After entrusting Patch to the two older monkeys, Turtle tugged at my sleeve and led me out of the cave again.
I thought we were heading straight home.
Instead, she dragged me deeper into the forest to search for and destroy animal traps.
Turtle had an uncanny talent for spotting where the hunters had laid their snares.
A few ears of corn dangling from a branch, a suspicious patch of ground buried beneath an unusually thick layer of dry leaves, a heavy steel cable fastened around a tree trunk, or young trees scarred by fresh machete cuts—one glance was enough for her to know the place was dangerous.
“There are different traps for different animals,” she explained.
Cable snares tied to trees. Nylon nets. Deadfall traps. Spring traps. Trigger traps…
She would not let me help. Afraid I might carelessly set one off, she made me stand aside while she dismantled them. So I pulled out the bundle of sticky rice wrapped in a dried areca sheath and ate while watching her work.
That day, Turtle agreed to leave only when she was too exhausted to keep searching.
I carried the sticky rice. She carried the sweet potatoes. We ate as we walked, retracing our steps toward the edge of the forest.
Strangely, I wasn’t tired.
The only thing I feared was running into Mr. Bay Thanh and the other hunters.
But after we had walked quite a distance, when the faint footpath began to reappear like a pale line drawn across the green grass, we still hadn’t seen a single soul.
The casuarinas, mahogany trees, and firs continued whispering in the wind, casting cool shadows over the trail. Perhaps it wasn’t a hunting day. Or perhaps they had gone elsewhere to check their traps.
By then, I was certain Turtle had been the one who had sneaked into Mr. Bay Thanh’s house and ruined his pouch of tobacco the other night.
But I didn’t ask.
I only worried.
It wasn’t until we were almost out of the forest that I finally spoke.
“If you keep doing this, they’re going to hate you.”
“I’ll deny it.”
She answered so matter-of-factly that it was as though simply denying everything would make the hunters forget she was the culprit.
Suddenly I remembered what Thuc had told me.
Now I understood why the hunters despised Turtle so much, and why they spread absurd rumors in hopes that Teacher Dien would forbid her from entering the forest.
I walked on, lost in thought.
All my life I had been afraid of forests. Ever since childhood, my mind had been crammed with terrifying stories about them.
Yet now, as I was about to leave it behind, an unexpected feeling rose within me.
Regret.
Wandering beneath the trees with Turtle beside me filled me with a quiet peace I could hardly explain.
It felt wonderfully comforting to stroll through the grass, watching shafts of sunlight drift among the fir branches.
Whenever one bright ribbon of light settled into a clearing, it seemed to set the towering trunks aglow, as though evening had arrived early and someone had begun lighting candles throughout the woods.
Closing my eyes and letting the forest’s mysterious sounds wash over me was another secret joy I had never known before.
I couldn’t tell where those soft, endless hums came from—or what creatures made them—but they wove themselves together like countless delicate threads, wrapping around me in a gentle cocoon.
Had I not opened my eyes every now and then to avoid tripping, I might have drifted asleep beneath that soothing lullaby.
But in the end, I tripped anyway.
While foolishly walking with my eyes closed once again, my foot caught on a broken tree stump. I tumbled down a low, vine-covered slope just as we were nearing the forest’s edge.
Turtle managed to grab my hand.
Only to lose her balance along with me.
We rolled together several times, crushing the wild grass beneath us, and had a clump of wild banana trees not stopped our fall, I had no idea how many more turns we would have taken.
The awkward part came after we finally stopped.
Our bodies bounced once from the impact before settling still, and I realized—with a rush of embarrassment—that I was lying on top of Turtle.
For a brief moment neither of us moved.
Flustered, I planted my hands in the grass to push myself up.
But the instant I looked into her bright eyes—always shining beneath those thick black lashes—a sudden wave of tenderness swept through me.
Before I even knew what I was doing, I leaned down and kissed her.
It was the lightest of kisses.
My lips brushed hers as softly as a breeze skimming the surface of a quiet lake.
When I lifted my head again, I found myself wondering whether I had actually kissed a girl at all.
Yet that feather-light touch was enough to make Turtle’s eyes widen as far as they possibly could…
