Thomas opened his eyes slowly and careful under the bright
sunlight. The sun wasn’t very high in the sky, and so he could only assume it
was early morning. A pink haze surrounded the island; a storm was coming.
Thankfully, Thomas had only to move his fire from outside his shelter to inside
before he could make use of his building. It had taken four days and much
improvisation, but finally the house was complete. He had created two enclosed
spaces and a third with a wall missing, for the fire to sit. The horse, which
he had named Miles, had one room which was now full of hay. Conveniently,
Thomas had found countless bales towards what he now referred to as the back of
the Island.
‘Miles will not be hungry now’, he had figured.
The second room belonged to Thomas. He had created a bed from mud and sand and topped it with soft springy heather; he had found lots behind the area he had chosen to build his house. He had found some wooden planks washed up on the shore and had used some to build the divider between the rooms; should it get colder, he could remove the divider and sleep closer to Miles. He had collected a selection of coconuts that had fallen and gathered them into a corner of his room, along with the rock he had been using to break them open.
Thomas set about extinguishing the fire, using empty coconut shells as makeshift bowls and filling them with seawater. He moved the wood that was still of use to sit under his shelter, so that if the rain did appear during the day the fire had less chance of going out. He tried to light the fire again; no luck. For what felt like at least an hour he attempted the relight his fire.
‘Great’, he muttered, cursing the wet logs.
Thomas gave a long low whistle.
‘Miles!’ he called out.
‘Miles?’
With a clutter of thuds the horse headed towards Thomas, stopping just short of his feet. Miles cocked his head on to one side and whinnied in response.
‘We must find fresh firewood boy’, said Thomas, mounting the clever pony.
‘Do not go too fast! I must keep my eyes open for good wood!’
Miles headed towards the centre of the island, where the trees grew tall and the grass was bright green. Thomas was gripping his mane firmly. Suddenly, Miles skidded to a halt on the sandy path.
‘What it is? What’s the matter?’ Thomas was fretting, wondering whether Miles had hurt himself – there were copious amounts of thorn bushes and plenty of hidden spikes under the sand surface. Miles was alert, his ears twitching backwards and forwards.
‘What can you hear buddy?’
Just at that moment, Thomas heard it too. It was a long, low sort of whining noise. Miles began to inch to the left, treading carefully in the long grass. Peering through the trees, Thomas could make out a shadow, an object in the middle of nowhere. As they approached, he saw that it was moving. Then he saw some ears prick up, and some eyes staring in their direction.
‘Well Miles!’ he exclaimed.
‘It’s a puppy!’
He dismounted and edged towards the frightened bundle of matted fur. Thomas broke apart a coconut he had brought with them, and held half of the shell out like he had done for Miles. The puppy sniffed the air, immediately identifying the coconut milk and began to salivate until Thomas was close enough. The puppy lapped at the makeshift bowl hungrily.
‘I wonder how long you’ve been here’, Thomas said gently.
The puppy allowed Thomas to stroke him as he drank. Thomas began to comb through the fur with his fingers, removing dirt and tugging at knots. A few minutes later, the puppy looked a lot less bedraggled. Thomas began to back away from him, holding out the coconut bowl to try and coax him to walk. The puppy happily obliged and Thomas could see he was not seriously harmed.
‘Come on, come on!’ Thomas called.
Thomas turned and was surprised to realise Miles was no longer anywhere to be seen.
‘Miles! Where have you gotten to?’
The puppy was fussing around Thomas’ ankles by now. He was a small terrier, black with a white patch across his eye, and a white underneath.
‘Let’s go and find that horse’ Thomas said more to himself than to the puppy.
Thomas set off back to the sandy path that he had strayed from.
‘Miles! Miles!’ he shouted as he made his way deeper into the centre of the island.
The sun was much less visible now, as tall trees with leaves the size of rowing boats obstructed it. Thomas continued to yell for his companion with no luck. The puppy seemed content running to and fro, sniffing at the plants and marking his territory. Thomas began to feel weary. He was unaware how long he had been searching for Miles for, but he’s legs were beginning to ache and he was thirsty. He settled himself on one of the many boulders dotted around the island. These giant lumps of rock had made excellent rest points throughout the few days Thomas had been living there. Thomas opened another coconut, and the puppy decided to pause his exploring long enough to share a drink with Thomas. As Thomas tilted his head to take his drink, the puppy became very excitable, jumping up at Thomas, trying to reach the coconut again. All of a sudden, Thomas lost his balance and toppled backwards off of the rock and fell. And fell. And he continued to fall, until he landed with a soft thud on his back.
