Murise and a crowd of churned-milk tummy teens strolled to pick the wild berries and sugary treegums. The drifting rainclouds protected them from the skin-baking sun by spreading a cooling blanket over the children’s naked backs. 

Soon, Murise spotted a girl with bushy eyebrows, and adored her pencil-sharp nose. She, upon seeing Murise, flashed her milk-white teeth. Immediately, her sponge-soft hands became sopping wet with sweat. 

The yawning bowl of berries slipped out of her hand. Musuverua stooped over the bowl, sobbing with non-stop hiccups over the ground-littered berries. Murise mopped her tears with the back of his vibrating hands. His legs became weak after stroking her catlike cheeks. Somehow, she stepped on a v-shaped thorn and fell into his waiting arms. Murise’s heart drummed as their fingers tangled towards an umbrella-shaped tree. He used a c-shaped thorn, and mined the white thorn out of her baby-soft heel. First, the sun peered behind the clouds, and then it squinted every time their lips matched. 

One moment, they were playing hide-and-seek between the trees. The next moment, Murise tore a yellowish wildflower and rubbed it on her pillow-size cheeks. She covered her face every time the smiling sun shot out behind the dark clouds. Murise plucked a syrupy treegum, and dripped it over her begging lips. Musuverua on her part placed her Afro-hair on his hairy chest. They had forgotten the names of other children, but could hear their swearwords bickering over the sweetness of berries. “I want to go,” she said, her trembling lips grieving over her thrown tantrums. Deep down, she wanted to cling to him, and sketched, ‘I love you,’ on the sand. 

“You can go!” Murise said, biting his bottom lip. Soon, river-filling tears drowned her red-berried eyes, and they unknotted their wire-meshing arms. Murise smacked a kiss on her forehead, playing down the ear-splitting noise coming from their heartbeats. They spotted a punnet of wild berries, and took turns feeding each other like a mother spoonbill bird. Seeing the orange sun about to drop behind the trees, they filled their bowls with berries. Then she knelt in front of him, with her front apron tucked around her naked buttocks. The red oak lotion dripping from her rounded face had shaped a love sign between her breasts. 

“What are you doing with your half-sister?” Murise’s Papa yelled, removing his buffalo’s skin belt and whipping the two children.