Racing, running, escaping guards that throw stones and sticks at him. Leaps on toop of market stall roofs to avoid the monsters that are men. Well beasts he thinks. My kith and kin know your foul type well. Screams in pain as an arrow slices a cut in his scalp then as he chitters in anger he throws the red bead. No reason to be here now, family had been warned. The Jit runs full out and leaps to other roofs then high into the trees then on to the shoulder of damnation and doom.
The wharf is set into chaos. The market as well. Guards that were persuing a monkey to capture or kill were now turned to keeping control of mahem. The warning had been dropped by the Jit. The red bead. The sign that all on this island had now wrought damnation it'self. Wise ones shouted leave and be swift. People raced to ships and boats for death had come to the island and nothing would stop it.
A small jit gets bandaged and hugged into the arms of a loving girl as her owner carries another girl dead in his arms. Men dropping scoops of crushed seaweed into the wells letting the poison free. Oil pots are set alight then broken in the woods to carry flame and warnings of what is to come.
A young girl not yet in her twentieth winter is laid to rest in a skiff and mournfully set alight. On her palm the mark. The one promise now to be kept. The price of her death to be paid a thousand fold by islanders that could soon have no water to drink. no wood for warmth and no hope for a future. Recompence.