Two Moons of Sera (2 page)

I worked all morning, laying each piece of paper on the
rocks along the shoreline, securing them with small stones so nothing would be
lost to the trickster wind. Mother found entire books for me written in Erdlander,
and while she couldn’t read them, they made sense to me; the words were
familiar, like a sibling reunited. I spent hours studying the other books she’d
brought home, running my finger over each word, understanding its meaning
through touch. Mother even found a melodisk of a book being read, which ignited
the language in my mind. She suspected their language was somehow in my blood,
just like my need for air.

Laying out the paper was slow, but by the time the sun rose
to its full height, nearly a hundred pages sprawled around me. Pleased with my
work, I sat down to lie in the sand and enjoy the heat.

Mother retreated to the water. This time of year, the sun
was so close it felt as if its rays reached out and brushed my skin. The heat
relaxed me, lulling me into a sleepy respite, but my mother’s sensitive skin
dried out far too fast. So I lay alone on the beach, as she slept beneath the
water just beyond the coral reef separating our cove from the open sea.

I closed my eyes, letting the heat seep into my skin. My
mind drifted to the forest where animals hunted and scavengers picked at
whatever scraps remained. Life wasn’t supposed to be lived like mine, alone.
The situation would probably not change, though, as the few Sualwets I’d met
were afraid of me, and—thanks to my mother’s stories—Erdlanders terrified me.

As a child I hadn’t minded the solitude, enjoying my mother’s
attention and playing with the animals in and out of the water. But at fifteen
years old, almost sixteen, something inside me longed for more. I didn’t have a
name for it, but it tugged at me.

The sun floated across the cloudless sky as I half-dozed.
Our cove might have been the safest place on the planet, solitary and
undiscovered by Sualwets and Erdlanders alike. Images of floating boats and
swimming clouds filled my mind until a sound jolted me from my thoughts.

A
hoooooffff
and then
swoosh
rose and the air
moved as if something had run past me. I looked down the beach just as a dark
spot shrank and then disappeared.

“Hey!” I jumped to my feet and ran toward the movement.

If it was an animal, it had already gone. Few ventured here.
They were skittish around my mother and me. Perhaps it was used to groups, an
Erdlander pet that had lost its way.

I raced after it, sand flying behind me as my webbed feet
scooped it up, and sprinted along the beach until I reached the beginning of
the forest. The trees were thin near the sand but thickened farther back,
stretching out beyond my reach, colliding with a cliff wall that led to the
mountains.

I skidded to a halt in the sand and then crashed down to my
hands and knees. Something was climbing the cliff!

“Hey!” I cried, more afraid for the creature’s safety than I
was for my own. No animal I’d ever seen could climb such a sheer wall.

I watched, transfixed, as it moved all four limbs in
combination like a spider. The animal scaled the wall until it reached a flat
surface out over the water. Though hard to see with the noonday sun glaring
down in my eyes, I could tell the thing was not covered in hair like the wild
dogs of the forest. It had dark tan skin, like a boar, or... an Erdlander? My
mother’s voice swirled in my mind:
They have skin as dark as the bark of a
tree, and hair on their heads, thick like rope. Their eyes can be black or
green. Once I even saw one with eyes blue, like the bay, but don’t let that
fool you—they don’t possess the wisdom of the sea, only the cruelty of the sun.

The creature hunched on the plateau and reached into a bag
slung over its shoulder. A handful of the now-dry paper I’d laid out on the
beach emerged in its clutches.

“Give those back!” I screamed in the Erdlander tongue. Paper
was precious when you lived alone. Besides, it was
mine
.

At the sound of my voice, the creature turned and scanned
the beach. Hair covered its features, but I spied a pair of bright blue eyes.

“Go!” It spoke Erdlander with a tone low and gruff, like
those of the men on the melodisks.

The voice scratched against my ears and the cadence of the
word was wrong, but somehow, I understood.

“No! Give those back!” I took a step in the direction of the
talking beast.

“Mine!” He stood up, towering over me.

The plateau easily sat fifty feet up, so it was difficult to
gauge height, but whatever he turned out to be, he was tall. I shrank back,
having never seen an Erdlander or a man. My courage evaporated.

“Mine,” he repeated, then shoved the pages back in the bag
and scampered higher.

I watched his retreating form until it was just a spot in
the distance.

