The Quests of the Lost Jungle: 11 Quests, #2

Chapter One

Tumi's Adventure

Tumi had a huge smile on his face as he ran into the jungle alone. He was setting off on his Usimaro, which means moon run in his tribe’s language. The Maitsuba tribe, to which Tumi belonged, sent boys out into the jungle on their own as a first step to becoming grown members of the tribe. Most of the children were scared when the time came to head out into the jungle alone, but not Tumi. He knew this jungle top to bottom. Or so he thought.…

Tumi would be gone from home for one night for each year since his birth, eleven nights in total. To succeed, he had to spend the whole time without anyone from his tribe seeing him. He had been running for five minutes, and already he was totally confident that he would succeed.

In the United States of America, children would take a whole backpack of stuff to a sleepover at a friend’s house. Tumi had only heard of the USA once, and he didn’t have a backpack. The extent of his stuff was a small knife made from a chiseled stone, a bow and two arrows. His only clothing was a loincloth, something like a small bathing suit. That suited Tumi just fine. He could feel the jungle with all of his senses as he rapidly made his way along the trail away from the Maitsuba’s current settlement.

The Maitsubas live deep in the Amazon rainforest, far from any city. They have no televisions or electricity, and cell phones can’t get a signal anywhere near their simple village.

Tumi had heard tales of boys who had never returned from their Usimaros. Travelers who reached their village would tell them of the huge buildings and fast-moving cars in the city. Some boys used the Usimaro as a chance to join modern life.

Not Tumi. The air was thick with moisture, but clean, refreshing and without a hint of the pollution cloud that hangs over big cities. A million different kinds of plants and animals surrounded Tumi in the jungle, but a city was just concrete and people. The boy was quite happy where he was.

Reaching the end of the trail, Tumi quickly started heading west. It was slower going off the trail, because of the narrow gaps between the trees. Tumi was a thin, four-and-a-half foot tall boy and he could zip between plants almost as quickly as a cat.

He stopped suddenly and looked at the ground. There were paw prints. An animal’s scent was still fresh in the air. Tumi grabbed the trunk of a nearby tree and started climbing up, up, up until he was sitting on a branch twenty feet off the ground. Seconds after he sat down on the branch, a black jaguar came loping along the jungle floor, just where Tumi had been. It was a beautiful animal and Tumi’s face brightened to see it. He was not afraid. The jungle had told him that the big cat was coming.

The sun was getting low in the sky and the shadows were growing longer. When night fell, Tumi would not be able to see the black jaguar even if it were only two feet away. So, he stayed in the tree. He walked along the branch, using vines to help steady himself. Using another vine for support, he reached over to the next tree, a coconut tree. He pulled off a nice, ripe coconut and walked back to his comfortable perch near the trunk of his tree. Tumi had plenty of practice opening coconuts with his simple knife and soon had a tasty treat before bed.

Tumi was nearly invisible in the fading light of twilight. His dark brown skin and black hair allowed him to blend in well with the tree trunk.

After he finished eating, Tumi reached up and tied a vine around his hand. That was a trick he used to keep himself from tumbling out of a tree while he slept in it. He had never fallen from a tree before, and he wasn’t about to start now. He leaned up against the trunk of the tree and stretched his legs out on the branch, grinning as he imagined the fun adventures he would have during his Usimaro. Soon, he was dreaming of playing games with the animals as he made his way through the jungle.

Tumi’s eyes popped open. It was dark, with moonlight streaming through the few gaps between the leaves. There were eyes looking back at him, just a few inches from his face. In his sleepy state, Tumi thought the face looked like it belonged to a small, old man about half his height. As his eyes adjusted to the light, he noticed that the man had taken his bow.

He looked again at the face and realized that he was looking at a monkey sitting in his lap and holding his bow, one of the few items he needed for this adventure.

