MAPA & UF

Part 1
In a distant, forgotten corner of the world, almost at the edge of the earth, a small boat docked at the shore. It carried only one passenger but a vast assortment of items - large trunks, worn-out suitcases, colorful jars, peculiar nets, glass flasks, countless boxes, and insect-catching nets.
A tall, lanky traveler jumped out of the boat and splashed his way to the dry sand. His green vest, worn over a gray T-shirt, bulged with an overwhelming amount of odd trinkets sticking out from every pocket. A magnifying glass peeked from one, a pair of glasses from another, a half-eaten waffle nestled in the third, and a handkerchief was tucked into the fourth.

The traveler ran a hand through his curly blond hair, scratching his head beneath a cap. Then he pulled the brim down over his forehead to shield his eyes from the scorching sun and began muttering to himself.
"Twenty-sixth. No. Twenty-seventh. Hmm… Wait! Why do you think that? Hmm… interesting. Yes, yes! You’re probably right."
He was the kind of person who enjoyed talking to himself—a bit of an oddball, really.
Leaving his luggage in the boat, the traveler set off to explore the island. His movements were peculiar: he would take a step, then bend down, take another step, squat, suddenly stand up, turn around, and walk back. At one point, he stopped, dropped to his knees, and began crawling, peering at the ground through a magnifying glass. He dug a tiny hole with his hands, pinched a bit of nearly invisible something from the bottom, placed it carefully in a small packet, labeled it, and tucked it into one of his many pockets.
And so, switching between walking, kneeling, and crawling, he made his way across the beach until he reached a tree—one he, naturally, failed to notice.
BAM!
He smacked right into the trunk.
"Oh!"—the traveler exclaimed, rubbing his forehead. Then he looked up, eyes wide. "Oh, wow! Dracenyella Guatarska! A northern species. How did it get here?"
He reached for a leaf to add to his collection, but just as his fingers grazed the branch, he froze.
Two eyes stared at him from high up in the tree.
Human eyes.
The traveler’s mouth opened in surprise. According to his research, this was an uninhabited island.
"Who are you?" he asked.
The eyes continued to stare, but their owner remained silent.
Raising his palms in a peaceful gesture, the traveler spoke gently: "I’m a researcher. I study the nature of the island. I mean no harm."
Still, the stranger in the tree did not respond.
"Alright, you don’t have to talk. I won’t bother you. I’ll just continue collecting my samples. But if you feel like chatting, I’d be happy to."
He backed away, then turned and walked along the shore.
Suddenly, he stopped. With a swift motion, he pulled a net from his pocket and, stumbling over his long legs, began hopping and darting around, waving it wildly in the air, letting out a series of gleeful whoops. With one final swing, he tumbled backward, clutching the net to his chest.
Inside the mesh, a butterfly fluttered helplessly.
"Yes! Gotcha!" he shouted, beaming like a child catching his very first insect.
He carefully placed the butterfly into a glass jar, secured the lid, and examined it with fascination, whispering to himself all the while.
Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed something move nearby.
The traveler lifted his gaze.
A few meters away stood a small boy.
The owner of those mysterious eyes.
What a surprise!
"Hello!" the traveler greeted warmly, getting to his feet and taking a cautious step forward.
The boy stepped back.
"No, no, don’t be afraid! I won’t come any closer. I just want to meet you. What’s your name?"
Silence.
"Where are your parents?"
The boy tilted his head slightly to one side, resembling a curious little owl.
The traveler tried again, slowly and gently:
"Where are your mom and dad? The ones who feed you, bathe you, and put you to bed?"
"Uuuffff," the child exhaled heavily, his shoulders drooping.
"Is there anyone who takes care of you?"
The boy shook his head. "Ufff," he sighed again.
"How do you get food?"
The boy let out a long sigh and spread his arms helplessly.
"Poor kid! Are you really all alone? That’s incredible." The traveler shook his head in disbelief. "May I take care of you?"
The boy gave no answer. Instead, he turned and began walking toward the forest, gesturing for the traveler to follow.
And so he did.
Part 2
The narrow path they walked on was covered in scattered stones, as if it had once been a dried-up stream. Thick green foliage lined the trail, with tall trees standing among the undergrowth. Some of them bore bright yellow-orange flowers. The deeper they went, the darker and denser the forest became.
Suddenly, a rustling sound echoed through the air. Something fell from above, landing right at the boy’s feet.
A banana.
The child picked it up and glanced upward.
