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Eventually, we come to a split in the path but can’t see much in either direction. “Let’s go left,” I say, hopeful there is something there. Bower leads the way and we walk silently as I consider what could have made these paths. They are naturally made. Are there large mammals that walk through here regularly? I suppose smaller mammals could have done it if there were enough of them. It was only about four feet wide, but the perfect width for us.

“Keep your eye out for a good place to make a more permanent camp,” I tell Bower as I look into the jungle beside us, hoping to spot something. A small, vacant cave, perhaps?

“How about that?” he asks as I turn my head back to him. He’s stopped in a clearing and I step up beside him, my jaw dropping open.

“Holy shit! Who built this? Swiss family Robinson?” My eyes bounce around the three huts built into the trees. Three different sizes. The smallest looked really run down, but the other two were in much better shape.

“Did the lemurs build this?” he asks, and I whip my head to him.

“You can’t be serious right now, Bower.”

He laughs, giving me a wink before stepping closer to what appears to be a hanging ladder. “Of course not. But who do you think built it?”And are they still here?“Hello?” he yells up to the treehouse. We wait silently, and when we hear nothing, he shrugs and starts to climb the ladder.

“Be careful, we don't have any weapons to defend ourselves,” I warn him, as my eyes continually scan our surroundings for any sort of threat.

When he makes it to the top and pulls himself to his feet, he looks around before moving to the door of the largest hut. “Honey, I’m home!” he calls, right before he pushes the door open and steps inside.I hold my breath and anxiously wait for him to either say it's safe or call out in fear.

“Holy shit!” He comes out, his eyes bright as he looks down at me with a huge grin. “I think we just found our five-star hotel!” I smile back and quickly climb up, eager to see what has him so excited.

When I step inside the hut, I see a makeshift bed from an animal hide, a hammock hanging across the other side of the room, and a table and chair. The walls are covered with tiny marks that looked like they’ve been carved into the wood, one by one, too random to of been made any other way.

“Look at the roof,” Bower says, pointing up.

“That looks rain proof.”

“Nothing in here is wet from last night's storm,” Bower says, unable to stop smiling.

“Fuck, this is amazing. I wonder who built it.”

“You think they got rescued?”

“It’s either that or..” I trail off, we both know if the person that built this is gone, it either means they got rescued or they’re dead. “Why don't we check out the other huts?” I suggest, looking for a change in subject. I choose to believe the person who built this was saved from this island, which means our chance of rescue is more likely, too.

We carefully walk across the skywalk to the middle sized hut and open the door. “Wow, look at all this stuff,” Bower says, walking around and touching everything.

I pick up an object that could resemble a bowl… If I squinted. Beside it is another one, marginally better. Then I find another. I realize that they progressively get better. Whoever made these spent a lot of time making them over and over, trying to get the design right. The same went for the plates, utensils and bags.

“Hey, look what’s laying right here! Are these for water?” Bower says, stepping up to the table in the center of the room. I move beside him and pick one up, looking it over.

“I think you’re right, they look like waterskins. These are going to be lifesavers.”

“Do you think that means there’s fresh water here?”

“Maybe, they might have filled them with coconut water, though.” I untie mine and give it a sniff. “Doesn’t smell like coconuts.”

“Let’s check the other hut,” he suggests. We throw the convenient straps from the waterskins over our necks and move to the last hut.

The door is a little stuck and we have to give it a good yank to get it open.

“Whoa,” Bower says as we look around. It’s like the junk drawer of the island. It’s filled with lots of handmade items, like furniture, bags and baskets. Most of it, if not all of it, is broken and poorly made. I see more than a few attempts at chairs and tables.

“There’s a lot of stuff in here.”

“Yeah,” I agree, my eyes scanning the jam-packed hut. “Whoever made this stuff was here a long time.” I shiver as I step back towards the door. “This place feels like it’s filled with ghosts.”

“Yeah, let’s get out of here,” Bower agrees. We make sure the door shuts behind us and I decide I’m going to avoid going back in that hut as much as possible.

“Okay, why don't we leave our bags in the main hut, then go back and see where that other path leads?” I suggest.