Two Moons of Sera (3 page)

The next morning, I woke before my mother and began the
fire. The days were getting hotter and the idea of cooking appalled me, but I
couldn’t eat anymore of my mother’s preferred breakfast of fish eggs, cold from
being buried deep in the ground of our small cave. The warmth of the
slow-rising morning sun battled with the heat of the fire as I boiled potatoes
and other vegetables I’d harvested earlier in the week. Alongside some of the
meat I had dried, it would make a fine meal.

I threw in extra, thinking I would take it down to the cliff
wall later.

I didn’t understand Tor—why he didn’t speak, why he kept
running off. It infuriated me but made my curiosity about him flare. He was
dirty and unkempt. Did that mean he lived alone? Did all Erdlanders take such
terrible care of themselves?

My mother would know, but asking her would just pique her
curiosity and make her watch me closer. She was content to leave me alone
during the day because I’d stopped venturing out of the cove.

The forest held little allure for me since I’d met Tor. What
did a footprint or a new fruit matter to me now?

~
Serafay
,~ Mother grumbled as she unfolded from her
hammock. Sleeping on land left her stiff and ornery. I’d told her to sleep
under the surface, but she refused. ~
I leave you alone too much as it is
,~
she would say whenever I brought it up.

~
Morning
.~ I smiled over in greeting.

She shed her night clothes and walked naked out of our
simple home. A splash rose as she dove beneath the surface to rejuvenate her
dehydrated flesh.

My breakfast finished cooking and I ate while sitting on a
stool. One of my older Erdlander books lay open before me; I’d long ago
memorized the words within.

~
Why do you never read the Sualwet texts I bring you?
~
She passed me, heading for the hole where she’d hidden her breakfast.

~
You tell me those stories. These I have to learn from
books.
~

She shrugged and disappeared into the dark cave, reemerging
a moment later with the canister in which she kept her fish eggs. After sitting
on a mat near me, she began eating.

I looked away, pretending to return to my book. In reality,
my thoughts wandered to my upcoming visit to the cliff wall and Tor.

~
Serafay!
~

~
What?
~ I snapped from surprise. ~
Sorry, I didn’t
hear you.
~

~
You didn’t hear me? Was the volume of the empty cove too
loud?
~ Mother stuck her hand back into the canister and pulled out orange
roe.

~
Sorry, I was thinking. What did you say?
~

~
Nothing. If you aren’t interested enough to listen, then
I see no need to repeat myself
.~ She stood up and replaced the top of the
canister, turning her back on me.

I followed her with my eyes until she disappeared into the
gloomy cave. Pushing for my mother to explain something had never gotten me
anywhere. If anything, nagging made her more overprotective and less
conversational, so I waited.

~
I’m heading back to the shipwreck tomorrow. The sharks
will be gone and any rescuers will have come and gone by now. It’s been a few
weeks, so what’s remaining will be on the bottom of the seabed. There were a
lot of supplies and food in canisters left on that ship—enough to last us all
winter, without hunting, if we wanted. And books and Erdlander clothing. I’ll
need the nets and whatever bags I can use to bring anything I can carry back.
~

~
Can I come? I could help you carry it
,~ I ventured.

~
No
.~

~
We could go tonight if we hurried, then you wouldn’t
have to worry about anyone seeing me when I go up for air
.~

Mother pulled on her dress and ran a webbed hand over her
bald head. Her black irises almost filled each entire eye as she gazed at me.
She did not repeat herself; her no had been final.

I longed to go with her, to go
anywhere
. I needed to
see more of the world, and staying behind was killing me.

She couldn’t understand. Sometimes it seemed she didn’t know
anything about me. When she looked at me, I realized how different we were. My
reflection, in the small hand mirror resting in my basket, must have been as
alien to her as she suddenly looked to me.

~
I’ll lay out the nets
.~ I stood, knocking my book
over into the sand.

