Page 13 of Wild Life

Another step.

Then a series of hurried ones until they stopped.

She was fully dressed and in a silent standoff with Poaka whose head had dipped like he was prepared to charge at her. From the way his tail wagged, he just wanted to play. She was oblivious to his true intent, and I enjoyed watching her on edge.

Poaka was a piglet at heart, but his size would injure her if she wasn’t careful around him.

I snapped my fingers at him, signaling to back away. He grunted his protest, then trotted over to the hammock, plopping down underneath for shade.

Screech Owl’s shoulders sagged in relief, and I returned to my chore.

“Where am I?” Her voice was soft and shaky now.

So, it is possible for my ears not to ring from the sound of her voice. Interesting.

I didn’t offer a response, despite being capable of speaking. Although most of my day was spent in silence, I did talk to Poaka, and sometimes sang him his nightly lullaby. My vocabulary was vast, except my speech never matched the speed of my thoughts. Words were sticky on my tongue, like they couldn’t leave as smoothly as I wished. I hadn’t spoken to another human since my mother had died in this forsaken place twenty-four years ago, and I wasn’t interested in doing it again with a stranger. I had nothing that I cared to say to her.

Instead, I focused on the basket of fish I’d set to cure before the storm. I poured out the accumulated liquid that hadn’t properly drained because of the rain soaking the surrounding dirt.

Screech Owl approached me slowly. I could see her feet moving gingerly from my periphery, like she was stepping on hot coals. The brush underneath her soles must’ve been uncomfortable.She’d better get used to it fast.No shoes around here, princess.

She hesitated before bending to meet me at eye level. Her scent, an intoxicating mixture of some sort of spice mixed with juicy fruit, enveloped me. She had been tossed about the ocean for who knew how long and had somehow emerged still smelling like a dessert that I couldn’t quite place from my former life. A life that didn’t involve curing fish in a ditch.

I glared at her—a warning for her to keep her distance. Her aroma was fogging up my head and I didn’t like it.

She stayed in place, her green gaze carrying a soft desperation. “You understand me, don’t you?”

I did.

“My name is Maris.”

Maris.It was a beautiful name that suited her well. Thesat the end sounded endless, kind of like the waves of the sea. I wondered what it would sound like off my own tongue.

“What’s your name?” she asked.

Aleki.

“Why won’t you reply?”

Because you don’t belong here.

My silence elicited a heavy groan from her throat, followed by a forceful exhale of air out of her mouth that sent the hair framing her face flying. Inwardly, I smirked while still tending to the basket of fish.

A hand touched my forearm. Her fingers were delicate like the rest of her body, and her touch was careful, but somehow, it sent a shock wave through my body. “Please. I need to get home, and I can’t do that if I don’t know where I am.”

It was easy to feel sorry for her. She reminded me of a lost kid. Like I had once been. Like I still was. Perhaps it was better for her that I didn’t reply. Then she wouldn’t have to hear that there was no way out of this place. I knew firsthand that this island wasforever, and she’d figure it out, too, soon enough. On her own.

She let go of my arm and took a seat on the ground. “I’m a scientist who was traveling by boat,” she continued, her fingers furiously pointing at her chest, then into the distance before rocking through the air.

The strange signs she was acting out, like I was a foreigner who couldn’t understand her, irritated me all over again. Any pity I had for her disappeared. She was the foreigner, not me. This woman was not only annoying, she was condescending, too.

“Fucking hell!” she shouted. She threw her hands up in frustration, and they landed in her lap with a loud smack.

A good chunk of my slang word catalog consisted of swear words I had learned in school—words that couldn’t be found in my dictionary. My knowledge of curse words wasn’t plentiful, but it was sufficient when I needed to let out some steam if I was carrying something heavy or afuckingcoconut fell on my head. Fallen coconuts should always be preceded by the wordfucking.

A loud gurgle reverberated between us. Maris clutched her stomach, and her skin instantly turned my new favorite shade of rosy red again. It had been nearly a day since she had last eaten or drunk anything, and as much as I hoped that she’d go back to wherever she came from, she didn’t deserve to starve.

I took her small hand in mine, aware of how her eyes widened in response to the gesture. She tried to pull away, but I held it firmly in place and then placed a piece of fish in her palm.

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