Chapter 6: The Most Dangerous Word

Eve’s Home – Night

Eve eventually got over her shock, her ragged breathing slowly steadying, in no small part to Adam’s comforting touch. After removing the knife from the doe’s body and handing it back to Eve, Adam effortlessly lifted the carcass over his shoulder, the limp dead weight settling across his powerful frame as if it were nothing. They then backtracked their way through the moon-drenched jungle, their path a silent, sure trail back to the spot where they had buried the buck.

Upon arrival, Adam set down the doe with a soft thud and had the buck unearthed in no time. He moved the earth with his bare hands, the rich soil flying from his fingers. He then slung both the doe and the buck over his shoulders, their bodies settling into a balanced, familiar weight, and started in the direction of Eve’s home.

“Wait,” Eve said, hurrying to keep up. “I can carry one.”

Adam quickly said, “Not to worry. It’s no trouble,

But Eve insisted. “Let me help. I want to pull my own weight.”

After a bit more prodding, he finally acquiesced, handing the smaller doe over to Eve with one arm. As Adam predicted, the moment he let go, the full weight hit her. Her knees buckled, and she pitched forward, stumbling and falling over, unable to hold the weight. Feeling like a proper fool, Eve struggled in the dirt as she got up and handed the doe back to the grinning Adam, silently warning him not to laugh as she gave him a stern look.

Adam then set a brisk pace back to Eve’s home. Even loaded down with two deer, he moved with an accelerated, ground-eating lope that was fast enough to give Eve a slight workout as she struggled to keep pace.

When they were finally in the safety of Eve’s tree, climbing into the glowing, familiar sanctuary, both felt a wave of relief wash over them. The comforting scents of moss and fungi were a welcome antidote to the coppery tang of blood that clung to them. As they caught their breath, Eve suddenly realized something.

“Wait. Why did we bring the bodies back here? Won’t the smell attract predators?”

Adam gave her a knowing grin. “I’ve been doing a bit of thinking lately,” he explained, his voice proud. “I realized that so long as there’s two of us, it’ll be better to eat all our meals at a single base of operations. A place that we know is safe and has been marked as our territory.”

Eve asked, “But ... I never marked this place.”

Adam admitted sheepishly, “Well ... remember how you told me never to piss in front of you? I kept that in mind, and instead pissed in the woods around the tree. Animals familiar with my scent will be discouraged from bothering us ... if they know what’s good for them.”

Eve put her hands to her hips, sniffing the air curiously. “Huh. I thought I smelled something different about these woods. Well, at least you didn’t piss in front of me. Then I would’ve thrown you out.”

Adam turned his attention back to the two corpses laid out on the mossy floor. “I’ve also been thinking about other things, like how to conceal scent. And perhaps maybe even storing food for later.”

Eve squinted. “Storing food?”

Adam nodded excitedly. “Yes. Like the way I buried the buck so we could come back for it later. It was gathering your berries that gave me the idea. I started to remember that certain plants have functions other than food.”

Adam then gestured at the deer, already envisioning the required process. “We’ll cut up the deer into tiny bits and wrap them in certain leaves. The broad, waxy leaves of the sun-burst tree, for example. They’re thick and non-porous, so they’d hold in the scent. And we could use the shadow-leaf, the one with the numbing properties. I suspect its chemical composition has a preservative quality as well. The leaves will hide the scent and also preserve the meat longer than usual. Then we’ll bury the meat in sealed packets at the base of the tree and eat it at our leisure.”

Eve stared at Adam in wonder. “How do you know all this?”

Adam shrugged. “How did you know how to make clothes when the idea just struck you today? How do we both know so many words when no one has ever taught us? There’s something about us, Eve. We just know things. It’s hard to say why at this point, but we might as well put our knowledge to use.”

Adam leaned down and ran his fingers through the deer’s thick, brown fur, admiring the texture. “Speaking of use, I think we’ll take a bit of our friends with us. A way of respecting their sacrifice to us long after their meat has been devoured.” He held out his hand. “Give me the knife.”

Eve complied, and Adam went about skinning the deer. The process was clinical and brutally efficient. He made a precise incision around each of the deer’s legs, just above the knees. Then, with a practiced hand, he sliced a line down the inside of each leg to the initial slit he’d made on the belly. From there, he worked the blade under the skin, using his fingers to pull the hide away from the muscle. He peeled it back in a single, continuous sheet, the sound a soft, tearing whisper as the connective tissue gave way.

