It was a waterfall. She saw it before she realized what it was—through the trees, water pouring down from a high ledge. When she turned the last bend of the faint path to see the cascade fully, she gasped in surprise—and not just because she’d never seen such a high waterfall before.
There was someone else there. A girl about her own age, maybe a little older. Sitting on a flat rock on the edge of the water, a rainbow behind her and mist hovering all around her. Weaving, on a small handloom, a long ribbon of bright fabric.
Of all things, weaving.
The girl looked up, all brown eyes and sun-filled skin. All smile. All long thick black hair, except a small round bald spot on the top of her head, like someone had pressed a magic finger there. All bare feet and thick eyebrows and five scars down her shoulders disappearing into her shift, as if something had raked her back with sharp claws. All spark and light. She clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth as she stood, and Rayel knew her.
“Hi,” the girl said, biting off a long thread and holding up the finished ribbon. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
17
PUTNAM AND ARTIE. THE PRESENT.
ARTIE AND Putnam had followed—without knowing it, of course, since Rayel had mostly disappeared long ago from the historical record—the same currents that Rayel had followed, and the currents had funneled them into the same stretch of icy land, where they’d climbed a hill just like Rayel had done, not the exact same hill but the next one over. And even though they arrived a hundred years after Rayel did, they found a similar icy landscape.
They had not, however, anchored their boat directly to an iceberg but had instead tied it between two icebergs and left it there, in the current, hoping to keep the hull from freezing. And they had bundled up before leaving the boat, because they didn’t have Rayel’s gifts with cold weather. They also didn’t swim to shore from the boat—the water was too cold to do that—but had hung and swung, hand over hand, from the ropes they’d hitched to one of the icebergs. It was difficult, but safer than swimming.
On the boat there had been stowed a couple pairs of sun goggles which fisherfolk used on bright days on the water. Putnam and Artie wore them now to protect their eyes from the sun’s glare on the snow. They both wore two layers of blanket-made capes, hooded, with the brims pulled low, and under that, all the rest of their clothing. Artie had fashioned boots, her first pair ever, from an old piece of tarp, and both wore extra socks and mittens made from a blanket. They had one walking stick that Putnam had brought from the boat tied to his back, which they shared. They had a small water sack tucked inside Artie’s shirt to keep it from freezing, and a few pieces of dried food stored deep in Putnam’s pockets. That was all.
They were not warm. Not even close.
Putnam wanted to find the source of the salt. Artie didn’t believe they would find anything, but Putnam had gone ashore on the bear island when she wanted to, so she decided to do it here for him. Whatever they would find couldn’t be worse than bears.
After they reached shore and climbed the long hill, they stood in the wind for a precious few moments trying to find a direction that looked promising. But there wasn’t anything. Just endless snow.
Artie tried not to sound accusatory. “You said you’d find the problem. With the salty sea. Down here in the south.” She definitely sounded accusatory. She stopped talking and shivered in silence. It wasn’t like she had anywhere else to go. The only other island they’d found was inhabited by bears.
But she clearly couldn’t live here, either.
* * *
• • •
PUTNAM COULD hear the tone in Artie’s voice. And part of him agreed with it. What had he been thinking? That he would get here and magically figure something out? That saving the world would be easy? This deep southern island looked endless. And formless. White everywhere. No trees, no plants, no animals, no birds. Nothing to keep them alive. And nothing to suggest what was turning the sea to salt.
He wasn’t sure what he’d expected. A salt-making windup machine, cranking away? An evil wizard casting spells? A giant sled made of salt, crashed from the heavens? Maybe there was some clue farther ahead . . . ?
Artie nudged him, and he looked at her, then realized she was shivering, not trying to poke at him. They needed to find shelter or get back to the boat. Or at least get off this windy hill. Make a new plan.
He pointed back toward the boat, and she nodded and started down the slippery slope they’d just climbed.
Before Putnam followed her, he looked around one last time and then toward the sea, over Artie’s head. There was the ocean again, cold but somehow still more friendly than the frozen ground. And there was the boat, bobbing in the water, and there—
He gasped.
No.
Artie saw them the same time he did. She stiffened and jerked back so quickly that she fell on her butt. Then she turned to Putnam, her face in a grimace of terror.
Two bears were standing on shore looking up, up, up at them. Putnam’s well-made raft bobbed in the water behind them.
The bears lowered their heads and began walking up the hill.
* * *
• • •
ARTIE AND Putnam raced down the far side of the hill, a long, slow slope that seemed to head off into an abyss of whiteness. There was nowhere else to run; the bears had blocked their way back to the boat.
But even as they ran, they both knew escape was hopeless. The bears would catch them: there was nowhere for them to hide in all this whiteness. For a desperate moment Putnam imagined digging a hole in the snow and burying himself in it, but there was no time. No time.
They threw themselves to their chests and sledded down the hill on their blanket capes. This sledding was painful—there were shards and bumps and jagged slashes in the snow crust all the way down. Next to him, Artie bumped her face on the snow, hard, and yelped. They kept sliding.
At the bottom they jumped up.
