wanted to be with him too.
He gazed around. Over on the horizon, clouds lingered like round blue mountains. The air felt different: heavy and moister. The Thunder Season is coming early, he thought. That was why the storm had caught him unawares. But he felt relief too. Thisnew land had the same seasons as the world heâd known.
Still no signs of people â no canoes, no smoke. Could a land this size really be empty?
Suddenly he felt small. Tiny. The sea went on forever ⦠and so did the land ⦠and the sky above â and he was all alone. He looked down at his body. It was a good body, for a boy his age. But was it strong enough for him to survive alone?
âYes.â He said it aloud, even though there was only the dog to hear. She pricked up her ears, looking at him thoughtfully. âWe got here, didnât we, girl? The sea didnât get us. Weâll manage.â
The dogâs tail thudded on the ground. Did that mean anything?
Iâm talking to a dog, he thought. And then, No. Iâm talking to the animal who saved my life. All at once he knew that, no matter what, he was safe with her. He could be injured, helpless, and she wouldnât attack him. And even if he was starving, he would never see her as food again. If a crocodile attacked heâd fight for both of them.
Meanwhile they needed to eat.
He limped slowly along the path. It led to another muddy mangrove cove, bigger than the one where heâd been wrecked. The tide was low again, leaving a vast stretch of mud and trees.
He hopped down to it, the dog padding after him. His leg still hurt enough to make him giddy with pain if he tried to put all his weight on it or twisted it, and it gave way if he tried to stand on it, but if he wentslowly, dragging it, lifting it where necessary, it was all right.
The raw bird hadnât even begun to satisfy his hunger. He looked at the fruit bats hanging from their roosts, at the holes in the mud that meant crabs lurked below. Fruit bat and crab were good food, but both had to be cooked.
Some foods like pandanus nuts killed you if you ate them raw. Others made you sick.
He hauled himself from tree to tree again, through the soft bubbling mud the tide had left, then used his knife to prise through half-rotted timber.
Yes! There was a mangrove worm, small and white â¦
⦠and useless. White mangrove worms had to be cooked, or they left your throat sore and swollen. Every child had tried eating one when they were small; none ever tried it again.
He thrust the knife into another tree, then grabbed at the flash of pink and grey, laughing with delight. The giant worm dangled from his fingers to his elbow, fat and succulent. Not quite as fat as the worms would be during the Wet, but so good. He nipped off the sharp head with his teeth and spat it out, then sucked the creamy inside.
The dog made a small noise beside him.
âYou want one too?â
âGff,â said the dog.
He laughed again, and threw her the rest of the worm. She leaped up and grabbed it out of the air, then chewed it thoroughly, swallowing finally as though she had decided it was good.
He lurched over to another tree, and another, digging and feasting and throwing worms to the dog till he was full. The dog looked satisfied too.
He looked at his hands, covered in worm juice.
Babiesâ food. Womenâs food. Men hunted pigs. They speared giant rats or fish. They didnât gather worms that any toddler could find.
What were they doing back at the camp? Had Leki told them he was leaving? Or was she so rapt in Bu that she never even noticed Loa was gone?
For the first time he was glad that there was no one to see him. Not Loa the pig hunter, but Loa the cripple, digging mangrove worms.
He needed fire.
If he had fire heâd be a man again. He could eat cooked fruit bat. Arrowroot plants grew where the water seeped from the rocks. Their tubers would be sour and stringy at this time of
He gazed around. Over on the horizon, clouds lingered like round blue mountains. The air felt different: heavy and moister. The Thunder Season is coming early, he thought. That was why the storm had caught him unawares. But he felt relief too. Thisnew land had the same seasons as the world heâd known.
Still no signs of people â no canoes, no smoke. Could a land this size really be empty?
Suddenly he felt small. Tiny. The sea went on forever ⦠and so did the land ⦠and the sky above â and he was all alone. He looked down at his body. It was a good body, for a boy his age. But was it strong enough for him to survive alone?
âYes.â He said it aloud, even though there was only the dog to hear. She pricked up her ears, looking at him thoughtfully. âWe got here, didnât we, girl? The sea didnât get us. Weâll manage.â
The dogâs tail thudded on the ground. Did that mean anything?
Iâm talking to a dog, he thought. And then, No. Iâm talking to the animal who saved my life. All at once he knew that, no matter what, he was safe with her. He could be injured, helpless, and she wouldnât attack him. And even if he was starving, he would never see her as food again. If a crocodile attacked heâd fight for both of them.
Meanwhile they needed to eat.
He limped slowly along the path. It led to another muddy mangrove cove, bigger than the one where heâd been wrecked. The tide was low again, leaving a vast stretch of mud and trees.
He hopped down to it, the dog padding after him. His leg still hurt enough to make him giddy with pain if he tried to put all his weight on it or twisted it, and it gave way if he tried to stand on it, but if he wentslowly, dragging it, lifting it where necessary, it was all right.
The raw bird hadnât even begun to satisfy his hunger. He looked at the fruit bats hanging from their roosts, at the holes in the mud that meant crabs lurked below. Fruit bat and crab were good food, but both had to be cooked.
Some foods like pandanus nuts killed you if you ate them raw. Others made you sick.
He hauled himself from tree to tree again, through the soft bubbling mud the tide had left, then used his knife to prise through half-rotted timber.
Yes! There was a mangrove worm, small and white â¦
⦠and useless. White mangrove worms had to be cooked, or they left your throat sore and swollen. Every child had tried eating one when they were small; none ever tried it again.
He thrust the knife into another tree, then grabbed at the flash of pink and grey, laughing with delight. The giant worm dangled from his fingers to his elbow, fat and succulent. Not quite as fat as the worms would be during the Wet, but so good. He nipped off the sharp head with his teeth and spat it out, then sucked the creamy inside.
The dog made a small noise beside him.
âYou want one too?â
âGff,â said the dog.
He laughed again, and threw her the rest of the worm. She leaped up and grabbed it out of the air, then chewed it thoroughly, swallowing finally as though she had decided it was good.
He lurched over to another tree, and another, digging and feasting and throwing worms to the dog till he was full. The dog looked satisfied too.
He looked at his hands, covered in worm juice.
Babiesâ food. Womenâs food. Men hunted pigs. They speared giant rats or fish. They didnât gather worms that any toddler could find.
What were they doing back at the camp? Had Leki told them he was leaving? Or was she so rapt in Bu that she never even noticed Loa was gone?
For the first time he was glad that there was no one to see him. Not Loa the pig hunter, but Loa the cripple, digging mangrove worms.
He needed fire.
If he had fire heâd be a man again. He could eat cooked fruit bat. Arrowroot plants grew where the water seeped from the rocks. Their tubers would be sour and stringy at this time of
Similar Books
