Invisible World by Suzanne Weyn Page A

had the strongest sensation that someone was watching me.
    Mus tek cyear a de root fa heal de tree.
    The voice was inside my head and I heard it clearly.
    Father had taught us Spanish, French, and some Latin. I recognized a few English words in the sentence but I had no idea what it meant.
    â€œHello?” I called, aiming my voice toward the boulder where I most strongly sensed the presence. “Are you there? Can you help me?”
    No one answered, and a nervous fear slowly crept through me. What if this person wasn’t friendly? It might not be the same individual who had left the rice earlier.
    Udat tittuh? Ibidio?
    I heard the voice again in my head. This time I could tell it was a male voice. From the inflection, I realized he was asking a question. Was he wondering who I was and why I was there?
    I waved my arm widely. “Hello! Can you help me?”
    Njoso?
    What sort of language was this? Where exactly was I? Could I have blown so far off course that I was in China, or Egypt, or Africa? I hadn’t been at sea more than three days. Was it possible?
    Anxious but eager to discover who this could be, I began walking toward the boulder. Almost at once there was a rustling in a bush behind it. “Don’t go!” I shouted. “Please don’t go! I won’t hurt you!”
    A branch snapped farther off. The person was leaving. I broke into a run, desperate to catch whoever it was. Beyond the boulder was thick foliage that I tore through, leaping over tangled vines and fallen trees. I stopped, though, when I came to more of the moss-strewn trees. Again, I was not willing to enter that realm of dim, dappled half-light.
    My mind was on this strange encounter as I returned to my boulder. As soon as I got there, I checked the basket to see if my visitor had left me anything new. There was more rice, and this time it was dotted with some kind of vegetable I’d never seen before — a green oblong cone about as long as my fingers. It was warm, as was the rice.
    Somewhere nearby, someone was cooking.
    Beside the bowl was a metal container loosely covered with another piece of metal. When I opened it, I cried out with pleasure.
    Three pieces of hot coal glowed at the bottom of the can.
    Forgetting my food for the moment, I raced out onto the beach with my container of coals. Setting it down with the utmost care, I pulled together a pile of the bleached-white branches that were all over the beach and carried them back to the boulder. There I built them into a tower and tipped the burning coals on top. I smiled broadly as it burst into flame.
    After a hot supper, I searched the beach for every piece of wood I could find so that my wonderful conflagration wouldn’t die down. Luckily, deadwood was plentiful on the beach.
    That night, I lay beside my fire, listening to the thundering waves. A crescent was missing from the side of the waning full moon, but it still threw silver ribbons on the restless sea.
    Something black flew across the moon and I guessed it was a bat. It made me think of Bronwyn. Was she still flying around out there or had she found her way back to her body? I thought she must be back in her body — otherwise why didn’t she come to find me as she had on those other nights out at sea? And then I recalled that she might not have really come at all. Those late-night visits might have been — probably were — a dream. Still, I hoped they’d been real.
    Sitting back on my elbows, I gazed up at the expanse of stars twinkling against the velvety deep blue night. What was out there? The mysteries of the world seemed so vast and unknowable.
    A brilliant light twinkled across the night. A shooting star! I made a wish — Let Father, Kate, and Bronwyn be safe!
    The steadily pounding surf lulled me and I curled up on the sand, my knees pulled to my chest, my hands tucked under my head for a pillow.
    I wondered what would happen to me. It was no good for me to just