The colossal drake had swum away beneath the steadying waves. The sea began to flatten out.
Before long, Paku eyed an area of commotion on the water’s surface a few dozen metres ahead. It looked like splashing!
At first, he suspected it was the colossal drake again. No- too much splashing. It had to be fish.
“Bya! Bya!” Paku shouted, pointing ahead. “Over there!”
Bya-Iam spotted where Paku was gesturing towards, squinting to make sure it was a worthwhile target and using his hand to shade from the sun.
“Lower the sail, ready the nets,” Bya-Iam ordered. The crew scattered to do as requested, preparing for the hunt ahead.
The splashing area of water was most likely a large school of moonfish- a potentially great catch for the day, if successful.
“Paku,” Bya-Iam said, pointing, “come around this side. We will circle them.”
“Yes, Bya!”
Paku felt a rush of joy as he and Bya-Iam navigated in unison to turn the catamaran in an elegant dance of muscle, wind and water.
Paku hit one of the pedals at his feet, releasing the tightly wound vines beneath the deck of the Silat, activating the fins on the sides of the catamaran. The flap-like fins swung out to help create drag against the oncoming water.
The Silat slowed towards the school of fish and eventually came to a stop. Their positioning was perfect. Paku had hit the pedal at the exact right time, far enough away so as not to startle the fish, but close enough that they could begin throwing their nets.
The fishers of the crew readied their long nets, unwrapping them and handing them across from one person to another to combine their strength in the throw. Small stone weights dangled from the edges of nets.
In one graceful move, the fishers cast their huge nets into the air. They threw them all at once, to catch as many fish as possible before the others swam off with fear.
They waited a moment for the splash and the stone weights to drop before reeling in the nets in unison. Just like they had practiced their entire lives, helping one another bring the catch back to the deck.
Dozens of large moonfish flopped around as they were pulled from the water. Their silvery-white scales shimmered in the bright sun as they gasped for air.
The fishers stepped aside, and the collectors pulled the catch from the nets, storing them in dried seaweed baskets.
Paku breathed in a deep breath, smiling with pride. He had done it- he had successfully led the Silat to a catch.
It was a momentous feeling.
As the next batch of fish were drawn up, Paku heard his brethren mumbling to themselves.
“Oh no… not again.”
“What is happening to our fish?”
“Yunafa curses us.”
Paku went over with Bya-Iam to see what all the fuss was about. A fisher named Enda turned with a moonfish in his hands, presenting it to the Bya.
Paku winced at what he saw.
The fish was disfigured, with only one shrivelled fin. Its scales were rotten and flaking off despite it still being alive. Its eyes were bloodshot and its gills malformed.
The stench the fish gave off was horrific.
The other fishers looked among the catch. Most of the moonfish had similar ailments. Rot, mutilations, disease.
“Why does Yunafa curses us so?” a fisher asked.
The young men all looked to their leader for any semblance of hope but Bya-Iam only shook his head, unable to answer.
The fish began dissolving into a gelatinous mess in Enda’s hands as it died.
“Another wasted effort,” someone sighed.
“If this continues, we will starve,” another said.
The Bya opened the seaweed baskets, only to see the rest of their catch suffering the same fate. None of this catch were free from whatever ailed them.
“We must join the other clans. We must trade with the easterners,” Enda begged the Bya. “My family is starving.” The rest of the young men argued between themselves over what options they had left.
Paku’s stomach rumbled.
All the recent talk of trading with the landwalkers had gotten him nervous. He did not know how to feel about making contact with the Alyrians, as many of the other clans had resorted to the last several years.
Paku had never met one, but the Byas all told of their mischievous and greedy ways. Such profane assertions cannot truly be considered.
Yunafa would drown us for breaking our isolation and interacting with the landwalkers.
The boys argued. Paku could see Bya-Iam making drastic considerations in his head. Figuring out how to lead his people, and what he would say to the other Byas upon their return to the village.
Paku had not eaten a proper meal in two days. He did not know what the right way forward was anymore. He felt his heart sink like a stone in the water upon realising his first hunt had failed.
“Perhaps we should try some more catches?” Paku put forward.
“No,” Bya-Iam said. “We will only be met with further disappointment. Enda is right, we are starving, and our fish are dying. We will return to the clan and I will discuss our next move with the Byas.”
Some of the boys cheered in agreement, while some shook their heads and spoke out against such radical ideas.
Bya-Iam stomped his foot on the deck with a hard thud to silence them all. He gazed at them all, directly into their eyes, all the while his piercings glittering in the sunlight.
He said little but spoke it firmly. “The world is changing. We must change with it or we will perish. We shall sing to Yunafa for a swift return home.”
Paku wanted to have faith in the Bya and his