Mother reached for it and eyed the scrawl on the open page.
~
I don’t understand how you read this
.~

~
It just makes sense
,~ I replied with a shrug. It
never seemed odd to me that I could understand the Erdlander words after
listening to melodisks. No one had taught me Sualwet either, yet I spoke it.

~
It’s an ugly language. You should be glad you speak
Sualwet
.~

~
Sualwet sounds different underwater. Up here, it’s
probably ugly to the Erdlanders
.~

Mother stared at me, her eyes hard and cold.

I understood why the sharks never bothered her when she was
swimming. They were as afraid of her as I was of the sharks. Her icy glower
broke me down until I closed my eyes and moved away. ~
I’ll get the nets
.~

~
Make sure there are no knots
.~

~
I know
.~

~
Serafay?
~

~
Yes?
~ I turned back and my mother’s eyes were
softer, but she still held the offending book. A knot gripped my stomach.

~
I’m sorry you don’t have anyone but me. I know it’s
lonely and
....~ She paused and looked down at the object in her hand. ~
I
am glad you have books to keep you company
.~

~
Thank you
,~ I whispered, and escaped into the cave
to gather the nets before hauling them to the beach.

I’d never realized how much I wanted more than just books
and my mother to keep me company. Not until I met Tor. Now that I knew he was
out there, life became lonelier than before. Each moment away from the cliff
agonized me, and I suffered to return.

I unrolled the nets we’d woven together from rope and
discarded fishing nets. We spent hours untying the knots of the broken nets and
weaving them together in a tighter knit, so we could use them to haul the items
she found. The nets became tangled when stored. I didn’t understand how a thing
could become so gnarled sitting still. Yet they did; it always took three times
as long to unravel them for use than it did to fold them for storage.

The labor wasn’t hard but consumed my concentration enough
to keep me from noticing the passage of time. After Mother dove into the water
for her afternoon reprieve, I abandoned the nets and fetched the food I had
saved for Tor. I placed what was left into a bowl and draped a cloth over it to
keep from spilling as I walked.

My brisk pace lightened my mood as I headed toward the cliff
wall. I walked in a steady stride, my feet accustomed to the shifting terrain
of the beach.

When I arrived, Tor wasn’t there. I waited, hoping to see
him in the shadows. Trees moved in the breeze, playing tricks on my eyes and
making my heart tremble. Why should I assume he would be here today?

I had hoped that after our talk he would be there, and felt
stupid for thinking he looked forward to meeting up again as much as I did. Why
would I mean anything to him other than an annoyance? He had, after all, stolen
my papers and yelled at me. Still, he lived alone; I was positive he did. His
hair, his scrapes and scars—no way did he live in a city or town like other
Erdlanders. Not looking like that.

I was alone, too. Maybe I just wanted a friend more than he
did.

I set the bowl on one of the higher rocks near the cliff, in
case he would come later. Despondent and annoyed by his absence, I waited a few
seconds longer, hoping he would appear. In the end, all I wanted was to see him
again, to push the black hair off of his face and gaze into the blue eyes that
followed me in my dreams.

At last, I turned back toward home. I walked slowly,
unfamiliar with the feeling inside me. During my childhood, my mother went away
and I was left behind, scared and alone. Now I was used to being lonesome, and
the ache within me wasn’t fear. What was different? I’d been made no promises,
had no reason to expect he’d return, but instead of indifference, anger burned
within me, and a tightness enclosed my heart.

I pulled my dress over my head and walked into the water,
wanting to be surrounded by something, held close, before the tears scratching
at the back of my throat could break free. I wasn’t hurt, I wasn’t mad; there
was no reason to cry.

But Tor wasn’t there, and I felt like I would break in two.

My mother woke early. The sun hadn’t risen yet and she moved
about in the darkness, getting ready for the day.

~
Mother? Do you need help?
~ I offered, sitting up in
my hammock.

~
No, I’m fine. The bags you packed last night are perfect
.~
She came closer so I could see her in the dim morning light. The nets were
wrapped in the mesh bag attached to her back, leaving her arms and legs free to
swim.

