Chapter 61: Family
The rainy season had just passed, yet a lingering trace of dampness still hung in the air.
"Adam! I simply cannot stand these wretched insects anymore!" the blonde woman exclaimed, pointing to the raised welts on her arm where she had been bitten. Clinging tightly to the leather skirt at her mother's waist—looking as if she had been thoroughly frightened—stood a blonde girl who bore a striking resemblance to her. Eve tenderly kissed the crown of the child's head before turning to voice her grievances to the man.
"And you wouldn't believe what I found right next to Ackerman's hammock last night! A snake—as thick as a vine!"
Upon hearing this, the man immediately crouched down in front of his daughter to examine her. After a thorough inspection confirmed that she had come to no harm, he let out a sigh of relief. He then returned to his spot and, utilizing the natural light streaming in from outside, resumed working the animal hide in his hands—striving to make it softer, or at the very least, less stiff and abrasive. As he worked, he spoke:
"Oh, my delicate and capricious wife—wasn't it *you* who felt suffocated by living in a cave? Wasn't it *you* who complained that bedbugs kept crawling into your hair? Is that not precisely why we went to such great lengths to pack up and move out of there?" He rubbed the hide vigorously, beads of sweat raining down from his brow. The man then stripped off the upper portion of his own animal-hide tunic, letting it hang loosely like a skirt to prevent it from becoming soaked through with perspiration. "Later on, I'll board up their windows and scatter some snake-repelling herbs; that way, no more snakes will be able to crawl inside. Just bear with it for now."
"Good God! What a cold, heartless man! Your daughters were nearly bitten to death by a snake, yet here you stand telling me to 'bear with it'! Why can't you find us a more suitable place to live?"
"And what other choice do we have? If it's not bedbugs, it's snakes and ants! Is there anything in this world that is truly perfect?" The man looked at his unreasonable wife and retorted sarcastically, "And even if there were, you would have ruined it! If you hadn't listened to that serpent and brought ruin upon me, wouldn't we be living in bliss in that paradise right now?"
Under divine intervention, they had forgotten the name of the Messiah and everything that had transpired during that rebellion; their memories were limited solely to the fact that they had committed a sin and were subsequently expelled from the Garden of Eden by God.
Eve let out a choked sob—weeping for her own foolishness and gullibility, and also for the fact that Adam brought up this matter time and time again.
"Why must you constantly use this to stab at my heart? Are you entirely without fault yourself?"
Such bickering had become the norm—occurring every few days without fail. Once it began, it would never cease for at least an hour.
"I refuse to argue with you any further!" Adam reined in his temper and spoke to the girl cradled in Eve's arms: "Ackermann, go fetch your two older brothers!"
Ackermann blinked her eyes and replied to Adam, "I'm afraid they are likely still asleep, dear Father."
"How long do they intend to sleep? Can't they see that I'm practically dead on my feet from exhaustion?" he roared in a fit of rage.
"Every single day—it's the same thing! I ought to just kick them all out!"
Ackermann then rose from Eve's embrace and stepped out of the treehouse. Grasping a dangling vine, she gave a gentle swing and landed gracefully inside the treehouse opposite theirs.
The interior of the treehouse was hushed and still, save for the ceaseless chorus of chirping insects and birdsong drifting in from the forest.
Not far away, from another treehouse, a young girl with silver hair stepped out. Her name was Yawan. She was a year younger than Akliman, yet she looked no older than four or five. Frail since birth, her pale face held not a trace of color; compared to Akliman's healthy, rosy complexion, she could hardly be described as pretty.
Their eyes met, and in a flash, Yawan darted back inside the house—running faster than a rabbit.
"..."
Akliman couldn't quite fathom her sister's behavior, though she had long since grown accustomed to Yawan's shyness and simply let her be.
After waiting a moment, Yawan cautiously peeked her head out from the window.
She leaned against the windowsill, watching her older sister crouch low as she slipped into her brothers' treehouse.
Suddenly, a large black bird landed right beside her hand. Yawan was afraid of almost everything—except animals. She gazed at the large bird with curiosity; its shifting, blood-red eyes reflected her own image, making it seem almost as if it possessed human-like intelligence.
Yawan offered a faint smile. She stroked the bird's soft feathers gently, stroke after stroke, as the tension slowly drained from her face.
