09 Mount Aboyo Erupts

Years rolled by like the tides, carrying with them the echoes of old memories.

Joose, once the frightened boy hidden in a crate of oranges, had grown tall and resilient under the watchful eye of Lemuel, Irukandji’s steadfast chief of police. Their home stood beneath the looming shadow of Mount Aboyo, the great mountain that towered above the town like a silent sentinel.

Despite the peace he had found in Irukandji, Joose's heart was never truly still. It beat with a quiet longing—for the forest, for the wolves who had raised him, and for the brother from whom he had been torn. Though he had built a life in the port town, part of him remained lost in the wilderness of memory.

Far away, in the bustling city of Bauer, Bigger Two-Paws had grown into a man of courage. Known now as Dazler, he had followed in the footsteps of their late parents and trained as a firefighter, risking his life to protect others, just as they had once done.

Though he lived among skyscrapers and concrete streets, the forest remained in his blood. Each month, without fail, Dazler returned to the wild. There, among the ancient trees and the wolves who had once been his family, he lifted his voice to the sky and howled for his brother—his song a call that no distance could silence.

One morning, as Joose worked beside Lemuel along the quay, the earth beneath their feet gave a low, ominous groan.

At first, it was subtle—barely more than a tremor—but then it deepened, the ground quaking with urgency. Mount Aboyo, long dormant, began to stir. Smoke rose from its summit. The sky darkened with ash. What had once seemed like a peaceful mountain was now revealed for what it truly was: a volcano.

A deafening explosion tore through the air.

BOOOOM.

The townspeople panicked, their fear spreading faster than the rising smoke. Screams echoed through the streets as families grabbed what little they could carry and ran for the shoreline. Boats were untied and shoved into the surf with shaking hands, as the people of Irukandji fled toward the sea, desperate to escape the mountain’s fury.

But the sea offered no refuge.

As the volcano thundered behind them, the ocean began to churn. The waves rose higher, whipped into a frenzy by the violent tremors. The boats, small and overcrowded, were tossed by the rising tide. Darkness fell—not just from the ash but from the storm brewing across the horizon.

The people of Irukandji had escaped the fire of the earth, only to be caught in the wrath of the sea.

Joose stood among them, his gaze fixed on the horizon, heart pounding not only from fear—but from a knowing. This was no ordinary disaster. This was a turning point. Something deep within him stirred, old and wild. And somewhere far away, in the depths of the forest, Dazler lifted his head and listened to the wind.

Something had begun.