“Your chin,” said Putnam.
She swiped with her makeshift mitten; it came away with blood.
“There,” said Putnam. He pointed upward and stared, mesmerized. The bears had reached the top of the hill, where they themselves had stood only moments earlier. One creature plopped onto its stomach like a dog, as if tired from climbing. The other lifted its nose in the air and sniffed.
“Let’s go,” gasped Putnam. The air was so cold, it bit into his lungs like a knife. Like a claw, he thought, and he grabbed Artie’s hand and yanked her into motion.
They ran as hard and fast as they could, stumbling often in the sharp crusty snow and holding hands to keep each other up. But where could they go? It was hopeless.
Putnam could feel Artie starting to lag, her breath becoming more and more ragged. And he could feel it in himself, too. They couldn’t run forever. He glanced back over his shoulder. The hilltop was empty. Where were the bears? It would be impossible to see the bears, white against white, until the monsters were right on top of them. Artie and Putnam, on the other hand, glowed bright in their blanket capes against the snow. Like targets.
Keep running.
As Artie stumbled, Putnam yanked and pulled her forward. Then Artie pointed slightly off to the side, panting. Putnam veered the way she was pointing, dragging her along. But really, what difference did it make which direction they went? Or did she see something he did not? He squinted through his sun goggles as they staggered ahead.
Then he saw it too: a lighted patch of snow. The sun was beginning to set, and as the daylight faded, a round spot in the snow—not that far ahead of them, it seemed—glowed bright.
Whatever it was, it was something to run toward. Maybe, just maybe, it would be something—what?—that could help them.
* * *
• • •
MEANWHILE, ARTIE knew—she knew—it was some kind of hole in the gr
ound. She didn’t know how she knew this, but something inside her understood. This would be a place of safety. Sanctuary. It glowed in the fading light like a holy place.
She could also hear, through and underneath the gasping of herself and Putnam, the bears drawing closer. She could feel her hair rise on the back of her neck like someone was breathing on it. There was nothing for it but to run, as fast as they could, and hope to make it. There was no way to stand and fight. She plunged ahead.
The glowing thing was a hole in the ground. They could both see it now, a lighted tunnel only a few steps ahead of them. So close. And big enough for them to slide into, one at a time, quick as quick.
Then Putnam stumbled, his foot plunging through the crust, and he flew forward onto his face, dragging Artie down with him.
She scrambled up, but Putnam didn’t move, even when she yanked his arm, hard. She screamed and tugged with all her might, pulling him forward and dislodging his foot from the snow. Slowly he rose, wavering unsteadily, his face now bloody like hers.
“We gotta move,” she gasped. “Now.” Her lungs were being squeezed by a giant icy hand.
He nodded, then looked back again.
Artie looked at the same time, and everything in her froze: her blood, her brain, her heart, all of it.
The bears stood only a few yards away from them.
They all stared, Artie and Putnam gasping for breath, shoulders heaving and bloody faces, the bears with hungry looks on their faces, bright-eyed and excited, not tired at all.
Then Putnam thrust back his shoulders and straightened out, and at the same moment, the bigger of the two bears stood on its hind legs, so enormous and so close.
* * *
• • •
PUTNAM’S MIND felt suddenly clear. This is what I am meant to do. This is how I save Artie. Not the whole world. Artie.
He pushed Artie behind him and held his walking stick like a spear. “Get to the tunnel,” he said, “and I’ll follow.”
* * *
• • •
ARTIE DIDN’T understand. Couldn’t understand. Was he going to fight the bears?
“I’ll buy you time. Then I’ll run, too,” said Putnam. “GO!”
The second bear rose up on its hind legs like the first. Both beasts roared. There was nothing but roaring.
And suddenly Artie couldn’t think anything except, RUN. She turned and sprinted, leaving Putnam behind to die, the roaring and screaming behind her filling her ears.
Part Two
How the Sea Turned to Salt
RAYEL AND UNA, ABOUT 100 YEARS EARLIER.
THERE IS maybe nothing better than traveling to the bottom of the world and finding a friend you thought you’d lost forever. Rayel thought her heart might burst.
The girl in the cavern at the bottom of the world denied that her name was Nunu and claimed she had no memory of being a dolphin; that, she said, was crazy talk. She seemed really not to understand what Rayel was talking about. But she knew Rayel and her history, and she’d been waiting for Rayel to arrive. Her name, she said, was Una.
“Okay,” said Rayel. Nunu—Una—wouldn’t lie. Who knows, maybe that was how the magic worked for her. And it was wonderful that they could now talk to each other in the same language. Una and Rayel spent all of that first day together, and the second and the third, and so on. Rayel told Una about the rest of her journey and how she arrived to the underground world. Una told about the cavern, which she’d had some time to explore. But for her it was as though nothing existed before this underground world. About her original family she’d only say that they’d been lost at sea. She hadn’t seen them since she was very young, almost a baby. She couldn’t remember more.
