CHAPTER 54: NOT ONE OF US

"I wish I could," Albert said with a sigh, gently ruffling the girls' hair, "but you've never been this stubborn before."

His voice was tender, but resolute. He looked down at his granddaughters, whose eyes still pleaded with him, and then glanced toward the forest they had left behind.

"By now, some wild beast or mutant dinosaur must have eaten him. There's no point going back," he added, the finality in his tone unmistakable. "Besides, we're very close to the tribe now."

John stood beside them, quiet. He looked around at the dense jungle encircling them, and though his face mirrored reluctant agreement, a flicker of relief passed through him. He was secretly glad they weren't turning back.

It wasn't because he didn't care.

It was because he knew the Velociraptor wasn't dead.

Deep within himself, he could still sense it. Nestled inside his neuro core, the creature pulsed with slow but steady life. Wounds knitting, energy restoring. It was healing. And safe.

He masked his thoughts behind a composed expression and forced a small nod.

"By the way, Granpa, you said we're close," John said after a while, eyes scanning the thick wall of trees that still stretched endlessly in every direction, "but I don't see anything."

Albert's face broke into a knowing smile, a mischievous glint shining in his eyes. "Yes, I know," he replied. "But if you look a bit down..."

John's brow furrowed. He obediently looked down—but all he saw were tangled roots, fallen leaves, and dense undergrowth beneath his feet.

"Uh... what am I looking at?" he asked uncertainly.

"Ah!" Albert chuckled, shaking his head. "Such a dumb kid."

Laughter burst out from the children around them, their giggles ringing through the trees like wind chimes. Even Lucy and Lacey, who had moments earlier looked ready to cry, now joined in the merriment. John's cheeks flushed with confusion and slight embarrassment.

"I meant," the old man said between chuckles, "walk a bit further ahead and then look."

The laughter slowly faded, and John, still blushing slightly, gave a sheepish nod. He stepped forward, pushing through a few low-hanging branches, and soon felt the terrain shift. The ground beneath him began to slope downward, gradually at first, then more steeply.

He crested the ridge—and stopped in his tracks.

His breath caught.

Laid out before him in a valley cradled by the dense forest canopy was a sight both unexpected and breathtaking: a brightly lit village-like tribe, alive with energy.

Soft golden torches lined the paths, casting warm halos of light on the ground. Shadows danced along the huts and longhouses built from stone, wood, and leaves, their designs ancient yet remarkably intricate. People moved about with purpose—some carrying baskets, others hauling supplies or tending to fires. There was rhythm here, and life. Order, despite the wildness surrounding them.

All around the perimeter stood guards, tall and alert, each one gripping a formidable spear. Their eyes scanned the darkness with sharp vigilance, ever prepared for the threat of mutant dinosaurs or other dangerous beasts that roamed the jungle.

John's eyes widened, his heart pounding with wonder. "This is your tribe?" he asked, still staring, unable to look away.

Albert moved up beside him and looked out over the village, his expression calm but proud. "Looks like you've never seen a tribe before," he observed, turning slightly to glance at John.

There was a pause.

Albert's gaze lingered. He didn't say more at first, just studied the boy standing beside him—the confusion in his eyes, the curiosity in his stance, the air of quiet strength beneath his calm exterior.

Finally, the old man said softly, "Your clothes, your nature... everything about you feels different from others."

John looked back at him, surprised by the statement.

"It doesn't seem like you belong to this world," Albert added, his voice low and thoughtful, almost as if speaking to himself.

The wind passed between them, rustling the treetops and carrying with it the sounds of the tribe below. John didn't answer. He wasn't sure what to say.

Because deep down, maybe the old man was right.