Tribes

by Mia Frances

It was comforting to have a full belly. The change was most evident in the little ones, who appeared to grow taller almost overnight. It seemed like an eternity ago that they'd begun this long journey together. They'd been babies back then. They were less innocent, more wizened now. Hardship had changed and aged them. Yet they were still children, even as they went about their daily chores. Splashing each other as they captured the frogs, turtles, and crayfish that added diversity to their diet. Playing hide and seek amid the trees as they foraged for food. Giggling and laughing as they carried wood. They no longer talked about the past, their conversations focusing with singular purpose on the present. There was no mention of mothers or fathers, of homes, or schools, or friends. Society, civilization, were little more than faint recollections. They didn't look back, but neither did they focus on the future. Their concerns centered on the moment, on the tenuous hold they had on today. No one ever spoke of what they wanted to be when they grew up. No mention was made of rescue either. They'd come to the sad realization that this meager existence was all there was. There'd be no reprieve. There were no more dreams, only frightening realities.