A monkey dangled from a vine, swaying from her tail and grinning mischievously. Reaching down with her long, furry arms, she ruffled the boy’s hair. He laughed, shrieked happily, and imitated the monkey’s calls. She shrieked back, tossed him another banana, and disappeared into the canopy.
They continued walking until the lush jungle gave way to a rocky landscape. Towering cliffs stretched on either side, and ahead of them, a mountain loomed.
The boy climbed swiftly up the rocky slope, moving higher and higher.
"Hey! Wait up!" the traveler called, scrambling after him.
He leapt over crevices, crawled over boulders, and finally, breathless and sweating, hoisted himself over one last rock—only to find himself standing at the entrance of a cave.
Inside, the boy was waiting. He smiled shyly and gestured for the traveler to come in.
Bending down to enter, the traveler blinked, adjusting to the dim light. The cave was modest—a bed of dried grass lay in the center, with a large green fern leaf that seemed to serve as a blanket. In the corner, a pile of banana peels sat like a small mountain.
The traveler looked at the boy. "You live here?"
The boy nodded.
And just like that, a new chapter of their adventure began.
Life on the island unfolded in a new rhythm.
Every morning, while Mapa lit a fire outside the cave, Uf would go fetch water from a nearby stream. Then they would heat the water in a pot, cook porridge, brew tea, and sit down for breakfast.
Uf, however, wasn’t a fan of porridge. He tried it once, made a face, and never touched it again. He also refused to eat crackers, wheat sprouts, or anything else Mapa called "healthy." But sugar cubes? He crunched on those with delight. And chocolate bars? He savored them slowly, licking his fingers long after the last bite was gone.
Uf, in turn, tried to feed Mapa his usual island food, offering him various fruits and nuts. But he would giggle uncontrollably every time Mapa took a bite, grimaced, and gulped down water in distress.
After breakfast, they would head down to the shore, where a great adventure awaited: the hunt for butterflies, beetles, spiders, and all sorts of curious little creatures.
At first, Uf just watched as Mapa ran around with his net. But soon, he joined in, skillfully catching new specimens. Sometimes, he even taught the experienced researcher a trick or two.
One day, Mapa was determined to catch a rare purple ringed dragonfly. He moved like a cat stalking a bird—crawling forward, pausing, waiting, and then… swoosh!
Missed!
He tried again. Missed.
A third time. He crept up, holding his breath, and—whoosh!
The dragonfly darted away at the last second.
"Oh, come on!" Mapa groaned, throwing his hands up. He then took off running, waving his net wildly, jumping, spinning—until he tripped over his own feet and collapsed onto the sand, utterly exhausted.
"I have to catch it! It’s such a rare species!"
He lay there, panting, staring at the sky in frustration.
Just minutes ago, Uf had been laughing at his friend’s antics. But now, seeing Mapa so upset, he grew serious.
The boy walked over, took Mapa’s hand, and pulled him up.
"Where are we going, Uf?"
"There," Uf said, pointing toward a rocky cape in the distance.
"What’s there?"
Uf just smiled mysteriously and kept walking, still holding Mapa’s hand.
"Can’t we go later? I really need to catch that dragonfly, you know!"
"I know," Uf said, stretching the words slowly. Then he nodded toward the cape. "There!"
By the time they arrived, the sun was at its peak. The rocky cape jutted out into the sea, barren and lifeless. No trees, no grass, not even moss. Just dark stone beneath their feet.
They rounded the edge of the cliffs and reached a small grotto.
Mapa gasped. "No way!"
Right at the entrance of the grotto stood a bush. An ordinary-looking bush, with green leaves and small, wrinkled brown fruits hanging from its branches. But what was truly incredible was the cloud of dragonflies hovering above it.
Not just any dragonflies—his dragonflies.
Hundreds of them.
"Uf, you’re amazing!" Mapa exclaimed, hugging the boy and kissing his forehead. "You saved the day!"
Uf beamed with pride.
Catching the dragonfly was now a piece of cake. But Mapa’s curiosity didn’t stop there. He examined the strange bush, plucked one of the brown fruits, turned it over in his hands, and broke it open. He sniffed it—ugh! Wrinkled his nose—ugh, ugh! Touched his tongue to it—ugh, ugh, UGH!
"What is this thing? I’ve never seen anything like it! And the smell… Yikes! It’s like burnt milk mixed with rotten apples!"
He took another fruit, carefully placed it in his pocket along with a few leaves, then snapped a photo of the bush and scribbled notes in his journal.
