Page 67 of Beautifully Wild

In a slow nod, Samuel thanks him and dashes toward the river to find hiswhite tortoise.

He slows to a walk when he reaches the jungle edge and takes the narrow path to the sandy beach. Eden stands and slings her backpack over her shoulder when he comes into view—there’s no running into his arms.

He allows her time to peruse his bare body to assess the red and black beads around his neck, the string of caiman teeth, his trophy. Tonight, his body will be painted again and reapplied the night before the hunt.

Her gaze lowers to his grass skirt.

He speaks before his body reacts. “The chief has granted you permission to stay. Although you’ll be on trial, so I’ll make sure you’re aware of all the rules before I—”

“There was a chance I wasn’t allowed to stay?”

She doesn’t allow him to add he’s going on an exploration in a week. Seeing her reaction, he deems it best not to mention it now.

He nods, answering her question. “I wanted to take the risk. I’m sorry, it was selfish of me. Now you’re here, you need to obey—”

“Obey?” she repeats.

His jaw clenches. “You’re free to change your mind.”

She reaches for his hand, her fingers skimming over his. A tingle pricks his fingertips, and new energy sparks. Yin energy soars up his arms and through his body. She links their fingers, and he savors the warmth.

“I want to do this. Only… here I get somewhat rebellious. I can’t help it. Maybe it’s because you’re dressed like this.” She gives him a cheeky smile.

He holds her gaze. “Everything is black and white. There is no confusion. Please don’t risk being sent away—”

“I won’t,” she promises, stepping closer to him.

Keeping hold of her hand, he leads her along the path he walked moments before, pushing branches away from her face, allowing her to pass. With every step, he leads her closer to the village, to a world where he belongs and the center of his universe. His axis tilted four weeks ago. Samuel hopes Eden’s presence will realign his universe, seal the hole in his heart he never knew existed until the day he first saw her on the beach.

The chief expects her to conform and behave in an acceptable way—eat what they eat, work the fields, cook alongside the women, and dress like them. His gut tightens imagining her in a palm skirt with only beads covering her breasts. Remembering her in a swimsuit in Salvador, he understands the effect she’ll have on the young men and what he must do to protect her.

34

Eden

“WelcometoUlara.”Samuelgrins at me, and we both turn and gaze at the village before me.

The excitement rushing through my body is like aWelcome to Hollywoodmovie set. We’re standing in a clearing where several thatched huts form a circle, and more of the same huts can be seen in the distance. Smoke rises in the air above the grass structures, and I catch the scent of food. It smells good, whatever it is. Until now, I didn’t realize my hunger. With only fruit for dinner and breakfast, I’m craving anything that can be cooked.

Following Samuel, I walk a dirt path at the back of a smaller circle of huts. Between each hut, I get a glimpse of a central fire pit. It’s dry, and no one tends to it. Around us, the jungle squawks, the only applause for my arrival. The further we walk the snake-like path, the more the air steams. The hum of mosquitoes circling above my head never ends. I wipe my hands on my denim shorts before swiping my brow.

Samuel leads me to a long hut with open walls and windows. Here, several fires burn. Some women lean over huge mud pots stirring the contents with a long stick while others squat, grinding or mashing.

The same carbon hair borders their round faces. The color matches their eyes. Slowly, the women uncurl their bodies naked, and take a step back. A soft chatter grows among them. I’m not sure what I expected, but fear wasn’t one. From behind me, the children giggle. “Tamu’ne Akare.”

Samuel says one word I don’t understand, and they laugh back at him.

“At least the children like me,” I say.

“They’re fascinated by your clothes.”

With legs like pogo sticks, they jump in front of me, pointing and laughing.

Samuel makes a noise, and they stop. “They have never seen long white hair.”

“Right.” I drop to my knees to give them a better view. Faded paint covers their dark skin, a combination of Vs and long lines on limbs and chest. Sneaking a glance at the ladies, they’re all watching me with a little more curiosity.

A crack on the ground has them running, although the giggling continues. Samuel drops to his knees beside me. On our left, two older men with similar feathered crowns stand before us.

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