“Am not.” Lina knelt on the deck and proceeded to crawl back into the pile of bedding. There was a short rustling from the shrubs where Lina had just been. She froze in place. More rustling.
“Stay down,” Arabel whispered, turning the palm of her hand toward the cloud skimmer’s deck to illustrate.
Lina nodded and watched as Arabel bent slowly to pick up the push pole from the deck and grip it tightly in both hands.
Arabel whirled around, brandishing her makeshift pike.
“Ho, dere,” Lina heard along with another, louder rustling of shrubs and the slap of feet on stone. “I no danger. See? I bring basket. See? No danger.”
Lina dragged herself upright to look over the prow of the skimmer. There she saw the owner of the voice, not much bigger than the haploids Arabel had chased off earlier, with both hands on their basket, lifting it to eye level.
“What do you want?” shouted Arabel.
“I bring basket. See?” The newcomer lowered the basket and took a step closer.
Arabel responded by slashing the push pole through the air in a short arc before centering it again on the newcomer. “After you ate all our fruit?” Mighty generous of you.”
“Not ate. See?” The newcomer slowly opened the basket with one hand, held it up for them to see before setting it on the rock, bowing, and taking a step back. “Not ate.”
Lina peered over the prow to settle her gaze on a basket, now full to the top with deliciously ripe lychee fruit. Her mouth began to water. Even Arabel took her eyes off the newcomer just long enough to glance at it. Nothing was said for a few tense moments.
Arabel lowered the tip of the push pole just a bit. “What do you want?”
“To give fruit. Your friend, she powerful sick. Need to eat.”
“Then why did you take it from us in the first place?”
“Not I.” The newcomer’s vehement head shaking gave way to a wide sweeping of the arms. “Them.”
“Oh, right, them.” Arabel said in a tone that Lina found to be heavy with sarcasm, but the newcomer appeared to simply take at face value.
“Them. Yes. Them.” The newcomer spoke rapidly, eyes bright, seeming to be happy that they finally understood.
“Then, who are you?”
“I am I.” The newcomer smiled and took a step forward, head high and chest puffed—until Arabel lifted the tip of the push pole again. The newcomer gazed warily at the tip of the pole and shrunk back.
“And who are they?”
“They?”
“Them. Who are Them?”
“Mostly harmless. Old drones. Some young. Not many. I show Them how to collect fruit from tree. Them not know basket is not tree. I tell them and now basket is back. See?”
“Are you their queen?”
“I?” The newcomer chuckled. “I not queen, not like your friend. I am like you.”
Arabel shook her head trying to make sense of everything. “Where did you come from?”
“Where did you come from?” The newcomer’s head was cocked to the side now, clearly confused.
“Not me.” Arabel took one hand off the push pole to tap her chest. She then gestured to the newcomer. “You.”
“I?”
“Yes.” Arabel grumbled.
“I does not know. One day I is not here. The next day I is. Sent by Great Tree, I suppose.”
“The Great Tree? Sent you?”
“Yes. Sent to take care of Them.” The newcomer gestured to the area all around. “Them.”
“Them,” Arabel said. “And your name is I?”
“Yes.” The newcomer, I, stood tall, smiling bright. “I.”
“This would be so much easier if your name weren’t a personal pronoun. Can’t we call you something else?”
I looked confused. “I am I.”
“Okay, so that’s a no,” Arabel mumbled.
Lina, who had been lying on the skimmer’s deck, taking this all in, rolled onto her elbow and then hoisted herself to a cross-legged sitting position. She took a moment to catch her breath and then leaned forward to extend her hand over the prow of the skimmer.
“I?” Lina said. “My name is Lina. Will you share some of your fruit with me?”
I smiled, head bobbing, and reached into the basket to pull forth a wonderfully ripe lychee. I held it up for Lina to take while Arabel stood fast with a white-knuckle grip on the push pole.
Lina peeled the fruit and split it in two. She brought one half to her lips and held the other half out for I. Lina took a small bite and chewed slowly, making sounds to indicate her enjoyment. I did the same with the other half.
“Thank you, I,” Lina said. She turned to Arabel and gestured for her to put down the push pole.
As Arabel complied, I pulled another lychee from the basket, and smiling, held it up to Arabel. Lina turned her gaze to Arabel, brow raised. Arabel looked at Lina and nodded. I was invited to come aboard with the basket. Without words, fruit was passed among the three, who were soon laughing, fingers and chins sticky with drippings, bellies full.
“Thank you, I,” said Arabel.
* * * *
Lina sat bolt upright, opened her eyes and blinked. I and Arabel were seated by the mizzen sail, still pouring over the Book of Origin and having their animated discussion about the other islands in the area. Lina had checked out about the time Arabel pulled out the book. A belly full of lychee fruit, and the insistence that I had seen their arrival in a vision, were enough to make Lina give into the fatigue weighing on her body and curl up on the makeshift bed.
Lina’s sleep was not nearly as refreshing as she had hoped. More than once she awakened to visions—visions of the lightning storms again. The same majestic shows of nature that she had seen while out cloud sailing with her mentor. But rather than viewing from above, Lina was trapped inside the clouds as the lightening lashed out all around her. Forked tongues of orange, blue, and white reaching out, pulling,