Eve did her best not to react as he worked, forcing herself to watch the dispassionate process. She wanted to be brave and strong like Adam, not crying all the time like a whining infant.

Infant. That word stirred things in her, a deep, primal flutter of possibility and fear. She reflexively started rubbing her belly, wondering if they might expect a child of their own one day ... and wondering if she would’ve worked up the courage to tell Adam how much she loved him by then.

When Adam had finished skinning the deer, he went about the process of turning their fur coats into clothes with what he had available. He was a methodical and efficient butcher. He first stretched the doe’s hide on a flat patch of ground, scraping it clean with a sharp-edged rock to remove every last vestige of fat and membrane, leaving behind a supple, pale leather. He cut the hide into long, thick strips, then used a thinner, sharpened stake to poke holes along the edges. He worked the tough sinew from the deer’s legs into a durable, natural thread.

While he worked on that, his focus absolute, he told Eve, “Go ahead and start eating. The meat will spoil if we wait.”

Eve grimaced. This part might prove even harder for her than the hunt. She leaned down over the buck’s carcass, the coppery scent of blood filling her nostrils, trying to find the best place to start. Seeing her hesitation, Adam, without looking up from his lacing, ripped off a thick, dark red chunk of muscle from the haunch. He took a bloody bite, his powerful jaws working with an easy, primal rhythm. It was terrifying and somehow alluring, her savage brute of a man, eating raw meat like it was a piece of fruit. He handed her the piece he was holding, indicating the tenderloin, a long, cylindrical strip of meat nestled against the spine.

“Start here,” he said. “It’s the most tender.”

Eve hesitated, the raw, coppery smell and the slick, wet texture of the flesh turning her stomach. Then, steeling herself, she took a big bite. The taste was an explosion of sensations she was completely unprepared for. It was rich, gamey, and intensely metallic, with a faint, underlying sweetness. The texture was chewy and fibrous, and it clung to her teeth and the roof of her mouth. It was nothing like fruit, nothing like anything she had ever experienced. It was the taste of life and death in a single mouthful.

Adam paused from his work as he studied her reaction, his crimson eyes analytical. “Well? Do you like it or hate it?”

Eve had mixed feelings. She shrugged, swallowing with some difficulty. “Hard to say. I guess if I had to describe the taste, it’s ... at least the most interesting thing I’ve ever eaten.” She sighed. “If only we could cook it.”

Adam frowned. “Cook?”

Eve gasped, a sudden, sharp intake of breath as a flood of new information poured into her mind. “Yes! I’m remembering something else now. Something to do with heat and...” Her eyes went wide. “Fire! Adam, have you ever made a fire before?”

She had his full attention now, the word ‘fire’ seeming to excite something deep and primal in him. “No,” he said slowly. “But I ... I seem to recall what fire is. And some of its uses as well.”

Eve scratched her head, her mind racing. “I ... I’m trying to remember how to make fire. We ... we need ... certain rocks!”

Adam’s eyes were just as excited as he said, “Flint! And ... and we need something for fuel, too! Like dried leaves!”

Eve stood up. “I’ll get the fuel!”

Adam said, “And I’ll get the rocks!”

They both dashed away, like children discovering a new game, excited in their shared discovery of a foundational technology. It took some time, but they soon found what they were looking for. Adam returned with two heavy chunks of flint, and Eve gathered a large pile of the driest tinder she could find—cracked, brittle bark, wispy moss, and a multitude of dry, shed leaves. They cleared a space on the stone floor of the nest, arranging the tinder into a small, tepee-like structure.

Adam’s hands shook with excitement as he held up the two flint stones. Eve found herself grinning as Adam struck the flint together. Clack. A dull, disappointing sound. Nothing happened. He took a deep breath and tried again, changing the angle. Clack. Again, nothing happened. Adam growled in frustration, his brow furrowed in concentration as he searched for the correct angle and the right amount of force. Finally, after several failures, he did it. A tiny, brilliant orange spark flew from the impact point and landed in the center of their tinder pile.

