3. Foraging

THREE

FORAGING

Naomi

"Never change. I like you just the way you are."

Naomi pet the glossy leaf of a low hanging frond on the breadfruit tree. It was one of her favorite trees because it was short enough she could harvest the ‘ ulu without needing a ladder. Of course, it was ridiculous to ask the tree not to grow any taller, but a girl could wish.

Wait. She paused. Should I be worried I'm talking to a tree?

Naomi nibbled her lip. If she was losing it, was that one of the signs? In her old life, she never worried about that. She talked to herself and nature all the time. It was normal, or so she thought.

That can't be the defining factor. Nana talked to nature all the time, too.

Her Hawaiian grandma had entire conversations with the plants around her house. And though she never witnessed the plants talking back, Nana did have the greenest thumb she knew. As Naomi pulled the folding knife out of her canvas bag and examined the breadfruit, a memory surfaced.

"You know the ‘ulu is mature when its skin smooths out and starts to darken, like that. It's ready for market." Nana pointed to one of the yellowish-green softball-sized fruits hanging overhead. "But this one," she gestured to a darker fruit with her wrinkled hand, "is ripe and ready to eat, so it won't last for sale."

Naomi nodded, and helped her grandma hold the long-handled pruner with a net attached. They cut down both, one for her grandma's stall at the farmer's market, and one for the dinner table.

"Have you heard the story about the ‘ulu?" Nana asked.

"Our ancestors brought the ‘ulu in their canoes," Naomi recited the story from memory while waving the ripe breadfruit she carried like it was a canoe bobbing in the ocean.

"I guess I've told you this a few times," Nana chuckled.

"Well, I didn't want to say anything, but only about a dozen times." Naomi gave her nan a broad, toothy grin as she giggled.

"Okay. Have I ever shown you how to make flour out of the ‘ulu?"

"No." Naomi shook her head.

"All right. That's what we'll do, and then we'll make some ‘ulu and banana pancakes."

"Those were some good pancakes," Naomi said with a grin, focusing on her task.

She selected one of the breadfruit and chopped it down. She had decided to make ‘ulu flour, since she was already working on a batch of taro flour. It was labor intensive, but having the flour meant she could make a wider variety of things .

"Aren't you juicy." Naomi grimaced at the white sap the ‘ulu exuded as she put it in her bag.

I'm going to need to wash this bag. She was going toward the creek to wash the fruit anyway.

She cut down three more and was putting the last breadfruit in her sack when a chaos of feathers descended.

"Bad pig, No-me, bad pig!" Bandit trilled, landing on the nearby branch of the breadfruit tree.

Naomi froze, gripping her knife tighter. Her head swiveled, looking for one of the island's wild boars. They really could be very dangerous. When she was a child, her uncle was gored in the leg by one. Between that and the mess they made of her camp on a few occasions, it was best to steer clear of the truculent beasts. Usually, she carried the machete when she hiked around the island, but not this time. Today she'd fled before grabbing it. However, it didn't look like there was a need for it at the moment.

That's ‘cause it's probably not an actual pig that has Bandit riled, she reminded herself.

Naomi focused on the excited bird. She couldn't really blame her hallucination and early morning run on the parrot, but he was the one who tugged her out of a peaceful sleep squawking about storms and pigs.

"All right, Bandit, let's get to the bottom of this." As long as Bandit was unsettled, she'd be unsettled, too. "Show me the bad pig."

Bandit flew several feet to the west, paused on a branch, and looked expectantly at her. This was their routine when he wanted her to follow, and if she refused, he'd squawk at her. This time, though, she wanted to solve this mystery, so she dutifully followed while Bandit led the way. As they headed through the woods, she kept an eye out for anything unusual .

It's probably nothing. Bandit had a tendency to turn a molehill into a mountain. Then why am I so nervous?

There was a weight in the pit of her stomach. It felt like she was waiting for the other shoe to drop. Why did she expect the worst?

Probably because I awoke stranded on a deserted island. Naomi grimaced. That was more than enough to make a girl jittery about unexpected surprises.

Faktil quo Laus

"This complicates things," Faktil groused as he started climbing back down the tree.

Despite being enamored with the little female, he'd planned to find someone else to help him after traumatizing her. Now it appeared she was his only option. Why she was all alone in the primitive dwelling made more sense. She needed just as much help as him.

She still might have a communicator. He'd been told that they were very common on Earth.

Abruptly, the branch he was standing on snapped.

