The Cave Girl

Sitting here on the beach, I could see my now useless glider plane, various bits of driftwood and debris, and a girl with long black hair, about 150 feet away. The girl was new. She hadn't been there for the past three days the way that everything else had. I was sitting under a tree looking out at the ocean. It was probably the Pacific Ocean. I didn't know for sure.
When she got closer, she called out, but not loudly. It sounded something like, "Aquilala soma towatsina."
Or something like that. I didn't understand a word of it. It was a nice language though. I liked the sound of it. She looked like some kind of cave girl, fur bikini and everything. If she didn't try to kill me, maybe I'd at least have some company.
This was weird. I was calmly accepting, and maybe actually embracing the idea that I was stranded on the edge of a jungle with no way home. Maybe there was a village with a telephone on the other side of the trees. In a way, I hoped not.
I felt happy to see her, but not exactly excited. It wasn't like I thought, "Oh my gosh, I'm rescued!" It was more like, "Hey, she's kind of cute. Nice bikini. Nice tan too."
When she was about 50 feet away I stood up and stepped onto the sand.