With a rough yawn, Zen stirred up from his sleep nudging Scarlett from her nap. She sat up pulling the hem of his T-shirt.

Scarlett traced the purple-pinkish spots on her legs, triggering pain all around her body. Those spots of blood lumps reminded her of the treacherous week that dived into her life.

"Time to discover a way back home, Zen?"

"Ahh. I wonder if any ships connect this island to the outer world!" After a short pause, he added, "not too many days we will get the luxury of staying on this island, this I'm sure of!"

The cries of the cattle filled the silence in the room.

"Scar, have you ever seen a live death?"

"Huh?" She blinked at him, "are you sure that's the question you intended to ask?"

"Why? I am not drunk" he heaved his eyebrows affirming it.

"Tell me if this is a live death: you see blood drained fingers move under hefty concrete blocks. As you are watching it, the fingers ultimately stop moving, the nails come in contact with the wreckage." She was huffing heavily as the cold memories took hold of her.

"Yes, certainly. Live and incredibly painful."

"My turn, mister. Ever had the pleasure of watching a live birth?" She set her eyes on a peach hand fan plunged in blue buds, lurking at the far end of the room.

He was alarmed at the question thrown at him. A question he never gave a thought about.

"No" was all he managed to say.

"You should. It is live and incredibly painful and euphoric!"

"Of course! Way better than live death."

"Nah! It is subjective and complicated!" After a break, she added, "It's gruelling hot! Pass that hand fan."

Minutes later, they heard a knock on the door. A slender man, whose rib cage peered out from his translucent skin, handed them a piece of paper.

It was an invitation to join Opeul for the lunch, written by Opeul himself. He had asked them both to follow the young man to his home.

Zen didn't like the idea of it, "Scar! What if they feed us cow's eyes?!"

"We savour it! We didn't come here to get executed on the charges against not having their food!"
He wore a face of disgust.

"I think I will go barefoot! Look at these poor people, they never wear sandals. Now, I shall too!" Zen said.

"Yes, you shall when the sun stops burning!" She knew to mock him.

"Watch me," he said as they closed the door behind.

A few long steps were enough for the boiling gravel to transfer its heat into his naked feet, making him wince with pain. "The heat is biting me!" He yelled back as he leapt back to fetch his shoes.

They reached Opeul's house. It was an ordinary hut perhaps a little bigger. Opeul, along with four others, were already seated on the floor.

"You are late!" Opeul stated with a griminess.

"Sorry! We didn't intend to." She apologized sending death stares at Zen.

They stooped down onto the heated stone floor. A wooden plate was served with conch stew, fresh-cut lamb seared for long hours and a raw fish dipped in black sauce.
'A fine meal after many days'. They devoured till the last crumb.
All together the meal was great until they sipped the drink that was served in a bamboo glass.

"The drink Is disgusting! It has something filthy." Thank God Zen was sitting at the very corner of the room.

"Agree! Ask the ingredients." She mumbled.

At first, he was hesitant but then he said, "this drink is delightful, may we know the ingredients?" His facial expression made sure it sounded non-sarcastic.

"Ah! Did you like it? It's an iconic drink of the islands head cook. Fermented mice, garnished with the right amount of citrus! It is called the 'Mouse Wine'.

They instantly placed the glass down. They choked on their food. Her stomach churned signalling to puke.

"Regret asking it!" She wanted to rinse her mouth with gallons of water although hardly a sip of Mouse wine was taken, unlike Zen who gulped a mouthful of it!

The lunch was done, a banquet according to them.

"You might be wondering how a dumb man like me knows English." Opeul started a conversation.

"Yes, we are," Zen said very distasteful way. It was either because of the Mouse wine or his apathy in knowing the history of anything.  He opines,' history expired long ago and knowing it only makes us anxious. History must be discovered by ourselves and hearing it from an old monk is dry', which Scarlett always disagreed with.

"Not the dumb part though" Scarlett interrupted.

"I studied at West Hill university. A place miles away from here. A place where you shake hands or hug a sweaty body on meeting someone. But my roots belonged to this island.
At the right time, I knew my obligations. 10 years back I abandoned everything to save this valuable land."

"So this island was under foreign rule?"

"Yes you smart lady, we were colonised by the people living on the land. The land you've come from."

"But how do you know that's the same place we are coming from?"

"Because Dlayok is the only place you can get to this island. That's how the boat system works."

'Dlayok' Scarlett made a mental note of the place they were held hostages in perhaps where Odlin is.

Opeul continued, "just because poverty rippled in our blood we were captured by the rich rulers. I was the commander of those days." He rubbed the scars on his face and added, "hundreds martyred, my family were one among them. Do you recall that huge statue in the heart of the city of Dlayok? It is the sweat and labour of our men that raised the statue of that cruel dictator. They sipped our wine, made merry on our corpse. Do you see? We are humans made of the brain and feelings, not wild beasts."

Scarlett and Zen saw Opeul become vulnerable. The reason for the wild entry on stepping on the island became a bit more obvious.

"Trar will give you more details I suppose. He is more fluent speaking your language." Saying this he turned to a chubby man sitting next to a graceful lady. "Will you, Trar?"

"Uh-" he seemed to dread answering Opeul. "I got uh..got to feed my dogs!"

"Ahh! Okay, you can go. He is a busy man." Opeul said.

'What a lame excuse' Zen thought.

Rest of the time they walked by the seashore, watching the sun mingle with the raw waters. They let their liberty go wild, walking in the streets for a while and drinking mysterious coconut water. On their expedition, some men and women showed their indigenous tricks with fire. Throwing the flames like it was volleyball accelerated a thrill in their hearts.
As the stars paraded the sky, their inner self found comfort in this island. They saw joy through a lens called poverty.

Zen crouched near the tulip gardens watching the tulips blossom under the glittering moonlight. Scarlett sauntered through the garden, stroking the petals. Her figure stood out among the crimson blossoms, showing the universe she was one of a kind. Zen saw snippets of him hooked onto the beautiful human standing in front of him.

"Scar!"

"Hm?"

"I am lost."

"Who's not?"

"Scar, I'm lost!!" This time it came out intensely.

"Zen! I am here! Stop hooting please, where are you lost?"

"I'm lost in-" his thread of words were cut off by a mushy sound of a man walking towards them.

They jerked their body like alert hounds.

The islander passed them, smoke from his cigar clouding him.

Suddenly Zen yelled at the man walking away, "Trar!"

The man flipped his body to face Zen. He rubbed his eyes to sway the smoke away. He scanned Zen with mild curiosity.

"Hello!" He was frigid, adamant at his posture.

"What's the name of this island dude?"

"I've no idea." He replied glaring at the tulips now.

"That's your house, huh?"

"Yes." Trar spotted Scarlett in the darkness.

"Can we come in? Maybe play with your dog!"

♥✨♥
A/N: entry of a mystery man!
How was the chapter??