Page 43 of Love in the Wild

Eden.

He knew what he was meant to do. The jungle was speaking the name of his mate. He had to obey. It was time, whether he succeeded or failed, to find Eden and try to fit into her world.

Thorne rose, and with one final goodbye to his parents’ resting place, he returned to the jungle. Within minutes he was swinging on the thick vines and landing on crisscrossing branches until he reached the path that would lead him to Bwanbale’s village.

As he reached the forest’s edge, he stood in the same spot where he had let Eden go. His heart hammered at the memory that had once hurt him, yet now held hope. He saw the small brightly coloredshambahouses, their grounds, according to Bwanbale, thick with fruit and vegetables, many of which Thorne had never seen before.

At the time, Thorne could not fathom what else he would ever wish to eat besides nuts and mangoes, other than the occasional deer he hunted. But now he wondered—wondered about all the things Bwanbale had spoken of.

The sun was cresting the tops of the trees as Thorne stepped out of the jungle. He would show no fear, even if his heart felt it. A few humans nearby noticed him and froze. One human child was brave enough to approach him. She stopped a few feet away, her beautiful brown eyes warm with innocence and curiosity.

“I am Dembe Apio. You are the jungle man?” she asked in Swahili.

“I am.” He crouched to put himself level with the child. He had never seen a human child up close before. He saw Dembe and thought she was beautiful.

She held out a tiny hand. “Come this way.” He took her small fingers gently as she led him through the village. He didn’t shy away from the stares of the others, but he was very conscious of them. He wore nothing but his loincloth, while those around him wore far more coverings, like Eden. He now regretted not asking Bwanbale to explain more about this world to him. He had much to learn if he was to find his mate and win her back.

Dembe brought him to a dwelling and called out in Swahili, “Mother, come! Look what I found!”

A beautiful woman in a blue sundress emerged from the home and gasped when she saw Thorne.

“Dembe! Who is this?” The woman gestured for Dembe to release his hand and come toward her.

“Father’s jungle man!” Dembe announced proudly and shot Thorne a grin.

“This is Bwanbale’s friend?” The woman met Thorne’s steady gaze. “You are the man from the forest?”

Thorne bowed his head respectfully as he realized he was in the presence of Bwanbale’s mate and offspring.

“Would you like to come in?” the woman asked him. Thorne nodded and followed her into the dwelling. It was so solid, so smooth, so colorful.

“Bwanbale is not here, but he will be soon. He took Eden to Kampala this morning.”

The mention of his mate diverted Thorne’s focus from examining this human dwelling.

“Eden is safe?”

“Yes, she’s safe.” The woman smiled a little nervously. “My name is Afiya, and this is Dembe.” She placed protective hands on the child’s shoulders.

“I am Thorne ... Haywood.” It was the first time he’d claimed that name, but it felt right to do so now. He did not wish to deny the parents who had died protecting him. Even though he could not fully remember them or their world, he was feeling more and more bound to it.

“Would you care to sit?” Afiya gestured to the two funny looking objects. Dembe rushed toward one of them and sat down.

“This is a chair!” Dembe said.

Chair. Yes, he knew that word, and others that came to him as he looked around the room:table,kitchen,stove, and so many others.

“Where are your clothes?” Dembe asked him with an innocent seriousness that made Thorne want to smile.

“Clothes?”

Dembe flared her small hands over her animal skin. “Clothes.” It was dark blue and green. “This is my dress.”

Dress. The word brought back flashes of his mother in a long gold dress, twirling around in a room. His father had held her close, whispering and smiling before his mother had noticed him watching. She’d held out a hand, and he’d run to them. The memory faded.

“I have only this.” He waved to the deerskin loincloth.

“Thorne, would you like to try some of Bwanbale’s clothes?” Afiya asked. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”

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