From then on, I walked everyday to the end of the beach and
stared up the cliff side. I wanted to see him again... or maybe I wanted to
reassure myself he wasn’t coming back. For weeks, whenever my mother retreated
from the midday sun to sleep beneath the water’s surface, I repeated my walk.

He became more idea than man. I was sure he was male; his
body hadn’t curved like mine and my mother’s but had been straight and hard,
like pictures I’d seen in books. Hunters and princes were men. Which had I
found?

I didn’t mention the stranger to my mother, or his theft.
When she asked about the missing papers, I blamed their disappearance on the
wildness of the wind. She frowned at me, judging my loss, but said nothing.

The longer he stayed away, the more I imagined about him.
The memory of his face blurred as the days passed, but the feeling in my
stomach when I thought of his voice grew stronger. Questions mounted in my
mind. Why was he here? Why was he alone? Why did he run? Perhaps Erdlanders
were not as cruel as my mother had told me.

I imagined his voice, low and hard, speaking to me over the
fire. At night I would lose myself inside dreams of touching his tan skin.

Mother never said a word. If she noticed my distraction, she
didn’t ask and didn’t interrupt. Likely she was just glad I was acting more
like a Sualwet, detached.

I busied myself with the mundane tasks of life on the beach.
Mother fished and hunted what she could while I separated the salt from the sea
water, giving us drinking water and salt to preserve what little meat we had.

The small garden I’d built flourished. Behind the cove, only
a few paces into the woods, was a clearing with rich soil. I planted seeds
Mother salvaged or from any food we found, which we’d cultivated year after
year until we had a rich variety of fruits and vegetables. When rainwater wasn’t
enough, I used our drinking water to care for the plants. Mother didn’t really
need the water to be separated from the salt, but she enjoyed the taste.

Days passed and the moons overhead traversed the sky,
calling to me. The smaller moon moved briskly. Sometimes its cycle would adjust
and it appeared during the day. Eclipses were rare, the moon too small to block
out the fire of the sun, but it passed like an inkblot across the sky.

The larger moon fascinated me the most, with its deep red
surface. In the fading sunlight, sometimes its reflection would fill the whole
sky with color. I loved those nights and would always ask Mother if I could
sleep on the beach. She never joined me, preferring to spend those nights underwater,
out of the sight of the moon’s ruby eye.

Mother said the second moon was so far away because the
night gods had banished her from the land, and that she was large because her
heart had swollen with loneliness and regret. When I asked for more about these
stories, she scoffed and refused to elaborate.
Gods are of no use to you and
me, Serafay. They are only for those with something to pray for.

The sun had dropped low by the time I finished tending the
garden and checking the crab traps. I made my trek to the cliff wall, pacing my
steps and keeping my advance steady. Despite my moderate approach, my heart
swelled, making it hard to breathe.

He was there! The mystery of his existence was no longer of
importance. All I could think about was his nearness.

I drew closer. The pressure in my chest built until I was
sure my heart would become a hummingbird and fly away. Excitement tingled in my
fingers, in my liquid legs, in my breath.

When I was near enough to hear him, I stopped and stared up,
waiting for him to move or speak. I stood as if a devotee at the foot of a god.
The longer I stood, the less I could distinguish about him.

He was simply too far away. His hair hung down again,
disguising his features from view.

“Hello?” I ventured, speaking in Erdlander.

“Huh? You.” He stretched out a finger and aimed it at me,
questioning.

I nodded and smiled up at him. My stomach threatened to
heave and my hands shook at my sides as he studied me. The sound of my loud
breathing echoed in my ears as the touch of his gaze on my skin excited me.
Every inch of me was on display, but not the way Mother had warned would happen
should I ever be found by Erdlanders. I didn’t feel like a specimen.

“You,” he repeated, his voice softer.

“If you come down here, you can point at me easier,” I
teased. My gut flipped at the thought.

His head tilted to the side, bringing more of his dark
tangled hair over his face and hiding the blue eyes I saw every night when I
drifted to sleep. Even holding impossibly still, I sensed the tingle of his
gaze against my skin.

“I promise not to bite.” My mouth spoke without my consent,
and I shivered at my boldness.

“Bye,” the man stated in a gruff, abrupt tone. He turned and
grabbed hold of the wall, and climbed along the ridge until he disappeared into
the forest.

“Wait! I didn’t mean—” I shouted after him, running behind
his retreating form. “I’m sorry,” I mumbled, sliding to a stop.

