"We need to get down from here," Hector explained slowly. "Do you think you can
follow what I do?"
The boy stared at him with watery eyes. Looking for what Hector didn't know,
but after a moment he nodded.
That was a relief. Hector's next plan had mostly just involved shoving the boy
out of the tree, and he didn't want to have to explain to Citra why her friend
had a broken leg.
"Good, that's good," the boy encouraged.
And they did, actually manage, to get safely down the tree, the younger boy
following the elder's steps exactly. On the last hop down, the longest by far,
it had taken a bit of coaxing, but after another searching look from the boy,
and Hector's reasurance he would catch him, Jaya made the last jump.
"There, that wasn't so bad," the statement was more to himself than Jaya, but
the younger boy looked up with a smile anyway. "Do you think you can make your
way home from here?"
The tears had all dried up by now, but the boy instantly looked ready to cry
again, at the thought of walking home alone.
"No, no, no, no, none of that!" Hector hurried to stop him. "I'll walk you
home. Yeah, no need to panic."
The adrinaline was gone, his feet were sore, and he wasn't feeling nearly so
good about his victory tonight as he had while riding his body's natural
chemical high, and now it looked like he was going to have to walk the brat to
his house, instead of going strait home to his bed. Hector hadn't felt so tired
in a long while.
They were both quite for walk back to Beras. Hector tired and slightly
irritable, Jaya kept looking like he wanted to say something, but always
stopped himself before he did. Good.
He kept glancing over at Hector, with that same look as in the tree.
Just before making it to the building, Jaya seemed to find his nerve. "T-thank
you, H-Hector," he murmed to his feet.
He earned the youth's grudged admiration, for finally speaking up, and a wry
smile.
"Sure. Your welcome. Let's not make a habit of it though."
The younger boy looked up with wide eyes, and nodded vigorously.
"Jaya!" the cry came from the now open door of the young boy's home. His mother
stood in the door way, backlit with tears running down her face. The boy went
running over to hug his mom, he was crying. Again.
Yep, Hector wanted exactly nothing to do with this. He quickly made his exit,
into the dark, before he got dragged in.
As he settled into his bed for the night, he felt fabric slap across his back.
He arched a brow at his sister, who had swung her blanket at him. She was
staring back at him expectantly from her own bed. He answered her silent demand
with a shrug. No need to worry her, Jaya was going to be fine.
***** Chapter 9 *****
Chapter Notes
     I don't own Far Cry 3 or any of its contents.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
They had been treking inland for a while now. The trees and underbrush had
grown steadily thicker, a reflection of how deep into the jungle the pair had
come; the young girl kept a watchful eye out for snakes and other creatures
that may be lurking in any of the heavy foliage. Citra usually would not
venture this far away from Beras, but Ajeng had exhausted her supply of painted
nettle.
The young apprentice did not know much about the herb, beyond that her teacher
used it for her tea. Her elder held that she would train Citra in its use, just
as soon as the girl finished perfecting her aloe salve, but Citra got the
distinct impression that Ajeng was putting it off, and the girl did not know
why. The woman was usually just as excited to pass on her knowledge as Citra
was to learn. The woman seemed ambivalent in this case.
The girl was brought out of her thoughts by conspicuous noises of rustling
fronds and snapping twigs. Jaya came stumbling out of the ferns directly behind
her, shaking leaves free from his hair. The boy moved through the jungle with
about as much poise as a blind buffalo with a lame leg. Smirking, Citra gently
pucked a leaf he had missed from the boy's head.
"You are a mess," she chided. For all that Jaya was older than her, Citra spent
an awful lot of time looking after the other child. She did not mind so much,
it was nice, not being always being the dependent one. He was much less mature
than her brother, or even Citra herself. The result of gowing up with someone
else in charge of the tough choices, with parents to look after you? The
thought dampened the girl's mood. It could be, she was the bizarre one of the
two.
"Terima Kasih," he smiled up at her. Jaya was always good-natured and kind,
even out in the middle of nowhere, covered in vegitation and humidity.
"Sama-sama," she replied, his smile infectious.
