Just as I rolled free, they reached him, three of them at once. They reached for his arms as he stroked down, their fingers like talons in the streak-lit water. And then something odd happened.
They scattered.
First the three—and then all of them.
Scattered in an instant, like mice under a shoe. So quickly I wondered if they’d even been there in the first place, or if I’d imagined them, a hundred faces in the dark water.
I hung there, blinking in confusion as gentle hands probed my shoulders and sides as though making sure I was really there. Exhausted, I sagged, letting him prod until he wrapped his arms around my waist and propelled me skyward.
We broke through the surface together.
Clarity rushed through my head with the burst of fresh air. I sputtered as I gazed at him, remembering his name. Myfeet treaded the water with groggy precision, my head slipping under.
“I think you’re bleeding,” he said haltingly. “I smell blood. Say something.”
“Did you see them?” I blurted, my eyes darting around us under the moon. It came out wrong. Contorted and low, my words joined into an unintelligible moan.
Kye didn’t answer. He dragged me back up, leaning me against him, my head lolling against his chest. Gasping for air, he brushed wet hair out of my face to get a better look at me.
“Get out of the water,” I warned him, my eyes dragging shut.
He swore. His face was full of worry, gripping me harder against him to free one arm. I felt him reach for the side of his boat, frantic. Glancing at my hands, I realized my fingers held blue tinge. I feltcold.
“Hold on to the side of the boat,” he ordered, finding my hands and placing them on the edge for me. Cautiously, he let me go, treading close enough to catch me if I dipped under. He watched for a few seconds, satisfied, and swam to the other side. Through the wooden rim, I felt him scrape and scuffle, rolling up over the edge, his weight rocking the little boat, and he appeared above me with an outstretched hand.
I should’ve been ashamed at how little effort I gave.
I let him haul me in, my dead weight at the end of his arms forcing a groan from his throat. My ribs grated against the hull and then I was over the side, crashing into him, his muscles taut and hard, his arms catching me as we fell. We laid nestled together on the floor of the boat, our breath shallow and twining. His hands squeezed along my arms, warm and rough.
The boat shifted, rocking again, and my stomach cramped. Suddenly, I didn’t want him so close. The moon flashed, dizzying me. It wouldn’t be full for a few days, but it was already toobright. I avoided looking at him and sat up, draping one hand across my eyes to shield myself from the light.
Kye swallowed hard as I moved away. I watched him from under my fingers, wanting to say something—but couldn’t focus enough to decide what. Nausea melted into a dull pain which spread and ripened through my muscles. My legs became cumbersome. I tried to wiggle my toes and found I couldn’t.
Alarmed, I made to touch my feet—could I at leastfeelthem? But my body wouldn’t respond. I couldn’t move my fingers. I couldn’t move my back.
Hysteria blossomed inside me, tight and constricting, like someone had wound rope over every inch of me and pulled taut, cutting the circulation from my body. I tried to call Kye’s name but the sound left me like a distorted gasp, breathless and weak. From across the boat, Kye glanced up at me. He became fuzzy, his face losing shape and structure.
The bright light faltered, the edges of my vision dimmed like viewing the world through murky water. Kye’s face returned directly in front of me, but his features were wrong. Foggy and obscure. His voice echoed distantly.
The boat rocked; the wind whipped.
My eyes closed.
Everything went silent.
13
Iwoke as my father set a cup of tea on the wood floor beside me.
It was bright outside, though clouds loomed overhead. Birds chirped in the trees just outside my window. My father blew air over his own tea, backing down to sit on the mat next to me.
“Good morning, little leaf,” he said, his tone indicating anything but. Dark patches sagged under his eyes.
I sat up, testing my strength, and leaned against the wall opposite from him. With relief, I noted my feet responded. My throat was dry, and my muscles a bit weak, but otherwise, I seemed fine. I gazed down to watch my toes wiggle.
“Good morning,Makua.”
“I made you tea.”
