In the space between the dry sand, where the tide didn’t reach, and the swirling fog of sand beneath the surface of the ocean, there was an entire land of seashell mountains, torrential storms of seafoam rain, and monstrous leviathans with crustacean claws. Arn prowled that land, following the bird that blocked out the sun. The hazy limits of this fictional world were his destination, but on the way he fought the boldest crabs with a bright shining sword.
Once, while he sat on a scrap of seaweed with his back to the cool surface of a shell-slope, he heard the words of a man, somewhere miles away along the sandy world he tread. The voice drifted from beyond Arn’s vision. He stood up, leaning into the wind to listen.
“… Days go by, but you must remain…” the voice said. A spray of foamy water obliterated the next phrase and nearly sucked Arn away. He dug his feet into the sand, and waited for the storm to recline. He had endured worse before. The voice drifted in the eye of the tidal gale. “… Trust no one, not even your…”
The next wave came, and washed away the rest. Arn clung to the green leaf he had sat upon, until it subsided. As the waves bubbled away, shade shimmered into view, directly overhead. Tree leaves blocked out the sun, the very real sun. Arn rubbed the dreamworld out of his eyes and sat up.
A shirtless, bearded man stood over him. He had been shaking Arn, each jolt a hurricane in Arn’s imaginary world. Arn was rising to his feet before he knew why. Gamden’s words started making sense. “There’s something out there,” he cried, pointing. “Another one.”
Arn looked to the horizon, where a fat, pale red crescent was drifting across the waves over a tiny brown line. Arn had seen a few in his life, many miles out from Razaad. “Another one?” he asked. “How many have you seen?”
But Gamden wasn’t listening. “Ho! Ay!! Over here!” he shouted, waving his arms and standing on the balls of his feet.
“We’re here!” Arn bellowed, hobbling down the beach with Gamden. Gamden had said there was people on them, once, so Arn figured that they were boats of some kind, though it was too far away to see any detail. If it was a boat, there were people. “Help us!” Arn hollered.
“Fire,” Gamden said. He turned away from the shore, looking around their sparse camp. “Fire.”
The only wood dry enough to burn was the big branch that had brought Arn from the middle of the storm to this shore. Arn broke off a branch, started rolling it in a hole, twirling it between calloused hands. A thin line of smoke started to rise even before Gamden brought over some of the driest leaves he could find. The smoke grew, until the flame spread across the log. “Look for driftwood,” Arn said. He went one way around their island, while Gamden walked the other way. They each managed to find two pieces of wood, and quickly stumbled across the island to add to their fire.
The distant boat with it’s billowing wings was shrinking now. “Please!” Gamden called, standing beside the fire. Arn remained in the sand where he had fallen with the driftwood. The fire grew taller, but the omen from Razaad kept going away.
Unlike Arn, Gamden didn’t give up until it was truly gone. He kept waving his arms, wailing and whining. Then he dropped down onto folded legs and his shoulders slumped.
“We didn’t have a chance,” Arn said.
“We did,” Gamden returned. “One time we will be seen. Just a few months more.”
Arn shook his head.
The wide blue sky listened to their silence for a time. The sun was not blocked by the trees anymore; it beat down on them, unhindered. Arn thought about everything he had seen—was this it? The world was just a lot of Deep, dark recesses, and a few tiny spots of harsh life? He looked down into the fire.
“Well,” Gamden said, smirking. “At least we can cook our fish for a change.”
Arn glared at the man, but then stood up and grabbed one of the fishing spears they had made. Whether Gamden was right and rescue was sailing a few month away, or wrong, and they would die here, Arn was not looking forward to his diet of fish and coconut.