Hey! Give that back! Tumi exclaimed in his tribe’s language. He made a grab for the bow, but the monkey was just out of reach. He unwrapped the vine from his arm and inched forward on the branch. The monkey inched backward, eyes fixed on Tumi.

The boy made a quick and sudden grab for the monkey, who turned around, dropped the bow to the ground and leapt to the nearby coconut tree. The monkey made an angry squawk at Tumi, grabbed a coconut and tossed it, narrowly missing Tumi’s head.

With a last, irritated glance at the monkey, Tumi returned to the trunk and slowly shimmied down. He paused a few feet from the ground, smelling and listening. Sensing that the jungle floor was free of predators, at least for now, he dropped the remaining few feet. Within seconds, he had the bow back in hand and was making his way back up the tree.

Tumi tied his hand and his bow to the vine and settled back down to sleep once more. Aside from a few dreams of monkeys taking his things one by one, he slept peacefully and woke with a smile when the sunlight streamed into the trees once more.

Tumi was preparing to head back to the jungle floor when he heard the snap of a twig and saw one of the hunters of his tribe making his way through the forest. Tumi froze and remained absolutely silent, worried that he would be spotted and his Usimaro declared a failure. But the hunter did not spot little Tumi, intent as he was on a set of tracks on the ground.

When the hunter was out of sight, Tumi made his way down the tree and quietly picked his way through the jungle, heading away from the direction that his tribemate was going. He was determined to put as much distance as he could between his tribe and himself. He contented himself to just eating the plants he could quickly pluck on the way. His first hunt would wait for the next day.

For the next several hours, Tumi switched between walking and running, but always moving as fast as he could. He stopped for a swim as he crossed a river at one of its shallower points, where he could clearly see the bottom. The rivers that split off from the Amazon were home to a huge variety of animals, many of which Tumi had no desire to meet.

The boy’s spirits soared as he walked away from the river. He had never seen this part of the jungle before, and he was sure that no one from his tribe would be walking there. Tumi’s smile drooped a little as he looked around and realized that the plants seemed different. They looked similar to the plants at home, but everything just seemed a bit off. It felt as if he had stumbled upon a six legged tiger.

He shrugged off his unease, and scouted around for some food. The sky was turning pink and night was approaching. Soon, with a meal of nuts and fruit in hand, he climbed into the safety of a nearby tree. He enjoyed his mango immensely. It was sweeter than any he had ever had before.

The sky dimmed and Tumi could see the stars appearing through the gaps in the foliage above. Looking down, he could see the ground clearly, thanks to the flickering light coming from a few of the ferns growing in this part of the jungle.

Tumi rubbed his eyes and looked back at the ferns. The leaves of the ferns, which had been green during the day, were now orange, flickering flames.

Chapter Two

The Fay

Thinking of the danger of being up in a tree while the plants below were on fire, Tumi slid down the trunk of the tree, nearly as fast as a fireman would slide down the old firehouse poles. The air on the ground was warm, but not as hot as he expected it to be so near a fire. The fire wasn’t spreading from the ferns.

More curious than afraid, Tumi walked right up to a fern and took a good look. The leaves of the fern weren’t on fire, they were fire. Each leaf was like the flickering flame of a candle. The overall effect was beautiful, and Tumi thanked the gods of his tribe, convinced that this was a good omen for his Usimaro. He felt certain that this would be the most amazing thing he saw, but he was wrong.

He climbed back up the tree and got back into position to sleep. He took another look down at the glowing jungle floor and held the image in his mind so that he may see it in his dreams.

Tumi’s eyes popped open. For a moment, he thought that the flaming ferns had been a dream, but then he saw the moonlight streaming down from above and the golden glow coming up from below. Looking straight ahead, he saw the eyes of an old man staring back at him, and the old man was holding his bow.

Tumi shouted, Hey! Give that back! He was sure that this had to be a dream, because how else could the same thing happen two nights in a row?

The old man’s eyebrows shot up in alarm at Tumi’s sudden outburst.