It was nice to speak in her own tongue. Most of Rook spoke english to some
extent. Too many foriegners had come and gone, from the islands, to have not
have left lasting mark, but Bahasa was still the language she grew up with. The
langauge the girl listened to her mother tell her stories in. It was the sound
she identified with home.
She had tried teaching Hector her native language. While he was a quick
learner, her brother had picked up the wording and syntax with remarkable
aplomb, if she thought his accent was silly in English, it only sounded all the
more ridiculous in Bahasa. She still taught him new words, from time to time,
but they conversed in English for the majority.
Jaya spoke Bahasa as comfortably as Citra, and was plenty willing to forego
English all together, when it was just the two of them. The boy was able to
give her that small piece of her home back, and that ment a great deal to her.
When Jaya had first arrived in Beras, Citra had begrudged the boy. Hector had
talked about nothing, for days beforehand, but how much fun the two boys were
going to have playing together. Her brother spent much of his time with Darma
hunting, practicing, or just going off into the jungle. Ajeng said that it was
a good thing, that he needed "boy time"; being around a strong male presense
was good for him. Whatever that ment.
What it ment to the girl was that he never spent much time with her. Two days
ago, he had not even arrived home in time for dinner. She should not complain,
the things Hector was off doing went a long way towards feeding them, and
buying other amenities. This new kid, however, was just going to be taking up
what little time Citra did have with Hector. Why could her brother not go
swimming with her, or show HER his favorite place to fish?
When the pair had met Jaya for the first time, though, the younger boy had
shied away from Hector, withdrawing from his exubrance. Citra had been
relieved. While she could not understand how anyone could not love him like she
did, the girl was too happy, knowing Jaya would never be competion for Abang's
attention, to care.
Citra felt bad about resenting Jaya, he had turned out to be a great friend to
her. Proven now, by his willingness to follow the girl out into the midle of
the wilderness.
"What are we looking for again?" her tag along asked in Bahasa.
"Painted nettle, or coleus," the apprentice gave both of the herb's names.
Jaya's expression showed no signs of recognition.
"It looks like... well," Citra did not know how to explain it. She had never
actually seen the plant, just the leaves, but, "It is redish with... green."
Not her best description ever, but the only one she could offer. Ajeng claimed
that the plant grew near their current location. The only reason they had
fought their way out this far. The girl just hoped she ment down below, and the
pair was not going to have to find a way to climb up on top of the sheer bluff
they were edging along.
Jaya seemed to take the portrayal to heart, and started to look for such a
plant. Citra was grateful to the boy. Had their rolls been reversed, the girl
knew she would have demanded a better description, before she waisted her time.
Whatever her older brother might say, Jaya really was a big help finding all
the flora Ajeng sent them after. So what if sometimes they played tag on the
way.
They had been at their hunt for a few minutes before: "Citra?" Jaya sounded
curious, but not particularly excited. Not a declaration of discovery, then.
Her hopes, for a quick return home, rose and fell in rapid succession.
"Yes?" the girl looked up, across at her friend. They had made steady progress,
combing their way along the lower cliff face.
"How long have you known Hector?" the boy asked self-conciously, refusing to
make eye contact.
Odd. It was like the boy to acted timid around her brother, but never when it
was just the two of them.
"I guess, about three years now," she answered. "Why?"
"It's just, he's your brother and all, but you're not really related right?"
The statement aggravated Citra, "He is still my brother, blood or no." Who
would question their bond?
Jaya seemed to realize his offense, and was quick to appease the firey girl,
"That's not what I ment! I know you and Hector are close! I just was
wondering... you know... how long it took for the two of you to become so
special... to eachother."
Now she was confused. Usually, Abang was a topic the boy avoided. The young
girl was not quite sure how to react to Jaya's sudden interest. What had
happened to cause the change in her friend's attitude?
A dance of color, striking amidst a sea of emerald green, caught Citra's
attention from the corner of her eye. She whirled to face it.
"Ha ha! I found it!" the young alprentice crowed.
There grew the painted nettle plant, at about two feet tall. It was a rather
thick patch, more than plenty for Ajeng's tea.