~
Good
.~ I yawned, not ready to be up yet.

~
Go back to sleep. I’ll be home tomorrow
.~ She turned
and strode into the darkness toward the light shining on the ocean’s surface.
My mother didn’t look back; she never did.

I fell back to sleep with ease, dreaming of warm hands and a
deep voice that always told me to go away. All I wanted to do was get closer.
The sun rose overhead, demanding my attention. I had never been able to sleep
during the day. The sky invigorated me, so open and bright. It called me to
sing and run.

After getting up, I dressed and began making breakfast. I
set some grains to soak with desalinated water before heading outside to grab a
basket. Mother could breathe in seawater, but drinking it still made her ill.
The Sualwets had developed an additive for saltwater, which bound to the salt
molecules and rendered them harmless.

Down the shoreline, far enough away to not bother my mother,
was the pen where I kept chickens. We had nine of them now and always had
enough eggs. Sometimes we could even spare one for its meat.

I hadn’t been out to their thatched enclosure in a while and
knew they’d be excited to see me. The stupid flightless birds had become
attached to me even though I stole their eggs and killed their brethren. Taking
a small basket, I left my home and stopped in shock as I looked out at the
shore.

Sitting back on his knees was Tor, looking out at the water.
He had gathered and tied his tangled hair in a large knot behind his head,
leaving a clear view of his silhouette. My chest constricted. I couldn’t
breathe as my eyes traced the outline of his face. His brow was low, his eyes
hidden from my view. My hands clutched the basket.
Why is he here?

“Tor?”

He turned his head at the sound of my voice, blue eyes
searching mine.

“Sera. Here.” Speaking in Erdlander, Tor reached for a bowl
sitting next to him and stood up. He held it out but I didn’t look. My eyes
remained locked on the man before me. Now that the hair was pulled back from
his face, I saw the strong line of his jaw and high cheekbones.

“Here,” he repeated stepping toward me.

“Thank you.” I responded in his language while crossing the
sand toward him. After shaking my head, I looked away from him. “I’ll... I
guess, I’ll put this away. Um, wait here?”

“Yes,” he said in his monosyllabic way.

I rushed back into my home, wanting to get back before he
disappeared. He had the bowl. The food was gone. He must have gone to the cliff
wall after all. I was embarrassed for having been angry with him and felt
stupid for caring so much. Now that I had proof he’d wanted to see me, caring
seemed so silly. It was easy not to care when I had what I wanted. The longing
had made me act the fool.

I placed the bowl on the ground next to the fire. I could
wash it later. With the basket in hand, I rushed back to where Tor waited. He
stood, watching the water. What did he see when he looked out? Did he see just
another prison wall the way I did?

“Wait,” Tor said when I approached. His eyes were friendly
but his stance intimidated me.

My mother was tall, but now, standing with him in the bright
morning sun, I felt small. After a moment he turned his attention back to the
water. His face had short hair on it—not much, just around his jaw and over his
lips. I stared, taking in the scrapes and bruises on his cheeks and forehead,
curious if his wide mouth would ever smile.

Tired of waiting, I asked, “What?”

“What?” He arched an eyebrow and looked down at me.

“You said wait. I’m waiting.”

“No.” One corner of his mouth lifted as he searched for the
right words. “You say wait. I wait. You here. I not wait.”

“Oh!” I laughed. “You were just telling me you waited?”

“Yes.” The rest of his mouth gave in and lifted into a
smile. Reserved, but still a smile. “Now go.”

“What?”

“I wait, now I go.” His eyebrows came together in
concentration. His speech was clearer and he seemed less frustrated than when
we talked the other day.

“You can stay,” I offered, not wanting him to leave so soon.
He was actually talking and had come to find me. Instead of me going to the
cliff, he had sought me. That he had come here and waited for me made my pulse
speed up. I didn’t want him to go.

“Mother.” Tor pointed out to sea.

“She’s away. She won’t come back for a while. You don’t have
to go.”

He nodded. “Huh.”

