Burwood, British Columbia, Canada, September 2010

The giant redwood stood majestically before him. The evergreens and other redwoods paled in comparison next to one of the oldest redwoods in the forest. This was his sanctuary, a sanctuary he named Grot—fer lot, which, in the language of a people he would never meet, simply meant cavern. His father, Nathen, had his own sanctuary in a cavern chiseled deep inside a mountain that rose high above Burwood. However, that wasn’t for Joshawa. He wanted nothing to do with his father and his safe places. Naming his sanctuary in the language of his people was Joshawa’s way of tormenting his father. 

Joshawa smiled as he gazed up at the substantial canopy of Grot. The branches of the tree swayed gently in the wind as if they were welcoming him. It was fall, and the leaves on the trees had changed their colors from greens to vibrant reds, oranges, and yellows. Grot was located north of his home and further up the mountain range. The air was much cooler here, but Joshawa took no notice. He had purposely left his jacket at home, confident in the knowledge that the arduous trek to Grot would keep him warm, and to be honest, he welcomed the cool air.

Joshawa’s tree stood over two hundred and fifty feet high, and its girth at the base was at least twenty feet. The thick bark that encompassed his tree was scarred with long claw marks. At first glance, you would think they were made by a grizzly marking his territory. But as you looked closer, you would find that the marks continued up the tree as far as you could see, too tall for even the largest of the grizzlies that made these mountains their home. Joshawa knew what caused these marks, and as he held his hands in front of him, all he could think of was that he was his father’s son. Joshawa had wished many times that he would’ve inherited his mother’s traits and that he would appear normal. He had her dark hair that fell in gentle waves to his shoulders and her deep brown eyes, but the rest of him was all Nathen. 

* * * *

Amy had been hiding behind a redwood tree for what seemed like hours. The tree's girth was not as wide as the stranger’s tree, but still wide enough to conceal her. She was sitting on the ground, her back resting against her tree. She’d wrapped her arms around her bare legs and pulled them tight against her chest in an attempt to ward off the morning chill. She rested the right side of her head on her knees, which caused her long hair to fall across her face. That annoyed her, and with her right hand, she tucked her hair behind her ear, hoping that it would stay in place. 

Amy closed her eyes and listened, patiently waiting for her stranger to arrive. She knew that he would come as he did most every morning, and she was prepared to suffer the chilled air for a chance to see him. Her reasoning was simple. Amy didn’t understand what he was, and something deep inside her told her she needed to know. Her curiosity brought her to this place every morning. 

As she waited for him to appear, she would always ask herself—is he like me, or is he more like the animals that roam these woods? Amy had barely pondered her question for a moment when she heard a noise coming from the direction of his tree. 

She sat up straight, and her back pressed firmly against her tree with her knees still bent toward her chest. Then ever so carefully, she peered around her tree.

He stood at the base of his tree, staring up into the branches. From Amy’s vantage point, she could see him clearly. He appeared so much taller than she was. His body was very muscular, with biceps and thighs that were more developed than any other animal she’d ever seen. He wore a white shirt that was completely open, revealing his broad chest and narrow waist. Amy marveled at the muscles on his stomach that were incredibly pronounced. She sat back against her tree and lifted her shirt to reveal her stomach, which was flat and smooth. Amy lowered her shirt and peered back around the tree. 

She continued to watch the stranger that had crept into her dreams and into almost all her thoughts. His shirt sleeves were missing, and the pants he wore were so tight that she wondered if he could actually get them off. That was where the similarities to her ended. 

The rest of his appearance caused her to question his lineage. His face was slightly longer than hers, his cheekbones were more prominent, the bridge of his nose was wide, and there was a cleft in the middle of his upper lip. His hands were covered in a fine layer of hair, his fingernails were long, and after what she had witnessed so many times, she could only guess that they were very strong. 

Amy sat as quiet as a mouse as she watched and wondered. 

* * * *

Joshawa scanned the woods that surrounded him. He wondered if Africa was as beautiful as his woods and if it smelled as clean and crisp. He thought of the animals that roamed the jungle, and he was jealous that those animals could call Africa their home. He knew that he appeared very much like the majestic lion, just like his father, just like the people that lived in the village that his mother and father left behind. It was a decision his father had made, and it was a decision that Joshawa would never forgive him for. 

Joshawa gave his head a shake, then using his claw-like fingernails, he scaled the tree to the very top.