Island's End (11 page)

I open my eyes and see the eagle perched on Lah-ame’s shoulder.

“Well done, Uido.” His eyes twinkle.

I reach out to the eagle but it turns away. I withdraw my hand, feeling a little hurt.

Lah-ame says gently, “This is my brother, Uido.”

“But he carried me. Is he not my spirit animal now too?”

Lah-ame shakes his head. “He only did what I requested, Uido. Someday you will find your own spirit animal—one that you may touch and call and speak to at any time.”

“What kind of animal is it, Lah-ame?”

“I sense yours is a water spirit, unlike mine.”

“Must I seek it, like my special medicine plant?” I ask.

“Your spirit animal will seek you out,” he replies. “It will challenge you to a fight. And either it will kill you or else you will win and the animal’s spirit will become a reflection of yours.”

“I do not understand, Lah-ame. What does it mean to win over its spirit?”

“Your spirit animal is a guide whom you can call upon for help. You may send your spirit into its body, just as you can send your spirit through the Otherworld. When you do so, you will sense everything through your spirit animal and travel with it. And your spirit animal’s wisdom may help you lead the tribe.”

At these words, the eagle screeches and takes flight again.

Lah-ame turns to face the rising sun and bows his head. “Biliku-waye, Pulug-ame, I thank you for guiding Uido on the spirit paths and I ask you to protect her when she meets her spirit animal. May she always carry not only our songs and stories and medicines and memories, but also the happiness of each day on these islands.”

“Lah-ame, may I rejoin the tribe now?” For a moment I worry that I sound ungrateful.

Lah-ame places his palms on my shoulders. “You learned faster than I expected. But the air of the cliff top is light, Uido. Here it is easy to balance the worlds of spirit and flesh. Once you are back in the village with the others, it will be hard to keep your mind clear enough to enter the Otherworld and let the spirits visit you. The most dangerous part of your oko-jumu training lies ahead, not behind.”

I try to stifle the impatient sigh that rises to my lips, hoping he will let me go soon.

Instead, he continues, “And one final warning: until you meet your spirit animal, you will not have the strength to heal someone else on your own. If you try to heal another person before this happens, you will endanger yourself and shake the tribe’s faith in our ways.”

Lah-ame blows his breath across my face and hands me a bag of water. “Go well, Uido. I will follow later.”

My spirit is so full of anticipation at meeting my tribe again that I barely listen to Lah-ame’s warnings. I thank him, tighten the knot that holds my medicine bag in place and blow across his cheeks. My breath feels shallow, as though I am already running home.

A
s I race away from Lah-ame, the wind blows a fresh strength into my body. I leap across the stones in my path, eager to be surrounded by my tribe again. I do not rest for long, even during the hottest part of the day, because I feel cooled just thinking of the shady trees surrounding our village.

I near the village at dusk. In the fading light, the joy I felt earlier weakens, and I remember that my tribe looked at me like I was a stranger only moments after Lah-ame announced that I was to be his apprentice. My steps falter and I worry about how my people will treat me now. But even as I slow down, a ra-gumul boy sees me and cries out, ‟
Olaye, olaye, odo-lay, odo-lay!
Come, everyone! Uido is back!”

He races up to me, sits cross-legged on the jungle floor and holds his hands out, waiting to take me in his lap the way our tribe always welcomes someone who has been gone a long time. With relief, I collapse into his lap.

“Uido!” Danna bursts out of the trees and pulls me to my feet. His face is as round as ever, his smile still as wide. But he is much taller. Fresh scars run across his upper arms and thighs. He has cut a beautiful pattern of lines and dots into his own skin, but seeing his tattoo upsets me because it means I missed my best friend’s manhood ceremony.

Danna breathes across my face. I notice that his mouth has a pleasant scent like earth moistened by the first rain.

He sits and draws me onto his lap. I shift awkwardly, sensing his rock-hard legs beneath mine. It feels different from sitting on the other boy’s lap moments ago. The Danna I knew was a boy; the one who holds me now is a man.

“I missed you.” His voice has deepened into a man’s voice as well. He pinches my waist gently. “You have grown muscles.” The pebble-smooth skin of his chest presses against the full length of my back. My body trembles as if a cool breeze has wrapped itself around me instead of Danna’s warm arms. “And you have also grown very silent.” He holds my chin and turns my face to meet his.

His eyes look just as warm and caring as before—and it comforts me to see that they, at least, have not changed. I let my fingers wander over the scars on his shoulder. “Does the tattoo still hurt?”

“Not at all. Do you like it?” He sounds anxious to hear my approval.

“Yes, very much.”

Tawai tumbles into my lap, interrupting us. I hug him, but he quickly wriggles out of my arms, jumps up and takes me by the hand. Danna takes the other and together they drag me closer to our village. ‟
Olaye, olaye, odo-lay, odo-lay!
Uido is here again!” Their shouts are echoed by other voices.

Kara strides over to us, exclaiming, “We did not expect you back for another season at least!”

“Lah-ame said I learned faster than he imagined possible,” I tell him.

“I am so proud of you, Uido.” He lifts me onto his shoulders and carries me to the center of the clearing before he sets me down on his lap.

A fire is already lit and I smell roast boar and turtle stew. I take a deep gulp of air, swallowing the wonderful scent of cooking as men, women and elders buzz around me like bees on a hive. “Welcome back, Uido!” “How much bigger you have grown!” “Where is Lah-ame?”

