PoraBora

Chapter One

Pora waded into the calm, turquoise waters. A slight breeze tickled his skin and he was cooled by a passing cloud's sudden shadow, but they were so short and small that in a moment he was soaking in a beautiful, blue day.

Even as he enjoyed the sun on his face, something bumped into Pora's shins and he glanced down.

"Good morning, Umba," he said.

The sea turtle pushed his head between Pora's legs, trying to shoulder through to get to the seagrass just below Pora's feet.

"Not here, Umba," said Pora, grinning, and he took his stick, just a foot longer than him, and gently guided the turtle north. "These grasses are still growing. This way."

Umba swam with the stick begrudgingly. The turtle's shell was perfectly clean, bearing its spots and marks, reddish browns, beiges, and greens. Its head and flippers sported scales of deep blue, and the separation of each was pronounced by thin lines of white that created a mosaic of shapes.

"Did Bora chase you over here?" Pora asked.

He found two more turtles where they weren't supposed to be as he moved Umba along. One needed nudging by the stick, but the other, Yuppa, knew better what Pora's approach meant and left his snack behind. All three of them swam in no particular rush ahead of Pora as he herded them onwards.

Pora could wade out a mile before the water overtook his head here off the western side of his island. The shelf was shorter to the east, and shorter still off the northern and southern points, where reefs had helped him find his bearings when he'd first taken up residence two years ago. There he had to step carefully lest he tear his feet or damage the polyps, but here his steps sunk comfortably into the peach-shaded sand and patches of soft seagrass.

They soon grew into vibrant, light-green fields, full and healthy enough to feed Umba and Yuppa and all the rest of his friends. Pora surveyed them happily, and surveyed the horizons too while he was at it. There was no sign of storms today. Perfect, Pora smiled. An opportunity to clean his clothes and perhaps even dry some fish. His water would leave the salt too, where he'd set it up on the rocks.

The turtles followed their mouths as Pora's stick left them alone.

Drifting slowly through the sunlight was a shark.

Bora appeared deeply brown in the warm sun, his vertical, dark stripes fading. He was over a dozen feet long, and save the scar that ran along his tattered dorsal fin, he was the very picture of health.

Pora should hope so. It took great effort on his part, especially when Bora would spend the better part of the year away, getting up to trouble and finding parasites. Unlike Pora, Bora had many homes and could travel the seas, following food and the right waters as he pleased.

If Pora traveled, the fields would be eaten and gradually die out. "Wouldn't they, Umba?" Pora gave the turtle's shell another nudge with his foot.

The turtles stayed well clear of Bora, hanging on the fringes of the field. The shark swam idly towards a couple, who just as idly kept their distance.

"Here," Pora told the turtles, who needed no invitation more than a stopping stick. He left them to eat as he went to Bora. The water was up to his chin now, making for plenty of room to maneuver. Pora pushed his stick into the sand and submerged into the quiet blue, swimming over to his partner.

The shark did not respond to him, allowing Pora to get close and rest a hand on his skin. Pora rubbed Bora's flank familiarly, enjoying the coarseness that provided a dry texture in the wet sea. Bora's blank, black eyes went white.