Sloshing, the river watched as it unfolded.
"Your eyes, they are of killers," Awan said, pushing himself backward.
"I'm not a killer," Malik responded, offering his hands to him.
"Liar," Awan said as his entire upper body shook.
His voice formed into a symphony that willingly entered Malik's eardrums. It felt like a command, despite being a statement. However, he fought that sense of harmony within it.
Malik stepped back. "I'm telling you. I've never killed. I'd never do such a terrible act."
Awan laughed nervously. "Terrible? No, you've got it all wrong. Killers are necessary out here. A storm kills, and cleans."
Malik tilted his head. "I'm still confused. What is this storm you speak of?"
"It's not what it is, but a matter of who. And you, of all people, ask who it is?" Awan said.
A cold breeze reminiscent of the ship overwhelmed them. The rustling leaves echoed in the whispers of each gust.
"That's not an answer," Malik commented.
"Oh, Storm, but you asked as if you brought the darkness with you! We live on this rock because we hide from the shadow."
Malik stepped closer to him. He got an idea of what he was insinuating. His expression looked cold, and something began to rattle in his pocket—something dark.
"Look me in my eyes and tell me I'm the Storm. One passed by and nearly took everything from me, so shouldn't I take everything from you?" Malik asked.
. . .
A moment of silence.
It felt like a darkness hovered above them. The vines with amber spots from afar were astonished.
Awan cackled. "A-alright! Ya got me! I was just playing with you, man. Storms help the plants, and they look happy around you."
Malik gave a half-smile and picked up Awan from the ground.
From afar, Zayne and Kaya observed the entire interaction. They lightly whispered amongst one another after the others' altercation.
"I've never seen him so threatening before. Did he say something wrong?" Zayne asked.
"I—I'm not sure, but Malik would have some sort of reason for it," Kaya responded.
"You tend to defend him a lot," Zayne muttered.
Kaya murmured, "Yeah, because nobody else would . . ."
Later, the breeze calmed. It felt like it was getting warmer once more.
Malik walked alongside Awan; both acted like nothing had happened, as if they were friends from childhood. Kaya and Zayne stayed silent behind them, but wary.
"So where were we heading again?" Malik asked.
"Oh, we're heading back to my tribe. You guys didn't think I was just some random nomad, right?" Awan joked.
Within his thoughts, Malik lampooned him.
I can't find any valid reason as to why someone would form a tribe, especially in the middle of nowhere. Obviously, he's lived here for quite some time, but the person who first came here is what I'm concerned about.
What could've been so bad about the modern realms that you'd have to resort to sticks and stones as a means of survival? It's pretty ungrateful if you ask me.
On the outside, Malik kept his eyes open wide and maintained a careless walk. Something else shook in his pockets like water sloshing in a bottle, waiting to spill.
Awan walked with a spear like a cane, possibly imitating an elder. But with each step, he stabbed the spear into the ground, though the ground couldn't bleed.
Malik laughed. "Why do you stab the dirt? Did it steal something precious from you?"
Awan turned his head. "Aha. No, no. Apparently my people used to do this kind of tradition. It's good luck in case we get lost. The mark of the pierce and the sound it makes are kind of like a navigator. But I know every corner of this island regardless, so you're in joyful hands."
"Your people?" Malik asked.
From behind them, Kaya sniffed. She seemed to have an idea of what Awan would say next.
"Don't you know the people of Ishkana? The realm of harmony? We're made for this stuff," Awan gleamed.
Malik turned his head. "Wait, isn't that—"
From the corner of his eye, Kaya nodded.
Malik shrugged, then he took a good look at both Awan and Kaya.
Now that I look at it, they'd pass off as siblings. Actually, that'd be an insult to her. Maybe second or third cousins. Yeah, that sounds about right. Compared to her, his face isn't that harmonious.
Awan looked at Malik, and he was able to get a clear view of the tribesman: his large dark eyes, messy long hair, and long lips that stretched a mile when he smiled, nearly resembling a frog.
I get the feeling that he'd get along with Kamil.
Abruptly, "So, where'd you guys come from?" Awan said.
His eyes surveyed them. He stared a second too long at Kaya, who wore a distinct grey uniform.
Malik sighed. "We got lost in the storm, and we ended up here."
Awan nervously laughed. "Ha. I see. Yeah, that makes sense." He curled his hair with his fingers as he spoke.
He continued, straightening his posture. "You know, you guys really are one in a million. We've never had any visitors before. I myself wouldn't expect them to be this friendly. I'd normally go hunting out here in pure silence."