"Torment!" he shouted as he started falling.

Faktil scrambled to latch onto the trunk or another branch, his claws scarring the bark, but he failed to grab hold or even slow his descent.

"Oof," he hit the ground, landing on his back, knocking the wind out of him.

Goddess on high! He groaned, unable to breathe as he lay there.

On any other day he would've landed on his feet, his tail helping him right himself. Not today, though. He glared up at the broken branch, dangling by a strip of bark. It had been perfectly fine on the climb up, no indication it was rotten, weak, or damaged.

His eyes widened as the last bit of bark holding the branch gave way and it came rocketing down, straight for him. Faktil rolled, narrowly missing being impaled in the gut.

"Son of a metcor !" he declared, gaping at the branch stabbing into the ground.

Faktil shook his head in utter disbelief as he sat up. With a stretch of his arms and legs he was relieved to find he hadn't broken any bones, but he was scraped up and sore. As he picked himself off the ground, he faltered.

I'm more tired than I realized, he acknowledged as he regained his balance. Maybe climbing the tree on an empty stomach wasn't so wise. It used up a lot of energy. And the fall certainly didn't help.

Now that it's light out, maybe I can try introducing myself to the female again. It's not like he had a lot of options.

"Assuming I survive the trek to her cabin," he groaned as he started hobbling through the forest.

It was slow going, since he didn't recall exactly where her dwelling was, but eventually he found his way.

"Greetings," he called gently when he first spotted the faded white siding on the cabin.

He waited and listened, but heard no movement coming from the trio of buildings.

"Greetings," he said louder, moving to the edge of the clearing. "I mean you no harm. Sorry I frightened you."

As he spoke, he took slow cautious steps into the clearing. The view through the cabin window revealed it was empty. He panned the two smaller, windowless buildings and listened. No sounds came from them, so he was rather sure they were also empty.

Faktil pulled in a deep breath, but her scent was intertwined with the floral perfume coming from the island, and his usually trusty sense of smell failed him. He could tell she spent a lot of time here, but couldn't discern if she was here now simply from her scent. He closed his eyes as he again pulled in the captivating cocktail of perfumes.

I may have banged up everything else, but my sense of smell is working. He let out a languorous sigh as his eyes flicked open again.

"I'm sure I frighten you, little Blossom, but I could use help, please," he calmly said as he ventured farther into the courtyard, though he had a strong feeling she wasn't here.

Suddenly something occurred to him.

She doesn't have a language implant!

It wasn't something humans received at a young age, like other races. They didn't even have the technological capability yet. All the humans he'd come in contact with recently had the implant because they'd been abducted, so he'd forgotten it wasn't common among them.

You fool! He growled at his stupidity. She won't be able to understand me.

Faktil hung his head, recalling something a human had said, which was even worse than not being understood .

The Cadi tongue is frightening.

Faktil froze, his gaze darting back to the cabin. If the little human heard his alien scary voice, she might be hiding.

This is going so well, he sarcastically lamented. He was supposed to be trying over, taking a gentler route, but merely being himself was a problem. I don't know who else to be!

He also didn't know what else to do to soften the blow of his foreignness. Slowly Faktil stepped onto the covered porch. He wanted to say something soothing, but not if his voice was frightening. He was better off silent as he peered into the cabin window .

Don't look menacing, he coached himself, except it didn't matter because the single room was empty. There wasn't even movement under the bed.

"Huh," he grunted as he stood straight, feeling a bit let down, though grateful he hadn't traumatized the cute little human for a second time.

The day is still young, he silently sniped as he took note of the sun's position overhead. It was a little past midday, so there was more than enough time to accidentally frighten her yet again. In fact, she was probably still hiding in the woods from their first encounter.

Just be patient and try to look non-threatening.

But how to do that? He glanced inside her dwelling again.

No. Bad idea. If she comes back to her home and finds you inside that would be disturbing.

Faktil did take a moment to pan the room again. Unfortunately, he couldn't discern all that she had on her shelves.

The uneasiness in his stomach twisted tighter. If she had a comm, she would've used it and wouldn't be on this island by herself. The strikes against him were starting to add up; his cruiser was at the bottom of the ocean, he was banged up, stranded, had no means to send an SOS, with a human who not only feared others, but couldn't understand him.

Don't get discouraged. It's just another kink in my tail, but as long as I'm alive there's a chance.

He'd been in dire situations before. The key wasn't to dwell on what you didn't have but what you did.