I feel the joyous thump of Mimi’s heart as she clutches me tightly and pats my cheeks with her slender fingers. “You are thin as a twig!” she says, blind to the muscles bulging on my arms and legs. “Did Lah-ame feed you nothing at all?”

“But Mimi,” I say, “the training was wonderful. Truly.”

“We must fatten you up,” she says. “I will see to that.”

Kara folds me and Mimi in his arms, while Tawai squeezes himself in between our legs. It feels wonderful to have my family wrapped around me, until I realize that Ashu has not joined us. Nor has Natalang greeted me yet. As my people pass me from lap to lap, I search for the two of them among the crowd.

At last, Natalang bounces over. She remains standing, but I am so happy to see her that I jump up. “You are not still angry with me, are you?” I ask.

“No,” she replies, but she makes no gesture of affection that shows we are friends. “Welcome back, Uido.”

I feel stung by her stiff tone. I want to say something to make it all right again between us, but she steps away and one of Kara’s hunters snatches me up in his lap.

Then I see Ashu, sitting close to the bachelor hut. Like Danna, Ashu wears the scars of manhood now. He does not look up from the bone knife he is sharpening with a piece of
tolma
crystal. But I refuse to be angry with him. I break away from the others, run toward him and put a hand on his back.

Ashu keeps chipping at the bone knife, pretending he does not notice my touch. His body feels hot, and I sense his resentment smoldering like the embers of a fire.

“Ashu?” I say.

Without a word, he pulls away and stalks off into the darkness of the jungle.

Mimi comes up to me.

“Why does Ashu hate me so much?” I ask her.

“Perhaps he is a little jealous, Uido.”

“Of what? My time with Lah-ame was not all easy.”

“You must not let him upset you. Come.” Mimi takes my hand and leads me back to the others. “The food is ready.”

Mimi sits with me, making sure I eat a lot. It is so good to feel meat on my tongue again. I linger over each bite. And even better than the taste of the meat is the feeling of sharing and eating together with my tribe again.

Ashu returns to join the circle, but sits far away from us. Everyone else—Tawai most of all—crowds around, asking about where Lah-ame took me and what we did together. I tell them some of the stories I learned from Lah-ame about our tribe’s past—but nothing about my walks on the spirit paths, worried that speaking of this would push my people away and make them feel I have grown strange. When I ask about all that has happened while I was away, everyone is happy to gossip and I to listen.

After we clean our hands and teeth, Kara pours the embers from the fire into torches to keep it alive because Lah-ame still has not returned to the village. For an instant, I want to tell him that he does not need to because I can start a new fire now. But I say nothing, unsure if it is my place yet to start fire for the tribe.

When he is finished with the fire, Kara brings out Lah-ame’s drum and beats a dance rhythm in celebration of my return. In a few moments, everyone is either singing or dancing or else slapping their palms against their thighs to show how happy they are to see me again. Danna pulls me onto my feet and into the circle of dancers. Natalang’s oldest sister makes a place for us, throwing an arm lightly across my shoulders. Yet I hardly feel her touch with Danna close by me. I slide my hand around his sturdy waist, savoring the new feelings that ripple inside me every time we are so close.

Outside the bachelor hut, I see Natalang and Ashu sitting together. He tucks a red hibiscus flower behind her ear with a tenderness I never thought Ashu could have.

“Is that my brother?” I say. “With Natalang?”

Danna laughs. “Love makes even the fiercest hunters gentle.”

“Love?” I stare at Ashu.

Tawai squeezes himself in between me and Danna. “Dance with me, Uido!” he says. After that, I get no chance to speak to Danna again. Everyone in the tribe wants to dance beside me for a while—even the elders, who often prefer to watch rather than join in.

When the celebration is finally over, Ashu and Danna walk toward the bachelor hut with the other ra-gumul boys and I return to ours with Tawai and my parents.

Tawai unrolls his mat next to mine. “Did Lah-ame teach you how to look into the future?” he asks.

“I can try to see ahead if I must,” I reply. “But it is far better to wait for the messages the spirits send us.”

“So can you tell if the strangers will be back?”

“Probably, now that Pulug-ame has calmed the waves again,” I say. “Why? Are you worried about them?”

“I want to see Ragavan again.” Tawai sighs. “I asked the elders about the strangers’ world but none of them will tell me much.”

I say nothing, wanting to end the conversation.

But he goes on. “I wish their island was closer so we could swim over and see how they live. I hope they come soon, now that the rainy season has ended.”

It concerns me that Tawai’s curiosity seems to have grown, like moss spreading across a damp rock. Then I remind myself that I, too, was curious about the strangers. And listening to the sweet sound of Tawai’s breath, I fall asleep.

T
he next morning I hurry to Natalang’s hut, hoping to go gathering with her. To my surprise, although I am early, she has already left for the jungle. I twist and untwist the bark strap of the empty gathering bag hanging from my shoulder, wondering unhappily if she and I will ever be friends again. Standing by myself inside the circle of round huts, I feel lonely.

But an instant later Danna walks up and takes my hand. His palm is dry, his grip strong. At his touch, my heartbeat quickens. I feel as though a hummingbird is fluttering inside my chest.