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You have to be prepared.
But when the woman suddenly stops, turns, and starts running toward me with a loud scream, it’s safe to say I am not prepared. I don’t move as she barrels into me and starts pummeling me with her tiny fists. It doesn’t hurt and I’m more confused than injured.
“Why are you following me?” She screams. She punches my chest. Punch. Punch. Punch. “Go away and leave me alone! I don’t want you here! Go away!”
She yells and starts to cry, but soon her tears become too much for her and she stops hitting me and just keeps crying.
“Why is this happening?” She says, sounding defeated. Then she sits down at my feet and wraps her arms around herself and just cries.
And cries.
And cries.
And I don’t know what to do with her. I don’t know how to handle this sort of situation. This is unlike anything I’ve ever dealt with before. Animals are easy, predictable. Each type of animal has its own behavioral patterns that rarely vary or change. Whether I’m hunting in the northern or southern parts of the jungle, I can figure out how the animals will behave depending on the weather, the noise levels, the wind. I can predict these things and I can catch my prey accordingly.
This woman, though?
She’s nothing like what I’m used to hunting.
And hearing her cry makes me feel a little sad.
It shouldn’t. I don’t know her. She’s not Hayden or Quinn or Fiona. Hell, she’s not Gaz. I don’t have any emotional attachment to her, so it doesn’t make sense that I would feel anything for her.
Quinn is the gentle one, the compassionate one. My brother has a heart bigger than I can possibly imagine or understand, but I’m not that way. I’ve never been that way. No, I’m cold and calculating. I’m a hunter through-and-through. I’m cautious and callous because I have to be in order to catch my prey.
It’s the way I was built.
But seeing this little human is making me feel things I’m not prepared to feel. I don’t like the way she looks when she’s sad. I don’t like that I’ve frightened her. I don’t like that I’ve made her feel scared.
So I do something I shouldn’t do, something I wouldn’t imagine doing in a thousand years. Instead of leaving, instead of abandoning her, I sit down in front of her, pull her easily into my lap, and wrap my arms around her.
I don’t speak and she doesn’t resist. She just keeps crying and I’m not sure what to do. The only female I’ve ever held like this is Hayden. My little sister has been to hell and back again in her young life, and there was a period when all she did was cry. After her kidnapping, I used to hold her while she sobbed. I would rub her back and I would sing to her.
Maybe that will work on this little human.
I pull her closer to myself.
I’m sweaty and covered in dirt and grime and jungle, but she’s dirty, too, and she doesn’t seem to mind the fact that I’m not pristine. Maybe she’s not as big of a snob as I thought.
I begin to rub her back and she tenses slightly, as if she’s surprised at the touch. Her sobs slow a little bit, and I feel relieved. Good. This is working. I rub her back with my hand and try to remember the words to the song Hayden loves so much. My sister is very particular about her music and when she was lost and hurting, she was even more insistent on keeping things a certain way.
I had to sing the same damn song every time I held her.
Now I sing to the human.
“When you were lost,” I begin. She instantly stops shaking and her sobs downgrade to sniffles. “You were never alone. You were never on your own. You were never truly lost, you know, because you were always in my heart.” The words come back to me and the melody carries in the air.
The jungle seems to grow smaller, more quiet, as I sing to the girl in my arms. After a moment, she rests her head against my chest, but I keep singing, keep rubbing her back, keeping touching her while I finish the song.
There’s something different about this girl, there’s something special that makes me want to know more about her. Why is she here? Why is she in such a rush? More importantly, where is she going?
Or what is she running from?
I realize suddenly that maybe I had her pegged wrong. Maybe she’s not here to ruin my hunting expedition or to explore the woods. Maybe she’s here because she doesn’t have a choice. Maybe she’s here because she’s afraid. Maybe she’s here because someone is after her.
Maybe that’s why she doesn’t have a bag.
Maybe she’s on the run, maybe she’s scared, and maybe she’s being hunted by something worse than me.