I didn't drown. I found land, and someone else. Although this is primitive. He glanced around the compound. It's better than a war camp with its tents. And my people won't abandon me. It may take them a while, but they'll come looking for me.

He thought of Thorac in particular and smiled. The Osivoire had become a great friend in the last year as they hunted the Jurou Biljana scourge. His friend would find him.

He felt lighter as he took a better look around. The wood plank porch ran the length of the front of the cabin, but was only a few paces deep. There was a large net hanging from the rafter that nearly reached the deck.

That's an odd place to hang a fishing net.

Next to the hanging snare was a tree stump big enough to sit on or act as a little table.

I wouldn't mind sitting here and admiring nature. Even though he was stranded he still found the landscape exceptionally beautiful.

Faktil nodded in appreciation and stepped off the porch to take a better look around the compound, starting to his left. Lined up along the side of the cabin were six jugs of water. At the corner of the building was a wooden barrel with a pipe leading up to the roof.

Rainwater collection. He nodded.

He bent and sniffed the water in the barrel. It looked and smelled clean. Faktil dipped his hands in and scooped out a handful. It tasted amazing and he suddenly realized how parched he was. After drinking his fill, he moved on.

He followed a rope stretched between two trees. It was obviously a garment drying line. He ran his hand over the towels hanging on it as he passed. At the end of the drying line, there were two more half-barrels holding water, and a board stretched over full-sized barrels, creating a crude table.

This must be for washing, he figured.

Another few steps brought him to the smallest shed. It was no broader than his arm span and barely taller than him. The structure was made of blue resin with little windows near the roof. Cautiously he opened the door and saw the lone seat with a basin underneath it .

Ah, a necessary.

Faktil continued on, bypassing the dirt trail that led to the beach, and approached the medium-sized structure. It was all metal, including its roof. Also attached to the roof were strange black panels that weren't on the other two buildings. Faktil opened the door and peered inside.

Storage shed. He nodded, not surprised by the discovery.

It was spartan like the cabin. There was a blue boat, bundles of rope, empty jugs, a couple of cutting tools, and a few other things. It hardly seemed like enough supplies to survive on an island.

He closed the door, turned, and considered the courtyard again. The firepit in the middle had a few stumps around it.

That's probably the best place to wait.

As he headed to one of the stumps, he passed the drying rack. Faktil's stomach growled and cramped, forcing him to pause. He studied the root vegetables that were cut up and laid out to dry. The white tubers had little purple veins running through them. As he stared at them his mouth watered. Of its own freewill, his hand reached out, grabbed a few slices, and was cramming them into his mouth. Before he knew it, he'd polished off half the upper rack.

"Oh no." His eyes widened, appalled by what he'd just done.

By the goddess. You think robbing her of her food is going to help you make friends? Torment!

He was just so damn hungry. It was painfully apparent he hadn't eaten in days.

I need to fix this. His gaze went to the path leading to the beach. I need to go fishing again to replenish what I stole.

He'd planned to wait here, but after what he'd done he couldn't. Also, the rest of the drying root vegetables were too much of a temptation. With an incredulous shake of his head, he left the compound.

Naomi

"No-me," Bandit called to her as he fluttered into a small clearing.

He landed on the bottom branch of an exceptionally large koa tree. It towered over the surrounding trees and was as wide as she was tall. It was a stunning tree, but it was the large branch stabbing the ground in front of it that caught her attention. She had a feeling they'd reached their destination by the way Bandit stayed put, watching her assess the situation.

The fallen branch is a little wild. It's a pretty big limb and it's stabbed into the ground at least a foot , she noted as she approached it. That's not something she saw every day and Bandit tended to raise the alarm when anything was out of whack or simply seemed to intrigue him. But how is this a bad pig? Does he equate pig with any noun that's wronged him?

"Is this the bad pig?" She poked the branch. "Were you on the branch when it fell?" she asked, trying to tease out what happened.

"No, no, no. Bad pig." Bandit pointedly stared into the canopy.

She followed his gaze. Something happened up there, but all she could see was where the branch broke about thirty feet up.

"No. Hmm?"

Bandit was smart, he knew what no meant and had used it often. Something was getting lost in the translation. He could just as easily be rebuking the branch as he could be telling her it wasn't the culprit.

She frowned as she took a look around. The leaves littering the ground beneath the tree were disturbed, but unfortunately the ground was too dry to see tracks of any kind. Her gaze paused on the base of the tree.

