PoraBora

Chapter Twenty-Seven

The fleet left. Hiding from them wasn't difficult, but maybe they weren't looking for him. Maybe they were looking for Pe. Pora pushed himself up from the oil and crawled back to his island. The ships were headed north. The way Pora had come. The way back to Pe's island.

And Tota.

Pora had to find his way back. It wouldn't be easy. It had been Bora to lead him here, and the shark hadn't waited around in the oil. The right direction was a good start.

Pora yawned. Hungered. But there was no sleep nor food to be had on his island. And no time to waste in getting back to Tota.

He couldn't swim that far, he knew already, so he pulled down a piece of his home, slid it down the hill, and tested it in the water. It was slick with oil, but better to sit on it than swim in it.

One of his water bowls, overturned and caught between two boulders, wasn't the ideal paddle, but it was what he had.

Pora pushed off into the oil. Every scoop of his bowl inched him forward and uncovered for only a moment the water beneath the sludge. The look beneath was the worst. Covered, he could pretend it was just on the surface. That things still lived below. That after a month of cleaning, he might even bring his island back.

He could tell it wasn't true.

He paddled port, starboard. The round disc slab of his home was not like the canoe that had brought him to his island. It was prone to twisting, spinning him in circles as often as moving him forward. It took an hour to get the hang of it, and hours brought him shortly to night, and eventually out and away from the oil.

His boat left a trail. Pora apologized, knowing he was spreading the pollutant but not knowing how to stop it. He had to get back to Tota, to save him, but how many fish did he doom by bringing the oil with him?

The seas were calm. It gave Pora a chance to curl himself into the shell and look up into the stars. The sky glowed like phosphorescent seas in colors and hues so vibrant it felt he was seeing all the universe at once. Tota could fly closer to them above, and Yuppa and Umba and the rest could swim closer to them below. Pora could only look.

I don't even deserve that much, he thought miserably. He should have pushed Yuppa back to sea so that he could make it to the stars. But how could he? He wasn't strong enough to move the giant turtle on his own. Nor could he stop the storm that had destroyed his home....

He couldn't help it. He had no choice but to wallow in his worst thoughts. Even wishing he could ignore them made him feel sharper guilt. Wallowing was what he deserved. The pain of his failures was his to carry forever.

Even his tears were probably oil, now. He didn't dare wipe them away and leave more on his face.

The seas were empty above. He saw no fins, no floats, and no birds. He worried putting his head below would only leave more oil behind. That too was his to carry.

Pora didn't know where he was going. He didn't know if he was still headed in the same direction, or even if it was the right one. He was reminded of when he had first left his home. He had spent weeks in his canoe, searching for the island that would become his responsibility. How far had he gone before he'd made his stop? He wished for his elders' wisdom now. But he was too young to go home. He didn't even know how he would, because he didn't know where it was.

Loneliness toppled him like a wave. But he couldn't come up from it. He didn't deserve to.

Something moved, even as Pora's eyes began to drift to sleep. He looked because he thought it might be Tota, healthy enough to fly and find him. But there was no bird.