Dawn.

Warm, golden sunlight

poured into the single window

of Nasha’s hut,

falling upon the

hideous but blissful

sleeping visage

of Shadow-Thing.

Nasha the Serious

sat in a chair nearby,

watching the strange man-animal

as he took long, noisy breaths

and dreamed

whatever he was dreaming.

Who was he?

Where did he come from?

And what part

would she play in his story,

if any?

Nasha sighed,

and got to her feet.

Nasha kicked Shadow-Thing’s foot.

His eyes flew open, and his head lifted;

he did not know where he was.

“Come on, get up,” said Nasha.

His eyes met hers, and he smiled.

He yawned,

and rose out of bed.

“We’re going to the bay,”

Nasha said,

knowing he did not understand her,

but like most people,

Nasha had a hard time fathoming

someone not understanding

her language.

He brought his hand to his lips,

gesturing at her.

“I know you’re hungry,” said Nasha.

“I’m hungry too.

But we have to work for our food.

Follow me.”

She waved with her hand,

and he seemed to understand,

following her out the door.

Nasha picked up a clay pot

sitting outside her hut,

and led Shadow-Thing

out of the village,

down a path

through the forest.

He laughed as he found his legs

walking on their own momentum

down the incline.

“I came here, oh,

maybe three years ago,”

said Nasha.

“A friend told me about it.

No one bothers us here.”

She pushed a branch out of her way

on the path.

Shadow-Thing laughed again

as he watched the branch

bounce back towards him.

“It’s mostly Shaala here,”

Nasha continued.

Shaala was the name

the lizard people

had for themselves.

“But there are others.”

They came to a rocky beach of a small bay.

It was beautiful.

Shadow-Thing’s eyes lit up —

the sky was flushed with green and pink,

and the diaphanous light

shimmered on the surface

of the bay’s almond-colored waters.

“Come with me,” Nasha said.

They walked down the beach a bit.

Shadow-Thing could see

other Shaala

distantly around the bay —

lounging, fishing,

sleeping, cooking around fires.

Nasha began whistling,

her steps lively.

She was happy.

But she was not sure why.

Nasha the Serious

stopped walking down the beach,

and led Shadow-Thing

to the water.

She pointed at the rocky shallows.

“See?” she asked him.

Shadow-Thing did not

understand.

Nasha frowned, and kneeled,

reaching into the water,

twisting her arm,

and pulling out

what looked like a curved black rock.

She showed it to Shadow-Thing.

“Inside is food,” she told him.

She started pulling the mussels

from the water,

and throwing them into the pot.

Shadow-Thing saw

what she was doing,

and copied her movements,

dropping the wet molluscs

into the pot as she did.

But,

Shadow-Thing was SO hungry.

He pulled out a mussel

and examined it,

trying to figure out

what to do with it.

He saw the seam,

and pried at it with his fingers.

He banged it against a rock.

“Hey, hey,” said Nasha,

“What are you doing?”

Shadow-Thing kept banging the shell

against the rock,

delirious with hunger.

The shell broke,

and he picked at it,

eating small bits of the slippery meat.

“By the Holy Mother,”

said Nasha.

She watched him

as he tried to pull more meat

from the cracked shell.

Nasha shook Shadow-Thing’s shoulder

to get his attention.

“Look,” she said,

pulling her knife from her belt.

“If you’re so damn hungry,

do this.”

She expertly slipped the blade

into the seam of the shells,

pried it open,

and handed it to Shadow-Thing.

“Here. But if you wait,

I’ll cook them.”

He lifted the mussel to his face,

and with a combination

of chewing and sucking,

he ate the meat

with tremendous satisfaction.

Once he had managed to consume

every last bit of the mussel,

he dropped the empty shell

and burped.

Nasha laughed.

“Well, you’re not royalty,

that’s for sure.”

Shadow-Thing took the knife,

picked out another mussel,

and tried to replicate

Nasha’s movements.

But he was clumsy,

his hands were new to him,

and he slit open the tip

of his left index finger.

Blood spilled out of the wound,

running into his palm.

“Guh!”

Shadow-Thing moaned,

aghast

at the hot red liquid

flowing out of him.

“Guh!” he said again.

“You poor thing,” said Nasha.

She took his injured hand

into her own

and examined the wound.

“It’s not so bad,” she said.

“You’re going to have to learn

to be patient.”

She thrust his wounded hand into the water.

“Guh!”

Shadow-Thing shouted,

for the third, final, and loudest time.

The salt water rushed into his cut,

bringing with it

a stinging sensation

that trickled from his wound

down his finger

into his palm.

“I’m sorry,” Nasha said.

“But the salt water

will keep the demons out.”

She let go of his hand,

and he drew it to his chest,

like he was protecting a wounded bird.

Nasha the Serious

took a breath,

watched Shadow-Thing’s

dejected face

and went back to collecting

the mussels.

I just wish I knew his name,

she thought.

to be continued...

If you like He-Thing, please like, comment, or follow. It means a lot more to me than you might imagine.