Akliman stepped inside the house. Sure enough, the boys were still asleep.
The bed in the center of the room—properly draped in furs—lay empty; instead, the boys were sprawled out atop a pile of bamboo near the window. Akliman covered her mouth to stifle her laughter, then stealthily crept toward the one with the pale yellow hair.
Abel had been sleeping soundly, his head resting against the cool bamboo beside him, when he suddenly felt as though he couldn't breathe—as if something were blocking his windpipe. He jolted awake, instantly torn from his comfortable dreams.
Akliman doubled over with laughter as she watched his face turn beet-red from holding his breath. Abel stared blankly at the sister who had roused him; realizing she was the culprit behind the prank, he immediately began to playfully tussle with her.
He was taller than Akliman and possessed greater strength, so he easily overpowered her, lifting her high up into the air.
"Higher! Fly even higher!" Akliman squealed with delight, tightening her grip around Abel's neck. Though still young, she had inherited her mother's beauty; her radiant eyes—sparkling with every glance—betrayed a spirited, audacious air. Abel adored her sunny disposition; obliging her whim, he lifted her even higher and then dashed about the treehouse.
"Keep it down!" The other occupant of the room finally lost his patience and spoke up.
Cain sat up on his bamboo bed, the thin grass-woven blanket sliding down his body. Clapping a hand to his throbbing head, he glared over at them, his morning grumpiness plainly visible in his light-brown eyes.
"Brother..." Abel set Akliman down and scratched his head. Noticing that Cain kept rubbing his arm, he suddenly felt a pang of embarrassment.
"Did I end up sleeping on your arm again?"
He began to massage Cain's arm for him. Cain's body temperature ran lower than his own; sleeping pressed against him during the sweltering summer months felt just like cuddling a piece of cool jade—it was incredibly comfortable.
"If you lean on me one more time while you're sleeping, I'm going to throw you right out of this tree!" Cain grumbled, allowing his brother to rub his shoulders and arms while still sounding thoroughly displeased.
Abel simply pretended not to hear him; after all, his brother was all bark and no bite.
As silence settled over the treehouse, Abel asked Akliman what she had come for.
"Father wants to see you two!" Akliman exclaimed, suddenly remembering the purpose of her visit.
"You naughty girl!" Abel leaped up in alarm, scrambling to tidy himself up. "Why didn't you say so sooner? Father must have been waiting for ages!"
Abel frantically searched for his shoes, while Cain merely glanced outside to check the sky.
It wasn't actually that late.
Father had likely gotten into another argument with Mother and, being in a foul mood, wanted to take his frustrations out on them.
He certainly wasn't going to be a fool like Abel—rushing headlong into a scolding!
And so, while Abel was already swinging across to the adjacent tree using a vine, Cain was just finishing washing his face with cold water. As he finally stepped outside, he even had the presence of mind to offer a greeting to his younger sister—that timid little thing who, much like a sensitive mimosa plant, would shrink away at a mere glance. Yawan, clutching the black bird, hid beneath the windowsill. After a good while—assuming her older brother had gone far away—she cautiously raised her head.
Unexpectedly, a sudden gust of wind swept past her eyes as Cain abruptly leaped out from beside the window.
"Ha!" he shouted loudly, simultaneously making a grotesque face.
The sudden noise startled the black bird in Yawan's arms; it darted swiftly out through a narrow gap, leaving behind only a scattering of disheveled feathers. Cain stared in astonishment at the bird that had burst forth, wondering why a crow would fly out of Yawan's room.
However, he didn't dwell on it for long; instead, he turned his gaze to Yawan and burst into hearty laughter.
Yawan felt as though she might faint. Being timid by nature, the shock Cain had given her left her face drained of all color.
Once she finally managed to compose herself, she looked at her older brother—who was still roaring with laughter over the success of his prank—and felt he had gone too far; unable to hold it back, she began to weep.
She sobbed silently, tears clinging to her eyelashes in glistening drops; she looked at once pitiful and comical.
Cain intended to comfort her, yet seeing her in such a state, he couldn't help but chuckle again.
"Brother Cain!"
