“Friend,” I say. The word comes out thick and clumsy, but recognizable. “Notgift. Notgiven. Not Plood. Woman. My name Callie.Callie.” I put a hand on my chest and say it slowly and as loudly as I can.
A hush falls. Boys chuckle, their smiles white and their eyes wide.
I point to myself, then to the distant shore behind us. “I choose.” The grammar is a disaster, but the meaning should be clear enough.
Whispers break out again, louder now. The crowd is confused, but also curious. I see it in their eyes. A belief system is straining, but not really breaking. I am not driftwood. I am not prey. I speak. I refuse to fit neatly, and these guys have to understand that.
The scarred man steps closer, and an unpleasant gaze slides over me in a way that makes my skin crawl. It’s not exactly hunger,I think. It feels more like curiosity sharpened into something dangerous.
Before I can react, Crat'ax moves.
He does not shove the man, but simply steps between us, his presence suddenly immense. His voice drops, resonant and final.
“That is not decided,” he says. “The Deep has not finished with us. Or with her. It will let us know why it gave her to me.” The emphasis on the word me is obvious and also dangerous.
His words carry weight, it seems. The man hesitates, then steps back with a scowl.
I exhale shakily. This almost turned into a fight.
Crat'ax glances at me, quick and searching. For the first time since the boat, uncertainty flickers across his face. It’s not doubt, exactly, but it could be concern.
I raise my eyebrows.Um. Yeah, it’s a little bit too late for that, dude. You brought me here.
He takes my hand again and leads me away from the center platform toward a smaller structure near the edge of the village. It’s a simple hut, made from planks and straw. It looks dry, and it’s raised high enough above the water to be safe from the splashing waves. There are no particular tides on this coast, as the girls and I found out a long time ago.
Crat'ax speaks again, slower. “The village is safer than the beach. Safer than the jungle. Much safer than the Plood. But every place has its dangers.” He clearly picks short and easy words for me to follow.
“I know,” I tell him, but I’m not giving up. “Go back. Back to friend. Not Plood there. Not Plood. Only friend.”
He looks away. “The village is safe. The Deep watches us. You were given by the Deep.”
Outside, the village resumes its low hum. Life continues, altered but not stopped. I realize then that I am no longer just a captive or a rescue mission. I am an unknown, and these guys aren’t used to that.
I look at Crat'ax, at the scars and the strength that goes deep. He’s not a bad ally to have here.
If I can’t leave for now, or if I escape and am brought back, I may have to get really smart. Outwit, outlast, and then outplay.
And survive long enough to run.
4
- Crat'ax-
My hut creaks as it warms up. The sun has already climbed past the waterline and caught on the stilts. Morning has come and gone. The village is awake. I hear boats knock together. I hear voices and feet walking on the planks. I hear the skirr’s soft noise as it circles the posts below my floor. The village is different, though. Much more quiet than usual. Not everyone saw Callie arrive, but now they all know.
She sleeps on, curled on her side, wrapped in one of my furs. Her hair has come loose during the night and spills across the mat like dark weed pulled from the sea. Her face looks softer in sleep. Less sharp and less ready to flee.
The bruise on her shoulder has darkened. The marks from the tentacle stand out clearly now. They will fade, but she really should have some stripes to keep her skin from being injured so easily. Perhaps women don’t have stripes because they expect men to protect them against such things.
But it’s clear that the Deep did not give me athing. It gave me a person who hurts, who can be injured more easily than the most reckless boy.
I rise quietly and step outside.
The village spreads around me in full daylight. I try to see it as it would appear to Callie. Houses on stilts. Walkways of lashed wood. Canoes tied in neat rows, with my boat the biggest and proudest of them all. None are allowed to use it, only I. It took me a long time to build, and everyone wants me to build one for them, too. But I would rather build another one for myself, much bigger and capable of going farther. Now that Callie is here, that may not be necessary.
Yes, she will appreciate my village. We are the only tribe that lives by the ocean, the only ones who understand that the Ancestors don’t exist and that it is the Deep that provides for us.
But will she appreciate the tribe?