“I don’t know what that means. Is that a word?”

“No.”

“Does it mean something?” I pressed.

“Yes.”

“Can you tell me what?”

“I... it mean, what need,” He explained by crossing his arms
over his chest. His shirt was dirty and torn at the shoulder and hung off him
loosely. His gaze remained locked on the tide as it encroached on the shore,
bringing the sea closer.

“I don’t understand.”

“Huh,” he huffed.

“Sorry.”

“No. I... I tell you. It mean all things. No word things.”
He struggled to put the words together, but he was talking and his voice was
less stilted.

“Things you don’t have words for?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, are there a lot of things you don’t have words for?”

“Yes. Now more words. You tell words.” He unfolded his arms
and gestured to me, stepping closer.

“You’re learning from talking to me?”

He nodded.

“That’s how I learned. I could read the Erdlander books and
understand, but I never spoke it, and then one day when I was about nine, my
mother found a melodisk of a book being read. It was amazing. All of a sudden,
all of the words I’d read had sounds and it was like—”

“Stop,” Tor interrupted.

“Stop what?” I asked, startled.

“Too much words. Too fast!”

“Sorry.” I looked down at my feet, embarrassed.

“No sorry. Talk... more slow.” He leaned down to catch my
eyes. “Please.”

“Okay, I’ll try.” I finally had someone to talk to and I was
making a fool of myself. It reminded me of that fairytale Mother used to tell
me about how the dolphin sang so fast all anyone could hear was a high scream.
Now all the dolphin can do is squeak, never to sing again.

“Sera make?” Tor gestured toward the basket I clutched in my
hands.

“Yes, I made it. I was going to go get eggs. Are you hungry?”

“Eggs?” Tor turned his body, scanning the beach, looking for
something to attach the word to.

“The birds are in a pen. Come on, I’ll show you where they
are and then we can make something to eat.”

“Sera make?”

“Yes, I’ll make you breakfast.” I stepped away from him,
toward the path leading to the chicken pen. “They’re stupid birds. I caught
them one at a time, and now the free ones will peck at the fence to get in with
the others. Sometimes I can just scoop them up and put them inside, without
having to chase them with a net.”

Sparse undergrowth lined the edges of the sandy path. The
trees nearest the water were tall and thin—easy to maneuver around, unlike the
dense foliage of the forest. This was where I came when I wanted time alone,
away from Mother’s constant presence. I spent hours inventing friends and games
in my mind.

“Birds?” Tor asked as we walked. His gait was long, and his
body moved with lithe grace across the changing terrain of sand and dirt.

“You know, they fly.” I stopped walking and pointed to the
sky. “That’s a gull. They eat the fish we catch, but there are a lot of
different ones.”

“Birds take.”

“Right, they take our food. Sometimes they
are
food.
Do you hunt? You must, I mean, otherwise you couldn’t eat.”

Tor shrugged nonchalantly; we had surpassed his vocabulary
for now. We rounded the growth of trees, which separated the chicken pen from
the path. The noisy birds were clucking, excited to have me visit. Little did
they know I was only here to steal their eggs.

“Fly out?” Tor asked, inspecting the pen I had built.

“No, the chickens can’t fly, so they can’t get out.”

“Good,” he announced, patting the fence and stepping back.
If he was complimenting the construction or just glad his food wouldn’t escape,
I wasn’t sure. Knowing he liked something I had done filled me with joy.
Mother, content to live on fish eggs and plants, never noticed these kinds of
things. She ate when I cooked but never understood why I spent so much time at
it instead of just eating what I needed to survive.

Opening the gate, I stepped into the pen with my basket. “Shoo,
shoo, shoo,” I cooed to the birds as I walked through, passing out grains from
the basket. They flocked around me, hopping in the air for whatever treat I,
their benevolent enslaver, had brought. While they were occupied with eating, I
passed through the flock to the lean-to holding their nests.

Over the fence, I asked, “Do you want to come in?”

“No... birds not good.” Tor’s face scrunched in disgust.

