Beautiful Island

"Meu amor," the Portuguese man spoke gently, bending down towards the young girl, "what is your name"

The small child, whom he had ran into just a short while after exploring the island, looked up at him uncertainly.

"My...name?" She asked.

"Sim. Yes." He replied, nodding.

She looked down at the earth, prodding at the ground with a slippered foot. "I don't know" she confessed, blushing slightly.

The Portuguese man was suprised. "But you've been here for quite a while,  haven't you? Why wouldn't you have a name for yourself?'

She shrugged,  blinking up into the harsh sunlight.

"Well," he sighed, giving a small chuckle, "that won't do. We'll have to come up with something suitable for you."

"Mm." She replied, brightening up.

"Let's see...I must admit, I've been on this fortress for a short time." He said, facing towards the west. "But as far as I can tell, from moving throughout the area, that you have a lovely home."

She blushed, beaming with pride. "Yes! I'm glad you think so, too. It's really nice here."

"I bet!" He laughed, smiling down at the young gal. "Perhaps that should be your name, something that reflects the beauty of where you live.."

"Like what?" She questioned him.

"Hmm..how about...Formosa?" He responded after a minute's notice.

"For...mosa?" She replied, feeling the taste of the name on het tongue. It felt wild, and pretty.

"Formosa. 'Beautiful Island,' what you'd call it. It captures the serenity of your native land."

"Formosa," she uttered in a hushed tone. "I like it." She beamed shyly, glancing up at the older man.

"That's right," he chuckled. "Formosa, my beautiful island."