It was the same moon. Unchanging and indifferent. The same light beaming from the black sky. But it didn’t give him comfort anymore. He felt betrayed by it. Deceived and seduced. Lied to by a silent, white circle fixed on the dark background. Its brightness could tell anyone that they were safe. But they were not. He knew it the hard way. But it was still good to have something familiar as he rolled down the stony hill in blood and broken bones. Why? He thought. Why him?

Was it just right if he was dead? The pain and the motionlessness gave him enough time to think, as he lied down the ground drenched in his own blood.

All he could do now was remember. The corpses. The burning tree. The river. The child. The dog. The forest. Yes, the forest, he thought. It was the forest. It wanted him dead. It wanted him to just stop. And he did stop.

The thick, red fluid ran across his forehead and some got into his eyes. It obstructed him from seeing anything at all, as if the faintness from the fall wasn’t enough. He laid there. Motionless. More of his own blood ran through his lips and he had the chance to take some of it in. It was familiar. The taste. He wondered if he had already tasted blood before. In his old life. Did he have an old life? He asked himself.

He listened. The last of his living breaths. It was a shame. He died under the shine of white moonlight. But he couldn’t even see it.

It mocked him for trying to escape. The forest. Maybe it was better, he thought. If he had just stayed in that grassy coffin. If he just hadn’t followed the mango.

But there was a familiar noise around him. It felt invasive. Of his privacy. Of his last few moments. He couldn’t see. But he recognized. The sounds. He heard… himself. He heard… footsteps. Footsteps only another person could make. Boots or shoes crunching the soil beneath them. Rocks casually rolling away with their strafes.

He could feel it. He couldn’t call out, but he could feel it. The air lifted around him. There was movement. They were carrying him. But, he thought, it was already too late. After all, he had already blacked out.

The air felt different, now. It felt like a blanket to him. But it felt one-sided. Only the front part of his body felt a glowing warmth. Behind him was still lonely coldness. It was another familiar thing, he realized. Too familiar. Fire, he thought. But everything, everything in his mind were just after-thoughts now. Unconscious ideas at the back of his head. He was still immovable. Motionless. Signed to his death. Until the stranger kicked him.

“Wake up,” the stranger said. The tug, or hit, below his chest felt a lot more painful than it was supposed to. He winced, but his eyes were still closed. “I said… wake up.” The stranger rolled him over with his foot. Either the kick woke him up, or the sudden absence of the warmth that blanketed him.

His eyes shot up. “Wh-“ he tried to speak, but couldn’t find any words to use. Or any reason to even say anything.

But the stranger, it seemed, already knew all he had to say. The stranger smirked at him. “Bata,” he said. But it was more like a mock. Bata only meant ‘child’. He crouched down beside him. “How was she? How was the forest?”

Just like that, everything came back to him. It was this again. The replay of very recent memories. The mango. The child. The dog. His eyes grew even wider and he grabbed the stranger’s shirt, as his gasps rolled back. He was into confusion again.

The stranger looked at him in the eyes. Cold and heartless. He could sense the confusion from him. But he didn’t care. “Let go,” he said, as he grabbed his arm and threw it back to the ground.

“I remember,” he managed to say. But he was still deep in shock. The stranger nodded at him, then stood back up. “Wait, wait—”

“Get up, boy,” the stranger replied. He made it clear that he wasn’t going to help him up at all. His hands were in his pockets.

His memories, he thought. Maybe he could help with the memories. He sat up, shakingly. “P-Please help me. Please help me,”

“Tsk!” the stranger sucked his teeth, annoyed. He went for his arm and pulled him up. “Oy! Edgar! The kid’s awake!”

He hadn’t noticed. But he traced the eyes of the stranger to where he was looking. He really hadn’t noticed. He was already in a small village.

No one would have guessed. It was just a small circle of wooden buildings beneath the cover of the trees. It rested on a plot of land beside the mountain. And it barely even had fire for the night. It was all just candles or makeshift torches. The residents, even, hardly made any noise except for the occasional scratch their feet made on the soil. It wasn’t surprising, he thought, since there were no more than fifty people in the village.

Heads casually turned to him as his rescuer walked him through the nine-foot kawayan homes. He wasn’t sure, but they seemed as if they already knew him. One girl looked at him the warmest. She greeted him—chased, more like—with a smile and her eyes continued to follow him as he was brought to an almost-claustrophobic hut.

“We’re here,” the stranger said. “Go on.” He nodded towards the inside of the house.

It was dark. And hot. Although it was entirely made out of wood, he couldn’t help but notice how airless it was inside. There were only candles; and other things he couldn’t understand. They were hanged across the walls and the tiny ceiling, but he knew it wasn’t just for decoration. Sitting silently before him, was an old woman. For lack of a better word in his head, a hag.

Besides that, there was just a pot of tea between them. “Drink, you must be thirsty,” the woman began.

He nodded as he lifted the cup to his lips and got his first sip.

“We found you just in time. If we had found you a little later, who knows what would have happened,” the woman continued.

He sighed. The herbs were just what his body was looking for. He looked back at the woman and nodded. The woman never sounded surprised, or interested, but he told him everything that had happened. He felt relieved. It was good to finally have someone to talk to.

“Will I be fine? I feel like dying any moment now,” he asked.

“If you were going to die, you’d already be dead by now, child.”

“Oh.”

“Look at you. You haven’t even seen your own face, have you?”