Why would he leave? Standing on the beach, I stared up at
the ledge he had spoken from. My disappointment seeped out of me into the sand.
I stood there, dissolving, having finally met someone who wasn’t my mother or
the few disapproving Sualwets who still kept in contact with her. I’d lost my
chance before even seeing his face.

“No bye,” his voice was close, soft.

I turned and found him before me, tall and intimidating. “Right.
No bite.”

“Huh,” he grunted and squatted. He stayed beneath the canopy
of trees, not venturing out into the brightness of the beach. Legs crossed and
body still, he watched me.

The sensation of being seen was remarkable. A light glowed
within me, heating parts of myself I hadn’t known were cold.

“Hello.” I approached in slow, even steps and sat in the
sand at the edge of the forest.

We faced each other in silence, me in the sand, the bright
sun warming my back as his eyes warmed my soul. He was difficult to see, as his
thick black hair hanging in front of his face twisted haphazardly. Dark shadows
fell around him, hiding him from the sun. Heat beat on my shoulders.

“Torkek.”

“What?” I asked, startled by the sound of his voice.

He shook his head and pulled the hair hanging in front of
his face to one side. Peering at me were the most vibrant blue eyes, the color
of sapphires or the ocean beyond the cove. His nose was straight and broad, his
face narrow. A scar cut through one eyebrow and dirt smeared his features.

How could creatures so beautiful and so terrifying exist? I
longed to touch him, to pull his hair away and reveal the rest of his face, but
the shaking of my hands stopped me.

“Torkek,” he stated again, with a quirk of his lips. They
were wide and full.

Why do I want to touch them?

“I... Tor.”

“That’s your name?” I asked.

A mouthful of teeth greeted me.

“Okay, hi, Tor.” I raised a hand, smiled, and placed the
palm of my hand on my chest. “I’m Serafay.”

“Sera?”

“Yes, Serafay.”

“Tor.” He grinned again and nodded.

“Why are you here? Where do you live?” I spat one question
after the next, not giving him time to answer or process what I was saying. The
world opened before me as I spoke to someone I only knew as Tor. The
possibilities of what he represented were mind numbing.

“Tor, huh Sera.”

“What?”

His forehead wrinkled and his jaw line hardened as he chewed
on thoughts he couldn’t verbalize. He pulled at his hair as he struggled to
find the words.

“Stop that.” I shot up and approached him, pulling his hands
away from his hair.

Such contact was unusual for me, but instinct dictated I
stop him. Despite the many scars along his arms, his skin was soft. I sat in
front of him, still gripping his hands. He turned away, and his dark flesh
turned a reddish hue I’d never seen before. Was he like the chameleons,
adjusting color as his surroundings changed?

A huff came from him as he looked down in his lap.

I sat so close, our knees touched and my hands held his in a
tight grip. If I released him, he might disappear into the shadows. I’d just
ventured into the darkness of the forest, leaving the hot sand behind me. The
small distance was profound.

Our hands were so different, mine small and pale, almost
translucent when not in the sun. Blue veins ran beneath my skin and small sun
spots speckled my arms. His hands were large and calloused, the nails short and
worn, and ragged, sharp cuts littered his knuckles.

“Sera,” he whispered without raising his head.

“You can’t talk much, can you?”

“Huh,” he grunted, his shoulders sinking down as his head
lowered in embarrassment.

“It’s okay. I talk a lot. Even if you don’t understand, that’s
all right.” I reached out, close enough to brush his hair away from one side of
his face. Coarse and thick, it was knotted in ropes. I pulled my hands back,
placing them in my lap, afraid to touch him.

His eyes remained locked on his hands.

“Tor.”

He looked up at the sound of his name.

“Where do you live?”

He squinted at me.

I pointed down the beach. “I live down there, with my
mother. Where do you live?”

“Huh.”

“You live somewhere nearby, up the cliff?” I pointed to the
ridge where he’d stood only moments earlier.

“Huh, up.”

“I never saw you before you stole my papers. I was really
looking forward to putting them together and seeing if they were from the same
book. It’s been a while since I had a new story to read.”

“Mine.”

“Nope, those are my pages. My mother found them fair and
square.”

He shrugged his shoulders at my declaration of ownership but
made no attempt to give the pages back. “You go.” He stood, and his hair fell
back over his face, hiding him behind the veil of black.

I remained frozen on the ground and watched as he slung his
small bag over his shoulder.

Without another word, he disappeared into the forest.