As they walked back, Mapa couldn’t stop grinning.
He looked down at Uf, who walked beside him, happily swinging their joined hands.
They had become a real team.
Part 3
As the days passed, life on the island settled into a joyful rhythm.
Mapa taught Uf new words, explained how the world worked, and answered endless questions about the stars, the sea, and why people only had two legs.
Uf, in turn, led Mapa through hidden trails, showing him caves, burrows, and hollow trees—all rich with fascinating discoveries. Thanks to these little excursions, Mapa managed to collect an impressive array of specimens.
But more than anything, Uf was mesmerized by Mapa’s tools—the spyglass, the camera, the glass jars, and especially the magnifying glass, which he used to focus sunlight and set dry grass ablaze.
At night, they would sit in front of their cave, sorting through the day’s finds.
They carefully placed leaves, flowers, and tiny pebbles into labeled pouches and tucked them into large folders. Shells and stones were neatly marked with white strips, inscribed with notes in Mapa’s precise handwriting. Bottles and jars received their own tags and were stowed in a big wooden trunk.
Mapa also conducted experiments. Some specimens were submerged in water, others mixed with vibrant powders or mysterious colored liquids. Sometimes, the mixtures fizzed and foamed, sometimes they changed color, and sometimes… nothing happened at all.
Mapa would simply nod, scribble notes into his journal, and move on.
Uf, meanwhile, watched, wide-eyed, utterly fascinated.
But life on the island wasn’t just about research.
There were fish to catch, sea creatures to study, and, of course, plenty of visitors.
Some of Uf’s jungle friends would leave small gifts—fruits, nuts, or dried leaves—outside their cave. Others, like the mischievous monkey sisters, would join them for breakfast, chattering away in their own language.
However, some visitors worried Mapa.
One day, while chasing a particularly rare type of beetle, Mapa jumped into a rocky crevice, reaching just in time to grab the insect by its hind legs.
"Gotcha, Uf! I caught it!"
He grinned and held up his prize… then froze.
Just above him, perched on a ledge, sat a caiman—a crocodile the size of a large pig.
"Uf! Uf, don’t come any closer! There’s a huge crocodile up here!"
Then, out of the corner of his eye, Mapa saw Uf… sitting on the crocodile’s back.
The boy was gently stroking its scaly skin, laughing.
The caiman turned lazily and, with slow, deliberate steps, ambled toward the water. Uf rested his head on its neck and closed his eyes.
Mapa just stood there, blinking in shock.
"Well, I’ll be damned…" he muttered, scratching his head.
And so, the days continued—bright, lively, and full of wonder.
Three weeks passed.
One evening, as they sat by the shore, roasting insects over the fire and watching the setting sun, Mapa spoke:
"Uf, we need to talk."
The boy, nibbling on a crispy beetle, turned his curious gaze toward his friend.
Mapa hesitated, then took a deep breath.
"I’ve finished my research. It’s time for me to leave the island."
Silence.
Then, Uf’s face crumpled.
He took a shaky step back, his eyes filling with tears, and then collapsed onto the sand, sobbing.
"Uf, Uf, my dear boy, don’t cry!" Mapa reached for him but hesitated, unsure. "I don’t want to leave you! You could come with me to the big world, would you like that?"
Uf stayed silent.
He lay still, his face buried in the sand. His shoulders trembled, but he no longer made a sound.
Mapa sighed. "I’ve never had children before, you know. And I’m not sure I’d be a very good father."
Nothing.
Mapa continued, more softly now.
"I travel all the time, and when I’m home, I’m always at the institute."
Still nothing.
"But I do have a house—a big one. And a housekeeper who takes care of everything. You could go to school, learn to read, and discover so many amazing things. And in the evenings, we’d sit by the fireplace, looking through picture books, reading stories, playing games…"
At last, Uf lifted his tear-streaked face.
Mapa gave him a small, hopeful smile.
"The big world is full of wonders, Uf. And I promise—I’ll do my best to be a good father."
For a moment, Uf just stared at him.
Then, suddenly, he leapt forward, wrapping his thin arms around Mapa’s neck, hugging him as tightly as he could.
"Mapa! Mapa! I love you, Mapa!"
At dawn, the boat drifted away from the shore.
It carried trunks and suitcases, bottles and boxes, nets and flasks, butterfly collections, beetle specimens, and samples of rare plants and minerals.
And two travelers—
One big. One small.
THE END.