She was right. He never thought of it. He has never seen his own face. She took a hand-sized mirror from the back of the tiny room and handed it to him. Among all the other things she had, that mirror was the only evidence of modern living.

He stared at himself for almost a minute. He looked at his eyes, and his hair, and his mouth. He checked if he had all his teeth. It was odd. It wasn’t like looking at a stranger. But it wasn’t like looking at someone familiar as well.

“How old do you think you are?” the woman asked.

“Twenty?” he replied.

She nodded, and just groaned in agreement. “Now that you know what you look like, you should also get to know the people here with you.”

He put the mirror down, then went back to his cup of tea.

“I can see you’ve met Agapito,” the old woman said. “Do not be deceived. He is a kind-hearted man. No matter how he tries to scare you.”

He sipped, and nodded back.

“My name is Hilaria. But you will call me Nanay Wang,” she said.

“Thank you, Nanay Wang. If it weren’t for you and the others, I would already be dead.”

“Well, we’re not rescuers, boy. We were actually waiting… for you.”

He paused, putting his tea away from him for a moment. “What? What do you mean?”

She smiled back. “Questions for another time, boy. Let’s focus on the simple ones. Do you have a name?”

“I… don’t.”

“I thought so. Well, I can’t give you a name. We are not the ones who have that privilege. For now, we will call you bata. Little boy.”

“Can I just name myse—”

“No, bata. You cannot. That is not your privilege.”

“Then whose—”

“You will know in time. For now, you must be ready.”

“For what?”

“For the day. We will greet the sun, soon. And you will be the first to meet the light. You are ready to know her now.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Regain your strength, boy.”

It was already dusk when he got out of the hut. The village had a small bluff towering beside it. It was easy for him to clearly see the clouds changing into shades of yellow as the sign of the sun glowed just beneath the horizon.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” It was the girl. The one he saw smiling. He looked back at her, and paused for a moment. Her eyes glinted gracefully against the blazing of the sun. Her peachy skin radiated celestially versus the phosphorescent skies. And her brown hair met the wind dauntlessly. She challenged the sun for his attention. And she was winning.

“My ancestors say the gods made this purposely for us,” the girl continued.

“The gods?” he asked. He looked back at the horizon.

“Mmhmm,” she nodded. “Domakolen, the god of the mountains.”

He stayed silent, distracted as he watched the skyline.

“How are you? You feeling a little better now?” she asked.

“Yes, well, everything still aches. But, they say I’ll be fine,” he replied.

“From what I’ve heard, you should already be dying from internal bleeding in the head by now. The forest protected you.”

“The forest tried to kill me.”

“No.”

“What was it doing then?”

“Not for me to say. Not the right time.”

“Not the right time,” he smirked. “I’m starting to think everything was planned out from the beginning.”

“Everything that’s happened to you is because of your own choices. You just don’t remember.”

He stayed quiet. He didn’t know what to think anymore. He was just glad to be alive.

“Hey, Nanay said you needed to rest. Do yourself a favor and stop thinking about those things for a moment, okay?”

He nodded. The questions, he slowly realized, didn’t really matter anymore.

“The name’s Maria, by the way,” she said.

He looked at her and smiled.

“I know we’re supposed to just call you bata. But it’s hard for me to call someone a child when they look to be around the same age as I do.”

He chuckled, but his eyes were still fixed on the rising sun.

“Just relax, alright? You’re safe now.” Maria walked away. And the silence came back again. But it wasn’t the same silence he felt in the forest anymore. No, he thought, this time, it felt more consoling.

Not the right time. Not his own privilege. Led by his own choices. For a second, he lost track of the beauty of the dusk as he grappled on the questions inside his head, again. It felt very hard to breathe. But he remembered. He was okay, for now. Why did he have to worry? He reassured himself.

He was absent. His thoughts ran towards nothing but the rising sun. The pain turned to warmth as the burning ball in front of him declared its morning light. Dusk had reached dawn.

“Are you ready?” Nanay Wang approached him from behind.

“For the sun? Yes.” He smiled.

“Good. Bind him.”

“What?” he said. His mind rang blank. There it was again. Something familiar growing inside him. He had realized, after everything. It was fear. Everything they had in common, was fear. The forest. The moon. The village. All they had for him was just trauma. He didn’t notice, but two men were behind him already. And they had already bound him with ropes. They grabbed him by the arms and dragged him away from the flaring skyline. “What are you doing? Nanay Wang?”

“We’re just making things easier for you, bata,” the hag replied, as his captors followed her down to a strip of trees.

They had been waiting. Agapito. Maria. Nanay Wang. And the others. They stood assembled, and decided. Weaved dresses and decorated tattoos of the crowd heralded around him. And at the center was an altar. He had already shut his eyes. And he figured he didn’t really care anymore when he realized. They were a tribe. He was the offering.

He winced as they threw him onto the ceremonial table. He watched as the sun rose to perfection. Nanay Wang walked up to him, and now there was only a silhouette in his vision. She raised the knife up in the sky. “The forest and the moon have been unkind to you, my child,” she said. “Now, as you greet the first light, lose your fears and take the next step.” She pressed her knife on his throat. And he tried to speak as one last act of desperation.

“Nanay Wang, please…” he said. But maybe it was just right, he thought. He had realized he wasn’t afraid anymore. Only tired. This would only make things easier, he guessed.

“Shhhh, child.” Her eyes said it all. “Take the next step, my boy.” The knife cut through his neck cleanly, and blood flooded as fast as the darkness took his vision. He was gone, from the sun. Drowning in red and pitch-black nothingness.