‘Miles will not be hungry now’, he had figured.
The second room belonged to Thomas. He had created a bed from mud and sand and topped it with soft springy heather; he had found lots behind the area he had chosen to build his house. He had found some wooden planks washed up on the shore and had used some to build the divider between the rooms; should it get colder, he could remove the divider and sleep closer to Miles. He had collected a selection of coconuts that had fallen and gathered them into a corner of his room, along with the rock he had been using to break them open.
Thomas set about extinguishing the fire, using empty coconut shells as makeshift bowls and filling them with seawater. He moved the wood that was still of use to sit under his shelter, so that if the rain did appear during the day the fire had less chance of going out. He tried to light the fire again; no luck. For what felt like at least an hour he attempted the relight his fire.
‘Great’, he muttered, cursing the wet logs.
Thomas gave a long low whistle.
‘Miles!’ he called out.
‘Miles?’
With a clutter of thuds the horse headed towards Thomas, stopping just short of his feet. Miles cocked his head on to one side and whinnied in response.
‘We must find fresh firewood boy’, said Thomas, mounting the clever pony.
‘Do not go too fast! I must keep my eyes open for good wood!’
Miles headed towards the centre of the island, where the trees grew tall and the grass was bright green. Thomas was gripping his mane firmly. Suddenly, Miles skidded to a halt on the sandy path.
‘What it is? What’s the matter?’ Thomas was fretting, wondering whether Miles had hurt himself – there were copious amounts of thorn bushes and plenty of hidden spikes under the sand surface. Miles was alert, his ears twitching backwards and forwards.
‘What can you hear buddy?’
Just at that moment, Thomas heard it too. It was a long, low sort of whining noise. Miles began to inch to the left, treading carefully in the long grass. Peering through the trees, Thomas could make out a shadow, an object in the middle of nowhere. As they approached, he saw that it was moving. Then he saw some ears prick up, and some eyes staring in their direction.
‘Well Miles!’ he exclaimed.
‘It’s a puppy!’
He dismounted and edged towards the frightened bundle of matted fur. Thomas broke apart a coconut he had brought with them, and held half of the shell out like he had done for Miles. The puppy sniffed the air, immediately identifying the coconut milk and began to salivate until Thomas was close enough. The puppy lapped at the makeshift bowl hungrily.
‘I wonder how long you’ve been here’, Thomas said gently.
The puppy allowed Thomas to stroke him as he drank. Thomas began to comb through the fur with his fingers, removing dirt and tugging at knots. A few minutes later, the puppy looked a lot less bedraggled. Thomas began to back away from him, holding out the coconut bowl to try and coax him to walk. The puppy happily obliged and Thomas could see he was not seriously harmed.
‘Come on, come on!’ Thomas called.
Thomas turned and was surprised to realise Miles was no longer anywhere to be seen.
‘Miles! Where have you gotten to?’
The puppy was fussing around Thomas’ ankles by now. He was a small terrier, black with a white patch across his eye, and a white underneath.
‘Let’s go and find that horse’ Thomas said more to himself than to the puppy.
Thomas set off back to the sandy path that he had strayed from.
‘Miles! Miles!’ he shouted as he made his way deeper into the centre of the island.
The sun was much less visible now, as tall trees with leaves the size of rowing boats obstructed it. Thomas continued to yell for his companion with no luck. The puppy seemed content running to and fro, sniffing at the plants and marking his territory. Thomas began to feel weary. He was unaware how long he had been searching for Miles for, but he’s legs were beginning to ache and he was thirsty. He settled himself on one of the many boulders dotted around the island. These giant lumps of rock had made excellent rest points throughout the few days Thomas had been living there. Thomas opened another coconut, and the puppy decided to pause his exploring long enough to share a drink with Thomas. As Thomas tilted his head to take his drink, the puppy became very excitable, jumping up at Thomas, trying to reach the coconut again. All of a sudden, Thomas lost his balance and toppled backwards off of the rock and fell. And fell. And he continued to fall, until he landed with a soft thud on his back.
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