Bimba was now running without any thought toward moving quietly. His foot was beginning to loosen up and his pace through the dense brush and thick fog picked up considerably. The mists wove an impenetrable wall of concealment rising inches above his head. It only reached waist high on his pursuers so he got an occasional glimpse of their whereabouts in addition to his sensing them. He could hear the chopping of the machetes to the either side and behind, as the men battled the bush to outflank him. Bimba moved beneath most of the entangling lianas and other creeping vines. His broad body moved like that of a dancer through the forest, the forest-sense allowing him the path of least resistance. He turned away from the direction …show more content…
The rain was already rinsing his T-shirt plastered to his body. He had to get back and tell the elders about the Slavers and their captives. Though the war had ended months ago, the violence had not. While the strange Ghost men wore no uniforms, it was clear to him what they were. He climbed his way back up from the gully that was now a swift moving stream, grabbing vines and pulling himself up the slick sides of the ravine. His upper body strength helped hold onto the slippery plants as he dragged himself up through the ferns. Standing at the top of the small hill, he closed his eyes to gain a more complete sense of the forest. The men were gone, moved beyond the perimeter of his ancestral forest home. He quickly figured out the direction the village lay in and began to walk toward home. His march was smooth, despite his disability, as he made his way to the inner sanctum of the Desolate Forest. He thanked Komba, the God of the forest, for keeping him safe. As Bimba entered the village, he saw his uncle Teleabo, his late father's older brother. He appeared to be drunk already this morning, although he could have just been feeling the effects from the previous night. He noticed Bimba but did not acknowledge …show more content…
The shelters were ideal when they were on the move since it was quick work to erect and dismantled them. Branches, bent to form a dome and lashed together with vines, the broad flat Phrynium leaves gathered from the surrounding forest layered carefully to make them mostly watertight. There is no such thing as a dry mongulu in the rainforest. Since the Aka have become more apathetic about migrating throughout the forest to hunt and most families now live in these shelters year round. "And where have you been all morning," his Aunt Mada inquired in an accusatory tone? I need you to watch your cousin Parasol while I go into the forest to make some medicine with Komba's blessing." Bimba's gaze went to his baby cousin lying listless on the ground inside the mongulu. She had not been well in many days and he was beginning to worry about her. So many babies her age were sickening and dying these days. "I brought you some fruit from the canary
The Outsiders Sequel When I turned in my essay, my English teacher looked at my work in surprise. He flipped through my 7 pages of writing, and then set it on his desk. He said I could leave for the day, and that he would grade it as soon as he could. It was almost four o’clock, and Darry would kill me if I didn’t come home by four thirty.
The heat, sweltering; a bead of sweat runs from his brow mixing and smearing the dirt and powder residue on his cheek. Gunfire erupts, he looks. Hundreds of Indian braves smash into a thin blue line of cavalry Soldiers. His eyes track left to right--smoke, dust, rugged Earth. The light wind ruffles his unkempt brown hair.
The two hundred miles an hour wind has loosed his chains. He seized hold of his dikes and ran forward until he met the
Finally, he had somewhere cozy to sleep. In the rock ledge shelter, he sleeps on sand in his home. In his old house, he still had somewhere to sleep which was his cozy
After the death of Lavender, he is wracked with guilt because he believes that his preoccupation with his unrequited love for Martha caused the deaths of Ted Lavender and Kiowa, two members of Alpha Company. Cross sits at the bottom of his foxhole and cries for the passing of Lavender and the loss of Martha as his lover (Kaplan 45). He later destroys all the pictures he has of Martha since he felt ashamed for loving her more than his men (O’Brien 7, 9). In conclusion, Tim uses his mental struggles to deal with the scars left behind by the war by channeling his emotions into writing.
As I sit here in the darkness, I feel the cold harsh winter winds and hear the howling of wolves in the distance. My body aches, I am battered and bruised. The Iroquois attacked our village yesterday. They are a savage bunch with the brute strength of heathens. There was so much blood shed, so much pain and violence.
For two hours after he had been left at his lonely post that Saturday night he stood stock-still, leaning against the trunk of a large tree, staring into the darkness in his front and trying to recognize known objects; for he had been posted at the same spot during the day. But all was now different; he saw nothing in detail, but only groups of things, whose shapes, not observed when there was something more of them to observe, were now unfamiliar. They seemed not to have been there before. A landscape that is all trees and undergrowth, moreover, lacks definition, is confused and without accentuated points upon which attention can gain a foothold. Add the gloom of a moonless night, and something more than great natural intelligence and a city education is required to preserve one 's knowledge of direction.
Smitty held back tears, and his lunch. Getting out his handkerchief and tying it above his nose, he stepped further into the swamp. Dirt turned to mud, and mud turned to water. Shoot, he thought, these hiking boots won’t really work. As a result of his naivety, Smitty resorted to walking on the edge of the swamp.
The breeze grew stronger as if annoyed by the intrusion of the men. The men exchanged quick wary glances, but none of them moved. Their digging slowed as Curley appeared out from behind the trees. "
“Grab him!” yelled the master to his overseer. I could hear the crunch of snow under my shoes as I ran through the forest, not wanting to look back. I could hear the overseer behind me. I ran faster, jumping, and dodging the trees that were in front of me.
Surrounding them was dense jungle with thick roots running along the ground, there was more than 30 rivers they had to cross. The mud in many areas was knee deep because of the amount of rain they were getting at that time. “At times we’d cover only a few hundred metres in an hour as we clambered down the slippery slopes or trudged, panting, up the sheer mountains. It’s mentally, as well as physically exhausting stuff. Just staying upright can, at times, take the utmost concentration.
Dusk came, then darkness, and still he pressed on. The ground grew softer under his moccasins; the vegetation grew ranker, denser; insects bit him savagely.(Connell
She observed a small oak tree that she hadn’t noticed before and focused on that. She heard a twig snap and jolted up. She was the only one who came into the forest, or so she thought. She clutched her book and froze, trying to hide from
The rattling of metal armours and cries of anger follow their steps, showing no sign of faltering. Still, they run, wishing that the soldiers would give up their chase. They were tired. Though the family didn't know if it had been a long time since they started running, it was long enough to make them lose hope, and the little girl's legs would
There was no chattering or chirping of birds; no growling of bears and no chuckling of contented otters; instead, the clearing lay desolate and still, as though it never wished to be turned into day. The only occupants were rodents and spiders who had set their home in the dank, forgotten shack. From its base, dead, brown grass reached out, all the way to the edge of the tree-line, unable to survive in the perished, infertile soil that made up the foundations of the house. Bird houses and feeders swung still from the once growing apple trees, in the back garden, consigned to a life of