Shadows Cast by Stars

forehead, leaving a smear of dirt in their place. He looks down at the water. “You can’t avoid going in forever, you know.”

I rip a thistle from the ground. “I know.”

“Today would be a good day. I’m hot and dirty. I could use a swim.”

“Tomorrow. Tomorrow sounds better.”

“Cass.” Bran turns toward me. “It’s been almost a month.”

He’s right. It has. I can’t avoid the lake forever. I pull my work gloves from my hands and throw them down. “Okay. Let’s do it.”

The wind dies as we make our way out along the dock. I stare down at the depths the entire time, looking for the shadow I know is there, but the only thing I see are dead fir needles, a sea of red giving way to silvered water farther out. Bran says nothing as I untie my shoes, sit down, and dip my legs in the icy cold.

I could stop there. Nothing says I need to conquer this today, but despite the glassy appearance of the lake, there’s a sense of urgency in the air. If I don’t do this now, I may never have another chance. I’m not sure why I feel so certain of this, but I do.

“Right,” I say to myself. There’s only one way to fix that. So with a deep breath, I tip myself off the dock and swim to the bottom. Darkness presses in on me as I remain there, treading water, waiting for the sisiutl. Here I am, I think. What are you waiting for?

The world above me is glass-bottle green. The dock sways to and fro and I can see Bran peering down, looking at me looking up at him.

Finally, when my lungs feel like they’re about to burst, I push off toward the surface, breaking the glass bottle into pieces.

Bran’s lying chest-down on the dock. “Wasn’t sure you were going to come up.”

I brush water from my eyes and swim toward him. “Me neither.”

He tries to smile. “At least the monster didn’t come back.”

“That’s what you think.” I reach out and pull him in. I don’t laugh. This is not a game. None of this is a game.

He surfaces and spits water at me. “I knew you’d do that.”

“I knew you knew.” I spit back and then, seized by impulse, I tug my shirt over my head. This is my lake. I claim it as my own, and nothing-not even the sisiutl- will harm me. My shorts come off next as Bran bobs and gapes.

“What are you doing?” he says.

“You wanted to prove the lake wouldn’t hurt me? Well, I’m showing you it won’t hurt me.” I dive, pushing through the water, shattering it with my body.

When I surface, Bran is gathering up my floating clothes. He puts them on the dock, and then adds his own to the pile.

“Wait for me,” he calls as I swim away, but I don’t. If he wants me, he’ll have to come get me. On land, Bran is master of his domain, like the stag who is king of the forest, but the lake is mine and I am its, and besides, I swim better than Bran. I toy with him, pausing just long enough to let him draw close. The moment his fingers graze my feet, I’m off, sliding through the water, melding with its currents. Slick like a seal. Flashing and fleeting, a salmon racing after prey.

Bran curses as he swims after me. I laugh and turn onto my back, floating naked under the sun, strangely unashamed.

We drift there a moment, golden and glorious, until his hand finds mine and he tows me toward a thicket of willow leaning into the water. His fingertips trace my body, marking the curve of my hips, the length of my arms, the rise of my breasts. I want to touch him, but I can’t. Something that is fear, and yet, deeper, older, nameless, has stolen my body. All I can do is tip my face toward the sun, close my eyes, and breathe as his hands wander over my skin. Don’t think, I say to myself. Don’t think. Just feel.

I try, but I can’t stop myself. Do I put my hand here? Should I put it there? Is that too forward? Not forward enough? I don’t know this dance. I want to let go, to let myself feel him, to let his weight fall against me, to give myself over, but I can’t. Every muscle in my body is tense as I fight-not against Bran, but against myself. What does this mean, giving myself over to him? What does this mean to him? Am I just another girl, or is it more than that?

“Cass,” he whispers in my ear, “we don’t have to do this.” He lifts his hand from my body and pulls away. “If you’re not ready, we can wait. There’s no rush.”

But there is. Just like the day of the earthquake when I kissed Bran on the lakeshore, I know that this is the moment. “I’m ready,” I say. I know what I want.

“Then,” he whispers between kisses, “do me a favor and stop thinking?”

And just like that, for the first time in my life, I do. I stop thinking, and just feel.

Sometime later, the siren starts.

Bran winces at the sound. “That’s the emergency signal,” he says, blinking. “Something’s happened. I’ve got to go.”

I reach for Bran’s arm. “Wait. Not yet. Please.”

But he’s already swimming away, and all I can do is swim after him.

We dress in our soggy clothes and jog toward town. The sound of the siren is muffled by the trees, but it’s still there, haunting our steps. We stop at the edge of town. Bran pulls me into his chest, kissing me hard. Neither of us want to stop, but Bran is the first to pull away. “If it’s a search, go into the woods,” he says. “Take Madda with you. I’ll find you.” He pushes me away and breaks into a flat-out sprint.

I wait until he rounds a corner, and then head toward Madda’s, steadfastly refusing to look at the skies. A search? A search here, on the Island? It’s not possible. How would they have gotten through the boundary?

Sparks begin to fly around my head. They’re thick and bright, clouding my vision so it’s harder and harder to see, but I must make it to Madda’s before they take over. I can’t risk losing myself here, in the middle of the road.

Madda is coming up her walk as I stumble through the gate. “Oh mercy,” she says, “what is going on?”

“I don’t know,” I mumble as she pushes me into the cottage. “Sparks. The sparks have come. I don’t know what they are.”

Madda makes me sit down. I hear the strike of a match and the snap of something catching fire. “Here.” She pushes a bundle of leaves into my hand. “Breathe. The smoke will ground you.” She bustles around the cottage, bashing into things as I inhale the sharp, musty scent of burning sage. “We don’t have time for this now,” she mutters. “You breathe in that smoke until I tell you not to, and nothing else, got it? Open your eyes.” She glares at me. “I don’t know what’s happening, and I can’t find out until you’re attached to this world properly. Here, put this on.” She shoves a strand of purple beads into my hand. “And don’t take them off until I say!”

I slip the beads over my head. Smoke wafts in my face, making my eyes water, but the sparks begin to float away.

Madda squints at me. “Better?”

“Just about,” I say.

“‘Just about’ will have to be good enough.” She pulls me to my feet, snatches the sage wand from my hand, and extinguishes it in a cup of water. “We’ve got to get to town. Who knows what ridiculous schemes they’ll have cooked up by now.” She throws the door open. “Honestly, there are times when I think I’m the only sane person left on this planet. At least you have a little sense about you.” She sets off at a clip so fast that I’m forced to jog to keep up. “Men don’t know what’s coming and going half the time. When the Elders aren’t jumping at their own shadows, they’re creating half-baked excuses to go blow shit up.” She stops, draws a deep breath, and then sets off again toward the longhouse.

For the first time, I catch sight of Madda’s shade. It’s not an animal. It’s not anything I’ve ever seen before. It almost looks human, but it’s not. I can make out swollen lips and bulging, bloodshot eyes. It’s… grotesque.

“Got a bad feeling,” she grumbles.

I’ve got to admit, I’ve got a bad feeling too.