Okay, okay! No need to yell, the man said, flying closer to hand Tumi his bow. I was just looking at it. I haven’t seen a bow quite like it.

Tumi jumped and nearly fell out of the tree.

This was no monkey! It really was a small, old man. His hair was long, white and thinning. He wore a brown shirt and pants, with a small brown pouch dangling from his brown rope belt. His wings were green, like the leaves of the trees and they fluttered quickly as the man hovered in place.

Don’t be alarmed, said the man. Come to think of it, it’s been many, many years since I’ve alarmed anyone.

Tumi felt certain that the man must be a jungle spirit of some sort, but he couldn’t think of a single story that told of a spirit that looked quite like this.

Are you a good shot with your bow? the man asked.

Yes, I’m one of the best in my tribe, Tumi said without a hint of bragging in his voice. He felt a little nervous around this strange, flying man, but his curiosity kept him from sliding down the tree and running away. Who are you? How do you know the language of my people?

Me? I’m no one special. Just one of the jungle fay. Some would call us fairies. Among the fay, I am known as Glider.

How is it that you speak Pano?

"Pano? I don’t speak Pano. The magical beings learned how to talk to one another a long time ago. It turns out to be very easy magic, since people already tend to hear what they want to hear. We all do it without even thinking. It makes things a lot more peaceful. Most of the time, at least."

Tumi considered this for a moment. There are more magical creatures?

Of course! The jungle is full of Elder Folk, as we like to call ourselves. There are all kinds. But, we stick to certain parts of the jungle and make it … inconvenient for others to find their way into our lands as you have.

Tumi looked at the ferns, still blazing away down below. And there are magical plants, too?

Oh yes, many.

Are they dangerous?

Glider followed Tumi’s gaze to the ferns. The Fiery Ferns? Not at all. They’re actually quite helpful for getting around at night. Some, like The Trees That Watch, help the Elder Folk but can be dangerous for people who want to cause us harm.

Glider grimaced. Still others, like the Hiding Cactus are just plain mean. He rubbed his arm. Just last week, one snuck up on me and stung my arm! Oh well. I’m sure even they have their place in this world.

Tumi had spent much of his eleven years learning about the plants and animals of the jungle. He knew what was safe and how to avoid the things that weren’t. He hadn’t been concerned at all about his Usimaro, but now it seemed that he was no longer in his jungle. His Usimaro had taken him someplace else.

What is this place called? Tumi asked.

We call it the Lost Jungle.

The Lost Jungle sounded a little scary to Tumi, who had lived in the not lost Amazon jungle all his life. On the other hand, he thought, being ‘lost’ is a great way to avoid being seen by my tribesman. His face brightened further, as the sky lightened with the dawn. His Usimaro would be one for the storytellers.

Chapter Three

The Lost Jungle

With the rising of the sun, the leaves of the Fiery Ferns darkened and finally turned solid green, each leaf releasing a final wisp of smoke to welcome the day. Glider was sitting on the branch with Tumi, resting his wings.

On this morning, Tumi had no need to start running right away. He was certain that no one from his tribe had ever seen the Lost Jungle before. Having Glider with him was comforting, because the old fay would be able to teach Tumi all he needed to know to live comfortably in the Lost Jungle until it was time to return to his own jungle.

I’m hungry, Tumi said. He climbed down the tree and looked around at the plants in the vicinity.

Glider flew down to a small bush from which several squarish, light brown pods were dangling. He pulled off one of the pods and flew back to stand next to Tumi. Glider was stooped with age and only came up to the boy’s knees.

Here, try this, Glider said, handing the pod to Tumi. It’s called mealfruit. From what I’ve heard, there’s nothing quite like it outside the Lost Jungle.

Tumi took the mealfruit and looked it over skeptically. It certainly looked unlike any fruit he had seen before. The outside was soft and slightly porous. The smell was pleasant enough, and slightly sweet. He