Stuck in an Island with Twelve Beautiful Women
Chapter 934

Chapter 934: Chapter 934

That night, they slept close together. Jude curled between Grace and Susan, Lucy’s hand resting on his arm, Natalie’s braid pressed gently to his shoulder. The warmth of them soothed him, and the faint sounds of their breaths blended into something grounding. He didn’t dream of watchers that night. He dreamed of apples blooming twice in one season, of voices singing over rivers, of his hands planting trees that bloomed silver instead of green.

Morning came slower. The mist hadn’t receded as fully as usual, and the orchard air remained thick, though not threatening. Jude rose with the light, careful not to disturb anyone. He pulled a shawl over his shoulders and stepped outside, walking barefoot through the soil.

To his surprise, Stella was already there, kneeling near the water trough, her hair unbraided and loose around her shoulders.

"You didn’t sleep?" he asked gently.

She looked up, not startled. "Barely. I... heard a voice last night. I think it was the watcher."

Jude moved closer. "What did it say?"

"Only one word. My name." She touched her chest. "It didn’t speak it like we do. It... pulsed it. Like the heartbeat of mist."

He knelt beside her. "That’s new."

Stella looked him in the eyes. "Do you think they’re reading us? Learning our words?"

"I think they’re trying."

Her mouth quirked, a shy half-smile. "Then we should keep talking. Even when no one’s listening."

He smiled back and reached out to cup her cheek. "You’re part of this more than you know. You always have been."

She leaned in. They kissed once, soft and unhurried, the world hushed around them. When they pulled apart, she rested her forehead to his.

"Will you walk with me to the northern tree line today?" she asked. "I want to plant new herbs where the sun still reaches."

"I will."

By the time they finished morning stew, the mist had risen higher, pressing at the orchard’s border but still keeping its distance. Jude split the family into trios, each going in different directions with offerings and observation tasks. He walked north with Stella and Susan, leaving Emma in charge of the central grove.

At the northern edge, past the riverstones and ferns, Jude spotted another watcher, not close, but visible. Stella held her ribbon stone tightly, eyes scanning the space ahead. Susan carried a small satchel of dried blossoms and ash salts. They moved with care, laying tokens where the soil felt warmer, more alert.

This time, the watcher didn’t wait. It came closer, tracing the circle they placed on the ground with flower petals. It didn’t speak, but its pulsing rhythm was unmistakable. Jude stepped back, heart pounding. Stella lowered her glyph stone to the ground and whispered, "Friend."

There was no reaction at first. Then, light. A sudden surge of brightness along the watcher’s form. It pulsed once... and then again, in two beats.

Susan inhaled. "That’s our call rhythm."

Jude stared at it, a knot of wonder growing in his chest. "They’re copying us."

Back in the orchard that afternoon, word spread quickly. Grace’s eyes gleamed with pride. Scarlet grinned, wrapping her arms around Jude’s waist. "You’re building a language."

"We’re building it," he corrected.

The rest of the day passed in quiet celebration. Layla played a melody on reed pipes they hadn’t heard since the early years, and Natalie set out fire lines in case the watchers grew bolder at night. Everyone contributed, Serena stringing berries, Zoey climbing trees to scout mist trails, Lucy drawing glyphs on bark that would dry into memory tablets.

When dusk fell, Jude gathered them all. The orchard firepit crackled, sending sparks high into the gathering dark. He stood with arms open, voice steady. "Tonight, we name more than ourselves. We name our hope."

Grace stepped beside him, ribbon of moon-thread in her fingers. "We name our bond."

Rose joined, voice quiet but firm. "We speak with breath, with hands, with stone and silence."

As one, the group began to hum. The same melody as before, low and circular, drawn from the orchard’s rhythm. The children joined too, their laughter blending into song. The mist thickened at the border, and watchers came, three this time. More solid than ever. They moved like dancers, swaying to the hum, tendrils brushing low plants, never breaking the border but approaching... listening.

Then, unexpectedly, one of the watchers extended a tendril toward the glyph stones laid at the fire circle. It did not touch, but hovered, pulsing with deliberate rhythm.

One... two... three.

Then it retreated.

Jude stepped forward. He mimicked the rhythm. One... two... three... with three slow claps. The watcher shimmered again. Then repeated the sequence. A call-and-response.

Everyone froze. Then smiles bloomed like firelight. The watcher was echoing back.

That night, Jude sat near the fire while the wives took turns washing up, tending to the children, and slipping into blankets. One by one they returned to him, Grace pressing a kiss to his cheek, Lucy curling beside him with her head on his shoulder, Susan pressing her fingers to his lips. Scarlet, the last, straddled his lap and kissed him with quiet hunger.

"They’re learning us," she whispered against his neck. "But you... you’re still a mystery to me."

He chuckled low. "What part of me’s still mysterious after all these years?"

She smiled against his skin. "The part that never stops loving."

He ran fingers through her dark red hair. "That part is always yours."

They held each other in silence, breathing in time with the forest’s new rhythm.

Later, when they lay tangled together under thick quilts, Jude looked to the orchard’s edge, where watchers still hovered faintly in the dark. He whispered to the night: "We are here. We will stay. We will love. Learn us."

And he swore, somewhere in that silence, the mist pulsed once in answer.

Morning rose with golden heat. Dew dried early. The orchard bustled with energy. Today, Jude would help Emma and Sophie create the first true map of watcher activity, etching it on bark and stretching it across the east wall of the longhouse. Grace led the children in planting tiny glyphs among new fig saplings, while Serena and Zoey prepared new songs, melodies designed to test watcher response to tempo changes.