jagged rocks littered the coast, only shells of pink and white and purple, strewn over the fine-grained sand. Next to my foot, a leafy vine crawled across the beach like a shiny green snake.
Pink. Purple. Green. My heart leaped. I could sense colors! Not so well as my memories before the fire, perhaps, but much better than before the sea tore my raft to shreds.
But wait. That could not be true. As I examined my own skin, and then the folds of my tunic, I knew that they were no more brightly colored than before.
With a glance back at the beach, I understood. It was not that I could see any better. It was that this landscape simply radiated color. The shells, the shining leaves, even the sand of this place felt brighter and deeper somehow. If they seemed this vivid with only my second sight, how vivid they would be if I had eyes that could truly see!
I picked up one of the spiral-shaped shells. Purple lines wound around its body of gleaming white. It felt comfortable in my hand, like one friend meeting another.
I put the shell to my ear, expecting to hear the watery sound within its chambers. Instead, I heard a strange, breathy sound, like the voice of someone far away. Whispering to me in a language I could not understand. Trying to tell me something.
I caught my breath. Lowering the shell, I peered into its chamber. It seemed ordinary enough. I must have just imagined it. Again I brought it to my ear. The voice again! This time clearer than before. In spite of myself, I thought I heard it say bewaaare . . . bewaaare.
Quickly, I put down the shell. My palms felt sweaty, my stomach knotted. I stood up. My legs, arms, and back ached with stiffness. I glanced down at the shell, then shook my head. Seawater in my ears. Maybe that was it.
Water. I must find fresh water. If only I could find some to drink, I would feel more alive.
I climbed to the ridge of a dune arching above the beach. What I saw took my breath away.
A dense forest, where colorful birds flitted among the spires of towering trees, stretched far to the west. Near the horizon rose waves of misty hills, where the green of the forest deepened into blue. Between here and there, a lush valley unfurled as soft as a carpet. Sunlit streams cascaded out of the woods and over the meadows, merging into a great river that rushed toward the sea. In the distance, more trees grew, though in orderly rows that seemed less wild than the forest, more like an orchard that someone had planted long ago.
I was about to descend into the valley and quench my thirst when something else caught my attention. Although I could see only a little of the eastern bank of the river, it seemed far less green than the other side. Rather, it looked brownish red, the color of dried leaves. Or rust. At first it gave me an unsettled feeling, but then I realized that it was probably just some strange sort of vegetation. Or perhaps a trick of the light, caused by the mass of dark clouds hovering over the eastern horizon.
Feeling my parched throat, I turned back to the verdant valley and forest before me. Time for that drink! Then I would investigate this mist-shrouded island, if indeed it was an island. Although I could not quite put my finger on it, something about this place made me want to stay and explore—despite the strange experience with the shell. It might have been the vibrant colors. Or it might have been the simple fact that I had trusted in the waves and they had brought me here. Whatever the reason, I would remain for a while—but only for a while. If I did not discover any clues to my past, I would promptly leave. I would build myself another boat, sturdier than the last, and continue my quest.
I started down the dune. The sand soon gave way to grasses, their slender stalks bowing in the fragrant breeze. Though still stiff from my voyage, I gathered speed as I descended. Soon I was running across the open field. Feeling the wind in my face, I realized that this was the first time
Pink. Purple. Green. My heart leaped. I could sense colors! Not so well as my memories before the fire, perhaps, but much better than before the sea tore my raft to shreds.
But wait. That could not be true. As I examined my own skin, and then the folds of my tunic, I knew that they were no more brightly colored than before.
With a glance back at the beach, I understood. It was not that I could see any better. It was that this landscape simply radiated color. The shells, the shining leaves, even the sand of this place felt brighter and deeper somehow. If they seemed this vivid with only my second sight, how vivid they would be if I had eyes that could truly see!
I picked up one of the spiral-shaped shells. Purple lines wound around its body of gleaming white. It felt comfortable in my hand, like one friend meeting another.
I put the shell to my ear, expecting to hear the watery sound within its chambers. Instead, I heard a strange, breathy sound, like the voice of someone far away. Whispering to me in a language I could not understand. Trying to tell me something.
I caught my breath. Lowering the shell, I peered into its chamber. It seemed ordinary enough. I must have just imagined it. Again I brought it to my ear. The voice again! This time clearer than before. In spite of myself, I thought I heard it say bewaaare . . . bewaaare.
Quickly, I put down the shell. My palms felt sweaty, my stomach knotted. I stood up. My legs, arms, and back ached with stiffness. I glanced down at the shell, then shook my head. Seawater in my ears. Maybe that was it.
Water. I must find fresh water. If only I could find some to drink, I would feel more alive.
I climbed to the ridge of a dune arching above the beach. What I saw took my breath away.
A dense forest, where colorful birds flitted among the spires of towering trees, stretched far to the west. Near the horizon rose waves of misty hills, where the green of the forest deepened into blue. Between here and there, a lush valley unfurled as soft as a carpet. Sunlit streams cascaded out of the woods and over the meadows, merging into a great river that rushed toward the sea. In the distance, more trees grew, though in orderly rows that seemed less wild than the forest, more like an orchard that someone had planted long ago.
I was about to descend into the valley and quench my thirst when something else caught my attention. Although I could see only a little of the eastern bank of the river, it seemed far less green than the other side. Rather, it looked brownish red, the color of dried leaves. Or rust. At first it gave me an unsettled feeling, but then I realized that it was probably just some strange sort of vegetation. Or perhaps a trick of the light, caused by the mass of dark clouds hovering over the eastern horizon.
Feeling my parched throat, I turned back to the verdant valley and forest before me. Time for that drink! Then I would investigate this mist-shrouded island, if indeed it was an island. Although I could not quite put my finger on it, something about this place made me want to stay and explore—despite the strange experience with the shell. It might have been the vibrant colors. Or it might have been the simple fact that I had trusted in the waves and they had brought me here. Whatever the reason, I would remain for a while—but only for a while. If I did not discover any clues to my past, I would promptly leave. I would build myself another boat, sturdier than the last, and continue my quest.
I started down the dune. The sand soon gave way to grasses, their slender stalks bowing in the fragrant breeze. Though still stiff from my voyage, I gathered speed as I descended. Soon I was running across the open field. Feeling the wind in my face, I realized that this was the first time
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