He emphasized one of those words enough for Malik to notice it. He only stored that word: friendly.
"Hunting what exactly?" Malik asked, curiously.
He blew a raspberry. "Pfft. You know, the big, scary animals. I'd often go day and night, being quiet just to find them."
Malik gave a half-smile. "Is that what the fruits were for? You and I both know we can't eat those things."
Awan stabbed his spear deeper into the dirt. "I really don't like how you read things like a book. Actually, scratch the name of 'The Storm' out of your head. How about 'The Observer'?"
He waved his hand in the air to give the name a sense of grandiose.
Malik tilted his head. "I don't see why you feel the need to give me a label."
Awan giggled. "Ah, I do it for fun. It gets boring being only in tune with nature sometimes. It's more entertaining to get in tune with someone, and giving them names is important. Besides—"
A buzzing within the warm breeze paused.
He stopped. His spear remained lodged in the ground as the rest halted. He pulled what seemed to be an oval-shaped, golden charm out of his collar, as he wore a very loose, quilted garment.
It was shaped like an eyeball, and if one were to walk past it, it'd feel like the pupil of it were following your every step.
"We call this 'The Observer,' so take that name as a sign of respect, man. It means that someone above's always watching and protecting," Awan said.
"If it means that much to you and your people, I don't feel like I've earned such a title," Malik shook his head.
He looked closer at Awan's garments. The quilt had a couple of squares in its design, and within each square of four corners, an eyeball-shaped symbol was within them.
"You guys really like eyes, don't you? I mean, there's that design all over your clothing."
. . .
Suddenly, the tribesman smirked.
Then he laughed cockily. "Yeah, it's because all the ladies back at home got their eyes on me, eh?"
Without a moment's notice, Malik, as well as the silent Zayne and Kaya, all cackled.
Zayne stepped forward, still laughing. "Ha! Bro, you made my whole week with that one."
Awan rolled his eyes. "You guys suck. Just wait and see when we get there. I'm practically drowning in them."
Malik's laughing slowed, and he fixed his gaze onto the tribesman.
"Could you repeat that last part?" he asked, giving a half-frown.
Freezing, the breeze went cold in the middle of the forest.
His piercing gaze blew a hurricane into the eyes of the tribesman. Even Kaya and Zayne stopped laughing. They averted their gaze from the two of them because they knew what he said.
The leaves rustled, as a buzzing stopped a second too late.
Noticing his demeanor, Awan shifted the conversation. "Oh, it was nothing. Aside from that, I stopped here for a reason."
Malik tilted his head farther than usual. "And that is?"
Awan gave a shivering smile. "If we go too far, we might end up in the wrong tribe. And we wouldn't want that, you know?"
Warming up, the air went back to what it used to be.
The Observer relaxed his shoulders, and his gaze returned to normal.
Noticing the de-escalation, Awan pointed his spear in all directions, as if it were a compass to guide him to his tribe.
"Are you lost?" Malik asked.
The tribesman continued his ritual. "No, no. Just finding the right key for the lock."
Then—
He laughed. "Ha! I can't believe—uhh, I mean, I've found it. Follow me."
Noticing his unsure laughter, Zayne asked, "Are you okay, Awan?"
"Yeah, yeah, man. I just get nervous doing that in front of others. It's like cooking for the first time, but your mom's watching, right?"
Zayne crossed his arms. "Is there something wrong with that, though?"
Awan sighed. "No. Follow me," he spoke flatly.
Time passed. A variety of different greenery of all sorts of colors showed their fangs. Some leaves looked sharp as blades, whilst others looked soft as pillows.
Malik closed his eyes after he swore not to, and he embraced the musky air that the others didn't seem to like.
Maybe me and Awan have one thing in common. We like the nature here. Although, I'm not really a fan of him stabbing the dirt. Is there not a better way to navigate through this place?
As Malik pondered, a voice erupted.
"We're here!" Awan cheered.
As Malik opened his eyes—
He fell to the ground as he saw it.
"What the f**k is that?" Malik shouted, nearly disgusted.
A large golden gate stood in front of him, but that's not what stunned him.
Above it, an array of eyeballs hung on display.
They all looked like they were in despair, despite having no tears.
All of them had distinct colors and patterns, and resembled a large necklace if one squinted their eyes.
Malik scanned through the various colors until he saw—
Grey?
"The Observer. Welcome to the tribe of prosperity, Marah," Awan spoke.
His smile stapled further, until it began to etch on his face.
. . .