For several days, they followed the monkeys' paths, gathering fruit and observing their habits. It became routine, a small rhythm of survival. But one morning, as she scanned the distant horizon from a high vantage point near the cave, her eyes caught something unusual—a thin wisp of smoke rising on the far side of the mountain.
"Mom, what is it?" her daughter asked, pointing.
"That… could be people," she whispered, her heart skipping a beat. She took a deep breath, steadying herself. "We need to find out. But carefully. We won't know if they're friendly or dangerous yet."
They gathered some of the edible fruit they had collected and filled their crude bamboo bottles with water. Taking only what was essential, they moved cautiously down the slope, keeping low in the bushes. Every sound—the snap of a twig, a rustle of leaves—made her freeze and scan the surroundings. Her daughter stayed close, quietly imitating her mother's careful movements.
It took nearly half a day to cross the forested area and reach the ridge where the smoke originated. From there, they saw them: huts. Simple, primitive dwellings constructed from wood, leaves, and mud. A small village, clustered in a clearing. Smoke rose from several hearths, curling into the sky.
Her heart swelled for a moment. Life—others—humanity. For a second, hope flickered. They weren't completely alone. Perhaps these people could offer help, companionship, or safety in numbers.
But then caution returned, cold and sharp. She crouched behind a bush, pulling her daughter down beside her. "See, love… we don't know anything yet. They could be dangerous. Aggressive. Or worse—they might be another group like the ones down by the beach, people who've lost their minds in chaos."
Her daughter's small hand squeezed hers, sensing her mother's tension. "Mom… should we go?"
"I don't know yet," she whispered. "Living alone is hard, yes—but walking into strangers, even if they're humans… we have to be smart. We watch, learn, and decide the safest way."
They settled down in the shadows of the ridge, hidden from view, observing the huts. People moved about—some tending small fires, others carrying water, some working with plants. Nothing overtly threatening yet, but every instinct told her to remain vigilant.
This discovery opened new possibilities, but also new dangers. Could they trust this primitive tribe? Could her little daughter survive among strangers? Or was solitude, however harsh, still their safest choice for now?
For the rest of the day, they remained hidden, silently cataloging everything they saw, knowing that their next decision could shape the rest of their lives.
After observing the distant huts and weighing the danger, she decided it was best to return to their own cave before nightfall. Carefully, she led her daughter back through the forest, retracing their steps and keeping alert for any sudden noises. The bamboo bottles and a small bundle of fruit were safely carried, evidence of their cautious exploration.
When they reached the cave, the familiar smell of earth and grass greeted them, a small comfort after a long day of tension and vigilance. She quickly arranged a few sticks to revive the fire, adding some dry leaves and kindling. The flames flickered to life, casting warm, golden light against the cave walls. Her daughter helped feed a few small sticks into the fire, the glow reflecting in her curious, tired eyes.
"Good girl," she whispered, ruffling her daughter's hair. "We're safe here, for now."
Exhausted from the day's trek and the mental strain of watching unknown humans from afar, they finally settled onto their makeshift beds. Grass and leaves provided some cushioning, and the fire's warmth seeped into their bones, easing the chill of the mountain night.
The mother pulled her daughter close, wrapping an arm around her and feeling the steady rise and fall of her chest. "Sleep now," she murmured softly. "Tomorrow we'll plan. We'll figure out food, water, and what to do about the people we saw."
Her daughter's eyes slowly closed, comforted by the rhythm of her mother's heartbeat. For a moment, the world outside—the dangers, the chaos—was forgotten.
She herself lay back, staring at the ceiling of the cave, thinking of the day's discoveries. The fire crackled, throwing shadows across the walls, and in that small circle of warmth and light, she allowed herself a brief moment of relief. They had survived another day. They were together.
And for now, that was enough.
The morning was calm, the air warm and humid, carrying the earthy scent of the mountain forest after last night's rain. She woke early, gently nudging her daughter awake, and together they gathered wild fruits, tubers, and leafy vegetables. Each step through the forest was cautious but methodical—they had grown skilled in recognizing edible plants, and every small success felt like a victory.
As she arranged their finds in the cave, sorting fruit on larger leaves and stashing tubers in the cooler back section, she paused. A distant, deep rumble vibrated through the earth beneath her feet. At first, she thought it was her imagination—but then the ground trembled slightly beneath her soles.
Her heart tightened. She stepped to the cave entrance, pulling her daughter close. Far below, the forest edge shimmered with a strange, restless movement. The water at the lower rivers and ponds seemed agitated, reflecting the sun in a restless, churning pattern.
"What's happening, Mom?" her daughter whispered, clutching her hand.
She swallowed hard. "Something… something big is coming. Stay close to me."
Peering down the slope, she saw the first real signs: trees bending unnaturally against the wind, the distant ocean swelling in ways that defied calm logic. Birds scattered in frantic flocks, and small animals scurried from the forest edge. Even monkeys she had once observed leapt higher into the canopy, sensing danger far before her human eyes could.
A massive wave began to rise in the distance, glimmering like a moving cliff of water. The sound of it—a low, terrifying roar—hit her ears even before the wind carried it closer. Her pulse raced. The monster she had glimpsed in her dreams was real.