The boy hurried over to see Citra's discovery for himself. The plant was indeed
covered in the sizeable leaves Citra had described. He was more inclined to
call them purple, than red, however.
"So, what does it do?" Jaya prompted. Citra usually took the time to lecture
him on what all each of their finds were used for. That she would wait until
they found their objective was out of character. The pair's journey had been
markedly quiet.
Citra visibly deflated at his question.
"I do not... really... know," the girl admitted, each of the words sounded
forcibly pulled from of her. She stared down at the plant, as if she peered
long and hard enough the shrub might reveal its secrets to her. "Ajeng makes
tea with it," she added as an after thought.
"Maybe it just tastes good?" he encouraged. Certainly, not every herb and bush
on the islands would have some undisclosed property.
Citra's brow furrowed further, "No. This is not what she would normaly use when
she makes her tea; I have only seen her use it a handful of times. Ajeng only
used painted nettle when she was stressed out."
"A relaxant then?" Jaya tried.
An ambiguous shrug. She could not say for sure.
And the older woman did not seem to be interested in telling the girl anytime
soon. Citra bit at her lower lip. Of course, the girl could find her own
answers here and now.
She did not want to go agaist her teacher's wishes, Citra respected Ajeng a
great deal. She had taught the girl so much about medicine and the islands
flora, when she easly could have just accepted the girl's payments of herbs and
walked away. Less hassle for everyone involved that way, but she had taken
Citra under her wing and gave her something no one else had offered: security
for the future. No matter what happend now, Citra had knowledge and skills she
could fall back on. Even if the worst should come to pass, should something
happend to her big brother, Citra knew she could take care of herself. She
hated to think like that, but life had taught her the hard way just how figile
happiness was. It felt disrespectful, of all Ajeng had done, to disobey her.
But, the woman had not told her to NOT try the herb, just that she would teach
her about it later, so technically she was not going against her.
Citra glanced over at Jaya, who had been silently watching her internal
struggle, "I suppose there is a way we could find out."
"What do you mean?" Jaya asked, mild-mannered as ever.
The girl snatched up a leaf of the painted nettle. "If I start to act strange,
go find Ajeng," she solemly told her companion.
"Wait, what?! Are you sure that's safe?!" he interjected, taken aback. This
seemed like a horrible idea. It would kill him if anything happend to Citra;
she was his best friend.
"There is nothing for it. If she will not show me, I must learn for myself,"
just saying the words helped steel her conviction.
The young boy offered no further objection, though he looked about ready to
throw himself on top of her, just to put a stop the whole situation. He
fidgeted with his hands and shifted his weight from foot to foot, concern
pulling his face into a grimace. In the end, he was too soft. Jaya may not want
her to injest the plant, but he would do no more than protest the idea.
"It will be alright," Citra consoled him, trying to soothe his fears. "If
anything goes wrong, you are here to look out for me right?"
Her reasurance fell on deaf ears.
Nothing for it, she pushed forward with her plan. The first thing she noticed
was the taste: bitter, with an overwhelming vegitation taste her brother might
have described as lawn clippings. The fibers seem to catch in-between her
teeth, as she ground it up. The texture was velvet and ridges. Overall, it was
a lot like chewing on a leaf.
Citra did not feel any different. Not light headed, no tingling, no slowing
heart rate, not even particularly calm. Maybe it had to do with the method. The
leaf needed to be strained with water to get the effects? Dried before use,
perhaps?
It started out as a tingle at the base of her skull, an itch fingers could not
reach. A nuisance, nothing more. After she noticed it, however, the feeling
seemed to grow and expand under her attention, spreading into the far reaches
of her mind. It made her irritable, like she needed to be moving, the feeling
formed into an all-consuming compulsion. Something was wrong, and she needed to
find Hector. The pair needed to get back to Beras, and now!
"We have to go!" the girl turned on her heel, and started back into the trees.
The physical action did nothing to allay her apprehinsion.
"Citra! Wait! What's wrong? Are you feeling sick?" the boy rushed to catch up
with her.
"We need to get home, quick!" She took off at a run.
Something terrible was coming.
Chapter End Notes
     Any italicized English is implied to be in another langauge.
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