Anna stood silently, her gaze fixed on the clearing where Jack's body now lay. The air felt heavy, thick with tension and silence. The tribe members moved quietly, almost reverently, as they carried him toward the jungle, their steps deliberate and calm, leaving only faint footprints behind.
I felt no relief, no triumph—just a cold, steady understanding. He had made his choices. Every cruelty, every act of selfishness, every moment he had tried to dominate or hurt had led him here. Kehnu's hands rested lightly on my shoulders, grounding me, a silent confirmation that I was safe.
"Jack was bad," I murmured, almost to myself, watching the tribe disappear into the trees with his body.
"Yes," Kehnu said, his voice firm but calm. "Jack was bad."
The wind rustled through the huts and the trees beyond, carrying a sense of finality. Life in the village returned slowly to its rhythm: the children's laughter, the hum of conversation, the crackle of the fires. Nothing would undo what had happened, but the tribe's calm resolution reminded me that survival often demanded harsh lessons.
I looked at my daughter, who clung to me, her eyes wide but trusting. For her, the world remained a place where she could play, learn, and grow—even after witnessing darkness. And for me, I felt a fragile, cautious peace settling in, a quiet acknowledgment that some dangers, some monsters, are only kept at bay by the choices of those who are strong, patient, and just.
Kehnu guided me back toward our hut, and I exhaled deeply, letting the tension of the past hours leave my body. Jack's chapter was over. Our lives, and the lives of the tribe, could continue.
The next morning, I walked toward the pole where Jack's companions were tied.
They did not shout. They did not struggle. They sat quietly, heads lowered, their faces hollow with fear and exhaustion.
I stopped a few steps away.
"If you had a chance to start again," I asked slowly, choosing words I hoped they would understand, "would you?"
They looked at each other. Then both nodded.
"We followed Jack," one of them said hoarsely. "We just followed."
I didn't fully believe them. People always said that after the damage was done. Still… killing them now would be something else. Something ugly. Something I did not want to carry.
I turned to Kehnu and the others standing nearby. I didn't know what to do. I truly didn't.
Then the elder woman stepped forward. She took my hand gently, her skin warm and steady.
"Come," she said.
She led me to her hut.
Inside, the air smelled of dried leaves and smoke. Palm-bark scrolls lined the walls. She lifted one and unrolled it carefully, then another. The drawings were simple, crude—but clear.
I saw humans fighting, bodies clashing inside drawn circles.
I saw blood, broken forms, figures falling.
Then I saw another image: people sitting together, sharing food, hands extended, a village at peace.
She looked at me, her old eyes sharp and knowing.
She understood my struggle. And I understood hers.
This was how they decided.
Those who came in peace were watched. Tested. Given time.
Those who brought violence were given the circle.
I closed my eyes briefly.
The tribe had given me and Kate a chance when we arrived frightened and alone. These two men would be given the same—but only if they proved they deserved it.
If they stayed calm.
If they worked.
If they showed restraint.
If they failed… the circle of life and death awaited them.
I opened my eyes and nodded slowly.
The elder woman squeezed my hand once, then released it.
The decision was made.
I walked toward the two men, still bound together, their shoulders slumped.
"Your names?" I asked.
They looked up, startled, then at each other.
"Mike," one said.
"Ken," the other followed quickly.
I nodded. "Fine. Mike and Ken. The tribe will take you in if you cooperate, work with them, and show no aggression. You are calm now, so you are given a chance. But if you mess this up…" I paused, letting the silence speak. "The same will happen as with Jack. This tribe wants peace."
They swallowed. Both nodded.
Kehnu had been listening the whole time. When I turned and nodded to him, he understood. The villagers watched closely as Kehnu stepped forward and cut the bindings.
"Tell them," Kehnu said.
I translated as best I could. "You work now. With them."
Mike and Ken nodded again, quickly this time, and followed Kehnu without protest.
I let out a long breath I hadn't realized I was holding.
Relief washed over me—but it wasn't clean. It was tangled with unease. If they cooperated, they would live. If they truly changed, they might even belong. But a quiet question stayed lodged in my chest.
Were they safe for the tribe?
Or were they only waiting?
I watched them disappear between the huts, surrounded by villagers, and felt that strange, hollow tension settle in again—the kind that comes not from danger passed, but from danger postponed.
I sat in front of our hut, scratching at the dirt with a stick, feeling the nervous weight coil in my stomach. The villagers moved around with quiet efficiency, tending fires, carrying pottery, and sorting food. Everything seemed orderly, almost serene—but I couldn't shake the tension that lingered in the air.
Kate's laughter drifted to me from where she played with the village children, chasing each other and sharing small treasures they found. Her joy was a sharp contrast to my thoughts, and for a moment, I let myself watch her, smiling faintly despite the worry gnawing at me.
I ran over the last few days in my mind—the chaos with Jack, the strange calm that followed, the uneasy truce with Mike and Ken. Had I done the right thing? Could these men truly change, or were we simply delaying a disaster?
The sun warmed my back, the wind shifted through the leaves, and life continued around me. Yet even as I breathed in the smells of fire, cooking, and wet earth, I remained deep in thought, caught between relief and a cautious, simmering unease.