Lalani of the Distant Sea: List 4

Imagine you're an exquisite eel. You are slender, long, and perpetually wet, but you never notice because how would you know that you are wet if you are forever in the water?

Your hair is an unusual shade of yellow—almost white—and it's long, brittle, and unruly.

Your hair is an unusual shade of yellow—almost white—and it's long, brittle, and unruly.

You have a kind spirit, but you can be vexed.

Lalani picked the first boat she saw at the light of dawn. The one on top of the pile, with streaks of auburn on the hull.

A rational thought in the corner of her brain told her the thread was her mind.

She flinched and steered in the direction it was coming from, but she couldn’t see the opposite end of the boat, much less the source of an indistinct sound from far away.

The boat stilled, then lifted and lurched.

The pahaalusk was drowning, she realized as the boat rocked back and forth, back and forth, taking on water and making her stomach churn.

She shoved her hand into her mouth and sucked on it, hoping to relieve the pain, which was potent enough to make her forget that she was under attack.

She had hunger pangs, but no food.

Lalani’s arms were thin, wiry, and strong, but soon they were so sore that every dip of the paddle, no matter how small, felt like a challenge.

She kept going for as long as she could, but it seemed that she was making no headway.

Her voice was light and lilting, like bubbles rising from a stream.

Her arms flailed frantically, searching for something to grab onto.

She and the pahaalusk were floating together in a wide expanse of sea.

Two horns—thick and sturdy—jutted from the girl’s head.

Lalani wanted to weep over the pahaalusk—over everything, really—and immediately scour the island for Fei Diwata and the yellow flowers, but she was starving.

“I prefer tree bark, or sprigs of grass.” Usoa paused.

Imagine you are a whenbo root. You are spindly and misshapen and you only grow from one certain patch of land. You don't drink water or sunlight. Only souls.

They search for a place to nestle. They are drawn to you. You beckon them.

Everything on Isa appeared beautifully serene.

It teemed with small animals—busy four-legged creatures with bushy tails, who leaped from tree to tree and scrambled so quickly Lalani barely had time to study them; birds, too, different than the ones on Sanlagita, but just as silent; and whiskered little things with prickly backs who dashed across the forest floor playfully.

Perhaps the island was once fierce but had become docile.

“Don’t step on these mounds,” Usoa said when they reached a cluster of strange little hills in their path. There were many of them, Lalani noticed, scattered haphazardly across the forest floor.

The ebee walked toward her tentatively with its spikes resting flat on its back.

“Oh.” Lalani frowned. “I’m sorry. Was she sick?”
“No. She was killed, trying to make amends.”

The talon was made of shining ebony, and I was enchanted by the way it reflected the moonlight.

Her voice was quiet and wary. I’d never heard it sound that way.

“I’m sorry, my love, but this is not a journey for a young mindoren,” she said. “You will have to wait for me. I won’t be long. I’ll bring you pachenka leaves as a keepsake. And a bai feather, if I can find one.”

But the idea of leaves and feathers was of little consolation to me when I had my heart set on a grand adventure.

The trees were even closer together here. They became increasingly gnarled.

She ran to the tree with her father's name so suddenly that Usoa stumbled back, confused. Lalani wrapped her arms around the trunk and listened. Usoa was telling the truth. She heard it. Faintly. Lifting from the ridges in the trunk like wisps of smoke.

She pictured the animal, whatever it was: small, cradled in leaves and thickets, fat tears dampening the fur around its eyes.

Inexplicably, her mind drifted to the day she’d fallen on the rocks, when Maddux had said she was a kind girl.