Ackerman—who had accompanied Abel to their parents' treehouse—came out to look for Cain when he failed to arrive after a long delay. Upon seeing him teasing their little sister, Ackerman immediately wore a look of disapproval.
"If you don't hurry up, Father is going to get angry!"
"I know."
Cain replied indifferently. He took a few steps toward the exit, then stepped back again to pat the top of Yawan's head, acting the part of a dutiful older brother.
"Don't cry, Yawan. I apologize," he said, though as he spoke, he slyly stuck one of the bird's feathers onto the top of her head.
"I only tease *you* like this, little sister—after all, who could resist when Yawan is just so adorable?"
Hearing him say this, Yawan involuntarily stopped crying. She tilted her head to gaze at her handsome older brother, her eyes seeming to ask: *Is that really true?*
Her dazed expression, paired with that feather perched atop her head, was so utterly absurd that it nearly made Cain choke with laughter. "Yeah! *Pfft—* Hahahaha!"
"Brother! If you bully Avan one more time, I'm going to tell Mother!" Akliman swung over on a vine, shooing Cain away with a mix of pushes and shoves, then indignantly yanked the ridiculous bird feather off the top of Avan's head.
"It's absolutely filthy!" She glared at her younger sister—who was practically burying herself up to her knees in the dirt—with the exasperated frustration of someone watching a hopeless case.
"Oh, Avan, Avan... if only you had half my boldness, you wouldn't always be getting bullied by Brother Cain!" She chattered on, though her attention couldn't help but drift toward the main house.
Inside, Adam looked at his tardy eldest son and spoke with displeasure:
"You're too slow, Cain!"
Cain pretended not to hear. He greeted his mother affectionately with a cheek-to-cheek kiss—a gesture of intimacy—yet treated his father as if he were thin air.
"You insolent, disrespectful wretch!" Adam flew into a rage, but Eve quickly stepped in to restrain him, then turned to her son with a look of helpless persuasion:
"Cain, you must address your father."
Cain bore a striking resemblance to Adam—as if they had been cast from the very same mold—yet their personalities were polar opposites.
Adam held no fondness for his eldest son; the boy's rebellious nature always struck him as eerily familiar—a sensation that, in any case, made him deeply uncomfortable. Consequently, after his second son was born, he naturally came to favor Abel. Once Cain realized his father's favoritism, he made a point of doing the exact opposite of whatever Adam wanted—let alone showing him any respect.
Hearing his mother's command, the silver-haired boy finally uttered a half-hearted greeting. Observing his son's surly temperament, Adam once again found himself wondering if God was punishing him for his past transgression by saddling him with such a son.
Swallowing his anger, he summoned both Abel and Cain to stand before him and addressed them:
"You are big children now. Cain is thirteen years old, and Abel..." Adam glanced at his second son, but momentarily drew a blank regarding his age, causing him to stumble over his words.
"Abel is eleven this year!" Eve chimed in. "Yes, you are eleven now," Adam nodded, his brow furrowed with paternal authority. "So you are big boys now; you cannot expect your mother and me to provide for you forever, like Aklyman and Avan do. You must learn to stand on your own two feet."
"In the past, you have often accompanied me on hunts and on trips to gather wild fruit..."
Adam assigned tasks to his two sons.
He sent Cain out to search for edible wild fruits, while Abel was sent out to hunt.
Such was the tedious yet simple life of early humans—a daily struggle for survival, where the fundamental condition for existence was nothing more than keeping one's stomach full.
Cain disliked gathering wild fruit; he found it tedious and dull. Moreover, the wilderness was overgrown with burrs and thorns; the clothes his mother had made for him were easily snagged and torn, leaving him filthy and disheveled every time he returned.
Abel, on the other hand, found hunting too bloody and frightening; he much preferred his older brother's work.
Consequently, after leaving their home, the two brothers would invariably meet up again: the older brother would help the younger hunt, while the younger brother would help the older gather fruit.
Lucifer transformed himself into a black raven, flying silently overhead as he watched Adam's sons—their brotherly affection and harmony struck him as a truly jarring sight.
So he flew ahead of them and perched upon a tree; his sharp talons dug into the bark, securing his stance firmly.
He transformed his jet-black plumage into a dazzling black-and-gold hue; then, puffing out his chest and holding his head high, he fanned his tail feathers upward like a hawk, exuding an aura of incredible majesty.