Una swam for hours every day in the stream and waterfall and ate only fish. She said she’d eaten fish for so long she couldn’t change her ways, not even now that she was living where there were delicious plants. When she wasn’t swimming, she would sit near the water and weave on the loom she’d built for herself out of sticks. She wove delicate grasses into mats they could sleep on and flax-like strands into clothes they could wear. The soft tassels of grain she wove into hair ribbons and bracelets. She spent long hours braiding Rayel’s hair.
Rayel learned that although she didn’t feel the cold, Una did. Una couldn’t—wouldn’t—go to the surface of the deep south, instead shivering and shaking her head whenever Rayel suggested exploring there.
They didn’t need to go up, anyway. Their underground world had everything these two could need for life: fruits and vegetables and birds’ eggs for Rayel; warm air for Una; fish for both of them; sunlight somehow brighter than on the surface and refracted through a roof so high above that it looked like sky; drizzles of rain that fell every morning from the condensation on the high ceiling; rich dirt and soft grass and running water so pure it was like nothing Rayel had ever tasted before.
This underground cavern had everything one might need to survive. Except one thing: adventure.
* * *
• • •
ONE DAY as they were sitting on the bank of the stream, Una still dripping from a swim and Rayel cleaning carrots and potatoes in the river before cooking them for her dinner, she finally got up the courage to ask Una how she came to get her scars. Rayel had seen them again when Una was swimming—deep crevasses down her back, healed but still ridged and angry-looking. Welts that would never go away. The same as Nunu’s.
Una smiled. “We all have scars.” Her teeth shone in the dusk; so did the little bald spot on her head, the blowhole mark, more noticeable when her thick hair was wet.
“Not what I meant,” said Rayel.
The other girl tossed her head and laughed. “I know.” She lay back on the grass, her hands clasped under her head and her elbows out to the side like fins. “It happened before I came here. I . . . think I went to an island.” She shook her head. “My memory isn’t too good.”
“By yourself?”
“After I lost my family. I think.”
Rayel waited, but Una didn’t say more. “What island?”
“I don’t know its name. It was crescent-shaped. The bay was warm because a hot spring fed into it. Oh, there were so many fish.” She smacked her lips at the memory, then shivered.
“What happened?” Rayel sat above her friend, the washed carrots and potatoes forgotten on the grass between them. “What made the scars?” And was that the same island that Nunu and I visited . . . ?
“I didn’t look carefully. I just swam into the shallow water in the bay, not really paying attention, you know? I’d just lost my family. I was there but not there?”
Rayel waited, tapping at the bump on her head until Una reached up and took her hand.
“It was in the bay, standing in the water. Maybe It was fishing. Seemed like It was waiting for me. It grabbed me with its terrible claws. I just barely got away, trailing blood after me.”
Rayel could hardly breathe. “What . . . was . . . it?”
Una looked surprised—surprised Rayel didn’t know, maybe also surprised that she was still there, listening. She dropped Rayel’s hand.
“Don’t you know? Haven’t you been there?”
“To that island? But I—I didn’t see anything.”
“It was a bear. Turns out they’re as real as me.” More to herself she added, “There was only one then. But later, there were two. Why two? One for each of us? One for everyone who lands there?”
Rayel shook her head. Una wasn’t making sense.
They both lay on their backs for a long time and watched the stars that were coming out overhead—or, not stars but whatever they were, glittering on the ceiling of whatever it was up there. The lid of their world. The entire cavern still glowed gently with stored light.
“So, how did you . . . get better?” Rayel couldn’t quite say heal.
Una just turned her had
and looked at Rayel. She didn’t speak, but Rayel could see the words in her eyes. You.
* * *
• • •
RAYEL WAS UNDERGROUND with Una for the better part of a year, turning fifteen in this paradise. Every day was warm and perfect. Yet Rayel felt the smallness of this enclosed world. It was like she was tucked inside someone’s pocket—but what had at first felt safe and cozy now felt like a prison. She missed the ocean and living on a raft. Out in the open. And she missed adventure.
Una, too, seemed ready to leave, finally. She talked about the ocean with a deep longing. When Rayel told her about Raftworld, she said it sounded wonderful, and when Rayel went back, she would go with her and live there, too—or if not on Raftworld, then at least near it. Rayel smiled at the other girl’s murky way of speaking. But whether Una lived on the giant raft or in the water near it, she’d be close. Rayel would have a friend nearby.
Rayel had been gone long enough. Her fiancé had surely married someone else by now. Even if he hadn’t, though, she knew now that she could stand up to him and to her parents—appeal to the council if she needed to, and explain what she’d overheard and why she didn’t want to marry this man. If that didn’t work—well, she could run away again. She knew she could, because she’d already done it. And she’d have her friend.
But there was still so much here, in the frozen south, to see. Before she went back to Raftworld, she wanted to explore this world more. After all, she’d made it all the way to the cold lands, something no other Raftworlder had ever done, and she had the magic gift to survive here. So why not return as the first human who’d explored the entire south? Maybe there was more to find before leaving: more underground caverns, maybe even habitable land above ground if one traveled far enough. Who knew when Raftworld might want a permanent place to settle? And if they ever did, she’d be the hero who had found it.
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