I laughed, earning a scowl. “They won’t hurt you.”

“No. Birds... ‘huh,’” he said, gesturing futilely with his
hands.

“It’s okay. If you’re afraid of the birds, I’ll do it by
myself.”

“No! Not!” he insisted, still looking for the words.

It wasn’t nice of me to tease, but his reaction was funny
and I was so nervous around him that just saying something set me as ease. I
didn’t know the man standing outside the boundaries of the coop. He frightened
and excited me, but more than anything, I longed to see him smile again.

I dropped the basket near the hutch and picked out the warm
eggs while ignoring him as best I could. Still, the burn of his gaze ate at my
skin. I carefully gathered ten eggs into my basket, before looking up. Tor was
not there. The touch of his gaze had been a creation of the mind, the shadow of
a sensation I’d never experienced.

“Sera.”

I looked behind me in time to see him jump over the
enclosure wall. He landed in the middle of the chickens, scattering them.

“What are you...?” I squealed as a group of frightened birds
hid behind me, seeking safety from the man invading their home.

“Not fear.”

“Okay, you aren’t afraid of the birds. You didn’t have to
scare them half to death, though.”

“Birds not good.” He picked up one of the chickens nearest
him with a large hand, holding it around the middle in an unceremonious grip.
Walking toward me he turned the bird in his hand until its backside pointed at
me. He gestured to its rump and said again “Not good. Not... clean.”

The appearance of Tor—covered in scars and scabbed-over
scratches, towering over me with intensity, holding a small bird and pointing
at its rear end—was simply the funniest thing I’d ever seen. When I burst into
laughter, Tor growled and dropped the bird to the ground. I couldn’t catch my
breath, and tears came to my eyes.

“Tor!” I squealed and had to bend over. I laughed harder
than I had in years.

He waited, an annoyed grimace on his face, while I attempted
to get ahold of myself. But, every time I glanced up at him, I started again.
The more aggravated he got, the more my amusement grew. After a few minutes, he
gave up on me and picked up the basket, walking through the oblivious chickens
toward the gate.

“Come on,” I gasped, straightening so I could follow him. “That
was funny.”

“Huh,” was all he said, not bothering to look back at me.

“You can’t be mad,” I insisted, hurrying to his side.

He opened the gate, careful not to let any of the offending
birds out before looking at me.

“Not mad.” Despite his reassuring words he still wouldn’t
look at me. A hard set to his jaw.

We walked side by side in silence, away from the chicken
enclosure and back to the beach. When we reached the cave entrance, Tor stopped
and handed me the basket. For a moment, I thought he was leaving, that he
really was mad. The idea of being without him made my throat close.

“Tor...,” I began. Nervous flutters passed through my body,
my breath catching.

He nodded to the basket without looking at me. “Sera make
food.”

“Are you going to leave?” I had to know. There was nothing
for me to lose. If he left, I returned to my sun-filled prison. What harm lay
in asking?

“Huh?” This time his eyes met mine, his dirt-streaked brow
furrowed in confusion.

“Are you going to go?”

“No. Why ask?” His soft voice danced against my ears, his
confusion replaced with concern. “You... you want I go?”

“No! I just... I thought you were mad.”

“Told you, not mad.”

“I know, but you got quieter than before—if that’s
possible—and... I was worried.”

“You worry. No worry. I not go.”

“Okay....”

I turned away, taking a shaky breath as I tried to reorient
my life to include another person.

“Sera... Sera laugh.”

Glancing behind me I saw the color rise to Tor’s face as he
confessed the reason for his silence. “You were embarrassed?”

“Huh.”

“Tor, I... I’m sorry. I didn’t laugh at you. It was just
funny.”

“Huh.”

“Think about it.” I set the basket in the sand and stepped
closer. “You were standing there, holding a chicken, pointing to its...”

“Yes.” One side of his mouth quivered before curving into a
lopsided grin.

“And the poor chicken! It was squawking and trying to get
away from you! You probably have a whole new set of scratches on you.”