Aya had learned in her short time here that silence was rarely safe. In silence, predators stalked unseen. In silence, thoughts grew teeth. But now, after the kidnappers' trail had gone cold and the jungle swallowed all traces of them, silence was all they had.
Aya guided Tessa deeper, through roots that jutted like ribs from the ground and ferns that fanned out in great green walls.
The child stumbled often, still trembling from shock, but she never let go of Aya once she had taken hold of her. Aya glanced down at that small hand—dirt under the fingernails, faint bruises on the wrist where she'd been grabbed—and tightened her jaw. She'd seen those marks before. Different world, different circumstances, same cruelty.
Eventually, Aya found a rocky alcove tucked against a slope, half-concealed by drooping vines. The place smelled of moss and rain-soaked stone, but it had shelter and only one narrow entrance. She crouched, testing the ground, then nodded.
"This will do." She spoke to herself in a mildly incomprehensible Japanese, but her voice startled Tessa, who blinked at her, uncomprehending.
Aya sighed. Language. That's the wall now.
The girl whispered something—quick, soft syllables that slid together, melodic but alien. Aya tilted her head."I don't understand."
Tessa repeated herself, more carefully this time, and pointed to her chest. Her lips formed a name."…Tessa."
Aya tried the sound. "Teh…ssa?"
The girl's eyes lit up, cautious but certain. She nodded, tapping her chest again.
Aya felt a faint smile tug at her lips despite herself. She mirrored the gesture. "Aya."
Tessa hesitated, then repeated: "Ah…ya."
The crude bridge they had built with two names felt like the first real victory of the day.
They spent the fading daylight fumbling through more gestures. Aya pointed to the sky, made a sweeping motion with her hand. "Sky." Tessa tilted her head, then murmured a word of her own. Aya repeated it clumsily, earning a startled laugh.
It was the first time Aya had heard her laugh. Thin and fleeting, but real.
They worked in fragments:
Aya touches her abdomen, saying, "Hungry."
Tessa echoed, then offered the word in her tongue. "Kria"
Aya pointing to water, tracing waves with her hand. Tessa says " Aqia"
Their sentences were made of motions, their grammar of patience. And somehow, it was working.
When Aya unwrapped dried meat she had scavenged earlier, Tessa hesitated, eyeing it with suspicion. Aya bit a piece herself, chewed slowly, and then gestured for her to eat. The girl took it like a small animal, cautious and quick, but once she tasted it, her expression softened with gratitude.
They sat together in quiet companionship, listening to the jungle breathe. Crickets chirped in waves, frogs called from unseen pools, and distant howls reminded Aya that their safety was fragile. Still, the alcove gave them a pocket of peace.
Aya leaned back against the stone, watching Tessa curl up near the wall. She looked smaller than before, exhaustion shrinking her into herself. Aya should have been planning their next move—mapping escape routes, rationing supplies—but her gaze lingered on the girl's fragile form.
She remembered debates back in her old life—arguing abstractly about morality, survival, and selfishness. It was easy to be ruthless in theory. Harder when someone's quiet breathing depended on you.
"Don't worry," Aya whispered, even knowing Tessa couldn't understand. "I'll protect you."
The words felt foreign in her mouth. But true.
Night crept in. Aya did not sleep, though her body longed to. Instead, she let her mind stretch outward, every rustle and shift of the jungle catalogued and filed away. Her body was still, but her thoughts were restless.
Tessa stirred in her sleep, murmuring Aya's name in a slurred half-dream. Aya glanced at her, startled. The name had come out wrong—softened, misshaped—but recognizable.
Aya's chest tightened, a strange warmth seeping through her.
"…You're learning faster than me," she murmured, almost amused.
For once, the silence of the jungle felt less like teeth, and more like a blanket.
Tomorrow, they would try again. Tomorrow, Aya would learn more words. Tomorrow, perhaps, they would start to understand each other