Masila

Masila

The bushes scrape and scratch at my dress. I'm falling every other step, knowing each stumble is costing me precious seconds. My boat could leave anytime.

What if I went the wrong way? What if this time I'm heading towards Tall Peak instead of the big water?

My facecover is falling from my face, and after chanting a quick prayer, I don't fix it, just keep running.

After all, no man is able to see me out here, away from the City and Villages.

I hear it in moments of my prayer. The gurgle and spitting of water as it tumbles over rocks and pebbles.

The big water. A burst of adrenaline erupts from every weary bone in my body as I push past the brambles and keel over as the last bush parts.

I stand in the darkness, brushing sand off my wrap that has left my legs visible from being shredded in the bush.

Sand clings everywhere as I stumble to the water's edge.

I don't see it.

"No..." I whisper, the word leaving my chapped lips slowly.

I start slopping through the water logged grains of sand. The endless water stretches out for as far as I can see. No boat. No grand yacht with streamers like my Ama said, nothing.

I start sobbing, using my sand covered head wrap to dry my eyes. After all this? The running, the injuries, escaping-

I see something in the water. It's big and dark, gliding through the turbulent waves as if they weren't there at all.

Is this majestic beast my boat? It looks so sure, heading towards the shore in utter blackness.

I start running, the sand not helping. I won't get to it in time.

But I trudge on, my eyes on the boat the entire time.

It gets bigger as I get closer and soon I am in a mere hundred feet of it.

It stops in the water. Have they spotted me? I scramble into the nearest brush and with wide eyes, wait.

The moon cast a light that seems solely on my dark entrothed savior. I pray again and when I open my eyes, men are flinging down into smaller boats in the water, small replicas of it's own.

They use brown oars to push through the rocky rapids to the shore and plod around while they drag their small boats to the sand.

I am mesmerized.

The tallest man reaches into his odd material pants and hands a folded piece of papaya to another man.

The other man unfolds it, then places a hand to his hip.

"Massilla?"

Wrong, I think. My Ama said my name isn't to be pronounced mass-illa. It is maús- see-a.

But I step out anyway.

And I say my name with absolute positivity. "Masila,"

_*NEWS*___

Cast was decided but I want to clarify that the ages of both Hania and Masila are the same, 16, so you moght want to imagine these cast people younger.

Only Hania and Masila has been decided. (Masila is above)

Masila- Aya Jones

Next chapter reveals Hania!

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