Eve laughed, a sound of pure delight, and Adam found himself laughing as well, a deep, booming sound of triumph. Adam became more efficient at striking the flint, his movements growing more confident with each try. Soon, the sparks caught on the dry tinder. A fragile, orange glow bloomed, fed by their careful breaths. It grew, licking at the larger leaves and twigs, until they had a full-blown fire going, crackling and popping, a miniature sun in their arboreal home.

They both stared in wonder at the dancing flames. Heat and light radiated outward, pushing back the oppressive shadows of the jungle night. Eve held her hand out, feeling the unfamiliar, pleasant warmth, looking hypnotized.

“It’s so warm.”

Adam nodded, his expression turning serious. “If I remember correctly ... it can also be dangerous. We have to watch it carefully and make sure it doesn’t catch on the trees around us. And then we need to put it out when we’re done.”

Eve was giggling like a fool as she went back to the deer corpses and tore off another chunk of meat. She then found a sharp, green stick and expertly skewered the piece of meat, holding it out over the flames. The fat began to sizzle and drip, sending up a column of fragrant, aromatic smoke that made her mouth water. The skin of the meat crisped and turned a delicious, golden-brown.

When the meat was cooked to her liking, she gingerly took a bite, careful not to burn her tongue. The meat was hot, but it definitely tasted better now. The gamey flavor was still there, but it was mellowed, deepened, and complemented by a smoky richness. She hummed with pleasure.

“Adam,” she gasped. “You’ve got to try this.”

She handed him the roasted chunk on the stick. He hesitated, looking from the cooked meat to the raw carcass, a creature of habit facing a new paradigm. And then he took a bite. His eyes went wide.

“This is the best meat I’ve ever tasted.”

Eve giggled. “And to think, you’ve been eating meat raw this whole time. I swear, you’d be lost without me.”

Adam then hummed thoughtfully. “Still. Could use some seasoning.”

Eve froze. “Seasoning?”

Adam froze too. “Yes,” he said slowly. “Another word associated with cooking.” He looked at Eve. “I think some of your plants can be used for that. And certain kinds of rocks, too.”

Eve was already getting a mental list of all the items they had available that could be used for seasoning—the sharp, spicy berries that made her mouth pucker, the pungent roots that smelled like onion, and even the salt-licks she had found by the river, where the animals gathered to lick the mineral-rich stones.

She got up, saying, “I’ll go get some!”

While Adam leaned against the trunk of the great ironwood tree, savoring the unfamiliar smoky richness of the seasoned meat, Eve went into the jungle, a vibrant energy propelling her. The fire had illuminated more than just their nest; it had lit a path of endless possibility in her mind. She started gathering the plants she needed, her excitement making her bold. She ventured a little farther than she intended, deeper into the tangled, moon-dappled undergrowth, her focus entirely on the botanical treasures she was collecting—the pungent onion-scented roots, the blood-red spicy berries.

Then she heard a rustle behind her, a sound too heavy to be a small animal, too deliberate to be the wind.

“Adam?” she said, turning, a smile on her lips, expecting to find him there, drawn by her excitement.

It was not Adam. Instead, it was one of those huge, terrifying apes looming over her, a hulking mass of muscle and shadow. Its frame was a grotesque parody of the human form, with shoulders as broad as a bull’s and long, powerful arms that hung almost to its knees. Its face was hideous, a flat mask of brutish power with a prognathous jaw and yellowed, worn tusks jutting from its lower lip. Its eyes, small and pig-like, shone with a cold, malicious intelligence that was infinitely more frightening than the primal instincts of any other predator.

Eve tried to scream, a raw cry of terror building in her throat, but the ape moved with terrifying speed. Its massive, leathery hand clamped over her mouth, cutting off her breath, and it grabbed her, its fingers digging painfully into her arm. Eve struggled, fighting furiously, her body thrashing against its iron grip. But the beast was too strong. In its arms, she could tell that it could crush her with relative ease, its embrace a cage of unyielding force.

Instead of killing her, it started carrying her, lifting her off her feet as if she weighed nothing and moving deeper into the jungle, taking her to who knew where.

Eve was terrified, a cold, liquid dread seeping into her bones. But beneath the terror for herself was something deeper, more profound. The terror of never seeing Adam again. Never hearing his low, rumbling voice again. Never touching his warm skin again. Never making love with him again. That thought made her fight all the harder against her primitive opponent. She hit, she kicked, and she bit, sinking her teeth into the coarse, tough skin of its arm, eventually irritating the creature.