Yet, despite being such a magnificent bird—one that seemed to shimmer and sparkle beneath the sun—the sons of man failed to notice him.
How could they possibly miss it?!
As he watched them about to walk right beneath his perch, Lucifer inwardly cursed their useless eyes, realizing he had no choice but to find a way to capture their attention.
*Sigh.* He let out a audible sigh, prompting the humans to instinctively look up.
"Brother! Look—that bird actually sighed!"
Abel's curiosity was piqued; he eagerly stepped forward, keen to get a closer look. Cain, however, was far more wary; he cautioned Abel against making any rash moves, instead merely finding a dry branch nearby and poking upward with it.
"Brother?" Abel was utterly bewildered by Cain's actions, only to see the crow spread its wings and fly off to another tree.
"What are you doing? It flew away!"
"So it flew away—isn't it still perched right over there?" Cain retorted impatiently. He gazed at the crow from a distance and asked, "Was that you sighing just now?"
"You ill-mannered human whelps! Is this how your parents taught you to treat kind-hearted friends?"
Upon hearing Cain's question, the crow spoke up, sounding thoroughly displeased.
"It can talk!" Abel exclaimed in delight. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Crow; my brother didn't mean any harm."
Cain gave a disdainful snort, crossed his arms, and stepped aside. "I certainly have no intention of apologizing."
He shot a warning glance at Abel: "Don't get involved with talking animals. Remember how a talking serpent once beguiled our mother? Have you forgotten?"
Hearing Cain's words, Abel hesitated. The crow—its eyes glowing with a blood-red hue—cast a glance at Cain. Although the boy bore a striking resemblance to Adam, his temperament was far more akin to that of the Mother of Humanity—he was quite sharp-witted.
The crow had not forgotten that moment long ago when, just as it was poised to kill Adam, it was Eve—whom it had always regarded with utter disdain—who had invoked the name of God to save Adam's life.
Conversely, this other human whelp—the one with the rather delicate features, bearing a stronger resemblance to Eve—had turned out to be just as simple-minded as Adam.
And so, the crow resolved to beguile this child, aiming to sow discord between the brothers and shatter their bond.
It craned its neck, twisting its magically transformed head to adopt an expression of utter innocence.
Abel, by nature, was a gentle and guileless soul, possessing little in the way of cunning; he was instantly captivated by the crow's apparent cuteness. Disregarding Cain's warnings, he began to walk toward it. "It's not a snake; I trust it won't harm me."
Upon hearing Abel's words, Lucifer inwardly scoffed at the human cub's naivety and stupidity—traits identical to those of his father. Yet, verbally, he heaped praise upon Abel.
"Your courtesy surpasses all talent and natural gifts. Compared to certain children who hold themselves in high esteem, I would much rather befriend you—and perhaps offer you a bit of guidance before the arduous path ahead of you arrives."
"The arduous path ahead?" Abel repeated blankly. "Do you know where we are going?"
"Of course. You are bound for a righteous path strewn with thorns and rife with challenges—a task that will demand your absolute utmost effort, pushing you to the very brink of exhaustion." The crow cast a sidelong glance at the grass basket in Abel's hand, then turned its gaze toward Cain, who stood holding a sharpened stone knife.
"As for your brother... well, his luck is far better than yours. If you ask me, he'll likely be able to breeze through his work with hardly any effort at all."
Evidently, the crow had completely mixed up the nature of their respective tasks.
However, Abel made no move to correct him; he was curious to see how their work appeared through the crow's eyes, so he simply replied:
"Oh, Mr. Crow, I'm not entirely sure I agree—even though Brother Cain does seem to handle everything with such ease."
"Surely hunting is far more exhausting than gathering fruit?"
He asked, finding it utterly inconceivable that the simple act of gathering wild fruit could be the sort of work the crow described as being fraught with challenges and peril.
"You poor child. I suggest you take some time to properly familiarize yourself with the basics of herbalism." Compared to a Fallen Angel, the current scope of human knowledge was truly pitifully meager; speaking in a tone of profound pity, he addressed them: "At the very least, learn to distinguish which plants are poisonous and which are not."
"That way, should you stumble upon two plants that look alike yet possess entirely different propert—"