The Spanish, Brazilian Cannibal Aborigines

Shia's head was resting on my shoulder when I woke up. It was finally light, and the forest was once more alive with the sounds of all kinds of animals. I looked up at Shia's face. His eyes were closed, and he was sleeping. I stretched gently, not wanting to wake him. This is nice, I thought. My mind reflected through our night together. I liked the prospect that I had fallen asleep in his arms. How romantic. Well, about as romantic as one lets on. I knew that I'd never let on that I was slowly beginning to like him more and more.

I leaned my head back and sighed contentedly. We had made it through the night without incident. Nothing awkward between us, no stray cannibal aborigines discovering our hiding spot. Yeah, it went well. I looked down and studied Shia's face. I longed to stay there all day with him like that, but I knew deep down that I had to wake him for us to get going.

"Shia, we made it. Come on, get up," I said softly, scratching the back of his neck.

"Whoa, what's going on?" Shia started, launching himself away from me to the far side of the hollow, which wasn't very far.

"We're ok! We made it! No cannibals anywhere!" I said, peering over the edges just to make sure.

"Oh my God, I'm sorry, Jen. I totally forgot where we were," Shia apologized and smiled. He stretched his neck, and I heard it pop and crackle.

"Shall we head to the waterfall?" I asked him.

"Yeah, I wonder where the aborigines are..." Shia mused, smoothing his bedhead.

"What if they're there and waiting for us?" I asked him.

"Well, in that case, I hope they can swim."

Shia let me climb down first. Ten minutes later, we got to the ground and checked ourselves for our meager possessions.

Shia dug the compass out of his back pocket and glanced at it.

"Well, we have to go back the way we came. That should take us ten minutes, and then we head to the waterfall, ok?" Shia said.

"Alright," I nodded and did a 360 to survey our surroundings. Bright and large purple and pink flowers bloomed around us, making the scene incredibly happy.

"Tgalo bien all," a foreign voice shouted. I screamed and grabbed a hold of Shia.

"Tgalo bien all," the voice said again!

"They're Spanish?" Shia said in a bewildered tone. "I can handle this. I know some Spanish," he said confidently. I had no clue that he could speak Spanish. Right then, what mattered was that he could.

"What did he say?" I asked about the invisible voice.

"He said 'hold it' or something like that. Just stay still," Shia whispered to me.

"Hola, nosotros no le...significamos da, nosotros ... so queremos conseguir ... la cascada." Shia said in halting Spanish.

"What did you say?"

"'Hello, we mean you no harm; we just want to get the waterfall.'" Shia said.

There was a long string of fast language and then silence.

" 'We know what you want! We have orders to capture you. Surrender or we will have no choice but to use lethal force.'" Shia said for my benefit.

"Tell them we just want to get to the boat. We don't need to get involved," I whispered to Shia.

"Nosotros so queremos llegar a nuestro barco. Nosotros no necesitamos para molestarle cualquiera." Shia called out to the leaves. I figured he'd said something along what I had said because he didn't translate what he said.

"Rendici!" I knew what this word meant, it meant 'surrender!'. Suddenly, about ten or twelve aborigines dressed in tribal form surround us, pointing long, and sharp-looking spears at us.

Shia put his hands up and motioned for me wordlessly to do so too.

Two rushed forward, vines in hand. They bound Shia and me together by our waists and tied our hands. I would have thought it was funny that we looked like we were participants in a four-two-legged race if it wasn't so scary and serious.

We have pulled along as if we were dogs on a single leash. The aborigines talked between themselves in their fast Spanish.

Wait, Brazil, wouldn't that be the Portuguese language?

"Shia, shouldn't they be Portuguese?" I whispered.

"Good point; maybe there weren't any cannibal Portuguese aborigines to be found?" Shia answered back. The man leading us gave a hard yank on the vine holding us, and Shia and I fell face first into a tree stump, unable to stop.

"Ow," Shia and I said simultaneously. The aborigine grunted and muttered something in his language before pulling us up and leading us onward. I had noticed that he had face paint and multiple, brightly colored feathers atop his head.

It seemed like this awkward, side-stepping process would last forever before we heard the rushing of what had to be the waterfall. The man pulled us into the clearing, and I gasped at the number of aborigines waiting for us. The same river Shia and I had been at the end was now raging over into spray and mist. The green grass was trodden down here as if this was a great spot.

Then, I noticed something odd: two dark blue hang-gliders on the other side of the wall of aborigines.