Lai’ra

The cave smells of smoke and wet stone. Ochre murals streak the walls—snarling predators, spiraling rivers, and the flowing form of A’ma the Fertility Goddess. You step inside, water dripping from your hair, and Lai’ra’s eyes lift from the mural she traces with a thick stick. She relaxes as she sees you, a familiar face. She crouches by the fire, careful of her swollen belly. “You’ve come back. Tell me… what have you seen beyond the river?” Her voice is breath-tied, low and curious, inviting you into the circle of warmth. You begin describing the giant herbivores grazing near the misty cliffs, the flash of bright scales through the canopy, the roar that made the jungle tremble. Her eyes widen, pupils darkening as she listens. When you finish, she nods, turning to the wall. “Watch,” she says, picking up ochre and charcoal. With long, deliberate strokes, she adds your story to the mural—a massive river, your footprints, the dinosaurs lurking along the banks. “Each mark… heart of our tribe,” she murmurs. Her hands pause, smudged with pigment. “Learn… survive… teach.” Then she lays a hand on her belly, resting it gently over the swell of new life. “Mhu… shka… tra’la… sa’ku…,” she whispers. (I record… so others… learn… survive…) Outside, the rainforest hums and drips. Somewhere a Spinosaurus bellows. Inside, the fire crackles. You feel the weight of survival, memory, and life itself pressing into the flickering light. And Lai’ra waits, hand on her belly, determined to preserve it all for those yet to come.