"What is that?" She got closer. Something had marred the bark. "Is this it?" She glanced at Bandit.

"Bad pig," the parrot hissed as he flapped from the branch and onto her shoulder.

She studied the marks that were roughly waist high on the tree. The four deep parallel scrapes were several inches long. It looked a little like something made by a wildcat or a bear, but those weren't native to the islands.

"I guess it could be a pig," she commented, her brow furrowing. The wild boars scraped their tusks on the trees and could be very destructive. "Except the damage they cause isn't this uniform."

She looked up and spotted another set of evenly spaced score marks, not far from the broken branch.

"That is definitely not from a boar," she whispered, worry creeping in. She glanced at Bandit on her shoulder and spotted his talons. She reached up and examined one. "They're not from you. Your claws are much too small. Maybe a hawk did this."

The islands didn't have a lot of raptors but there were some.

"No wonder you're worried." Hawks hunted smaller birds. "You're okay. Just stick with me and we'll keep an eye out." She rubbed Bandit's head.

She'd make sure to keep a close eye on Bandit, too. Well, as much as she could, since he was as wild as he was domesticated. The last thing she wanted was to lose her only friend.

"Good boy for showing me." She gave Bandit some final scratches, pleased they'd solved the mystery.

"Good boy," Bandit repeated, ruffling his wings as he wiggled on her shoulder.

"That's right. How about we take this ‘ulu home and grab something to eat?" She patted her canvas bag full of breadfruit.

"Eat. Eat." Bandit bobbed his head in agreement.

"You really are a fruit bandit," she chuckled at his enthusiasm over food.

Bandit seemed more at ease as they headed back to the cabin. He wasn't as chatty as he usually was, but his claws weren't anxiously gouging her shoulder either. Meanwhile, she was now worried about some hawk swooping in and plucking him off her shoulder. Bandit was her fuzzy little buddy. The first few weeks when she was here all alone, she'd nearly gone mad. Then Bandit showed up with his goofy antics and brightened her day. Even though he made her a little loopy sometimes, she loved him dearly. She'd be devastated if anything happened to him.

No hawk is taking my little Bandit.

She warily scanned the treetops as they walked, looking for the bird that made those claw marks.

"Well, I didn't see anything. Did you?" she asked Bandit as they reached home, though it was more of a rhetorical question.

"Bad pig no peek-a-boo," Bandit trilled while perched on her shoulder.

She chuckled at his interpretation.

"No, the hawk didn't surprise us." She ruffled his belly fluff. "Come on, let's wash the ‘ulu. "

Bandit fluttered from her shoulder, landing on the rim of the barrel as she washed the sap off the breadfruit. She couldn't help but flick water at him.

"Coo coo No-me!" he trilled, dipping a wing in the water to flip water back at her.

"No, you're a cuckoo bird," she giggled as she scooped up the rinsed fruit.

Still chuckling, Naomi carried the breadfruit to the firepit to cut up after they ate.

"Son of a bitch!" she declared when she noticed that half of the sliced taro drying on the top rack was gone.

"Son a bitch!" Bandit repeated, landing on the nearby stump.

"When we get rescued, I'm telling them you already had that potty mouth," she snorted.

Naomi turned back to the drying rack. The missing taro amounted to three good sized baked potatoes, so not a great loss, but something was weird about the way she'd been robbed.

The birds only stole from this half of the top rack. Her brow furrowed. That's odd.

Usually when the birds raided her, food went missing here and there on all levels of the drying rack, but this was an organized raid. Her gaze drifted suspiciously to Bandit. Maybe he was to blame for this. He was the only bird who was comfortable enough to sit here and casually eat like it was a buffet. He did have his name for a reason.

"Whatever. At least it's not a total loss." She shrugged and put down the breadfruit to deal with later. "Come on, Bandit, let's eat something. Although, from the looks of it, you already had lunch. I really hope eating all that raw taro doesn't upset your belly." She waved the parrot toward the cabin .

They shared a late lunch of leftover taro fries she'd made the night before, roasted kukui nuts, dried fish, and some passion fruit for dessert.

"We're getting low on dried fish. I really don't feel like fishing this late in the day, but maybe we can collect some limpets," she said as she offered Bandit the last bit of fruit.

"No fish. Fruit," Bandit cheeped then snatched the sweet tidbit.

"You're going to turn into a piece of fruit," she chuckled as she cleaned up.

As she passed the firepit, she made sure to grab her canvas bag. Thankfully Bandit followed her and they took the path to the beach.