Chapter 1: Leaving home

This was me. A girl. Big for a girl, but a girl. I could feel my mother's hand on my elbow, my father's on my back, pushing me forward; I stumbled and tripped. My brother threw something at me.

"This is the prettiest girl here?" the drifter said sarcastically. I'd never seen a black man before. Oddly enough, he didn't scare me. I was more scared of my family. "Your atoll is in a very bad state, then." He reached out and cupped my chin. I looked at him, curious. His face was shaped strangely, the top of the head sloping back. His hair was incredibly wiry and thick. "Young."

"Well, duh," I snapped. "The older girls are taken already."

"She, ah, will learn respect," my mother said hurriedly.

"Where'd you get the necklace from?" He touched it. I flinched.

"We traded."

"Really. It's worth more than everything else here except that." He pointed to the book on the shelf. "She'll do."

"She'll do what?" I asked. "I am here, you know." My father raised a hand to hit me and the drifter caught his wrist. "You want to trade? I don't buy damaged goods."

"I'm not a slave," I snapped.

"No," he agreed. "Grab your things."

"You have no place here now," my father told me. "Finally you can do us some good."

I looked at him, cold with rage and fear and resentment, and gripped our boat-hook lying near my hand and hit him with it as hard as I could.
He fell back bleeding and stunned. His leg was badly torn.

"You'll have to sell all your kids to pay your way as a cripple," I said. "You son of a bitch." I slammed the handle on his knee.

"You…!" My brother leaped at me and was back-handed by the drifter.

"Leave her alone," he said. "I protect what's mine. Grab your things."

I reached for the book, my fishing lines, my rope, my cooking and sewing things, my ink bottle and pens.

"You read?" he asked me.

"Yes."

"Good. I've always wanted to learn. Is that everything."

"That pot isn't yours," my mother said from the floor where she was weeping over my father. "It's mine."

"You said it was my dowry. I'm taking it and fuck you."

"Not much family affection here."

"They took me in for charity and never let me forget it."

"Sounds like you were never free."

"You're free when you die. Now get out of the doorway." He followed me down the ramp to his boat; I felt like I was walking to my execution. I saw everyone staring at me like a piece of filth.

My lips thinned. As I passed the headman, I paused and kicked him in the balls as hard as I could. "May you die slowly and painfully," I told him. "And soon."

"Why would you want her? She's a freak."

The drifter stared at the old man. "I like a fight. Do you?"

No one wanted to challenge a man more than six inches taller than any of us with muscles like rope and skin like night.

His boat was small, but larger than my family's room. I couldn't get away. If he wanted to rape or torture or kill me, my only option would be to jump overboard and swim away.

Then what? There was nowhere I could get to before I died for lack of fresh water.

"This way," he said. "Toss your bag down into the hold and take the boat-hook. Get us past those nets."

"Alright," I finally said, ready to cry. I bit my lip. This had happened so fast I had no idea how to react. I did what he said numbly. Perhaps if I did what he wanted he wouldn't hit me too hard.

He took the tiller and raised the sails. His boat was old, rickety, the kind that you're always fixing. I hoped he could keep it afloat.

The people on the atoll clustered on the edge to watch me go. I felt like a plague carrier.

"They really don't like you," he said mildly. "Why?"

"Does it matter?" I turned away and went to sit on the edge of the boat. I didn't want to talk to him. "Why?"

"You'll see. Don't get sunburned."

"Never do." That was a lie, but he didn't need to know that.

"Can you cook?"

"Yes."

"Good. Catch us some dinner, would you?"

I sighed and picked up a net on a pole. "Line fishing's next to useless this time of year." I looked around. "You got a spare coil of rope?"

He handed me one. "This'll do." Good, thick cord. I tied it off to a brace and jumped into the water. I smiled as I felt the water close. I'd never known how it happened. The gills behind my ears expanded as the water rushed in. It was a totally different sensation from breathing. The first time it happened, I nearly panicked. Then I learned to love it. I headed down, looking for fish.

There was a flock not fifty yards away. I swam over and caught a few. Cod. Good eating. I came back up, hauling myself onto the boat along the line as it picked up speed, dumped the fish, then went back down. A few more trips and we had enough for dinner and breakfast both.

He raised an eyebrow. "I can't hold my breath for that long." I ignored it and looked for a flat surface to gut the fish on. It was nearly dark.

It turned out the only electric gadget on his boat was a stove. It ran off a solar cell. He looked surprised when I knew how to use it.

"Is there anything you don't know?" he asked me.

"I don't know what you want."

He dropped down beside me. "Where'd you come from?"

"Why do you care?"

"If you're always so nasty, no wonder they wanted to get rid of you. I hope you brought a blanket. It gets cold at night."

"Does the word duh mean anything to you?" At least he hadn't hit me. I had no blanket. I used a spare bit of sail-cloth instead. At least he had that. He sighed and went below.

"It's going to rain."

"I know."

I woke several times during the night; he came up to trim the sails when the wind shifted. I just went back to sleep. Let him think I was a heavy sleeper. He didn't need to know I wasn't.

"Rise and shine," he called after dawn.

"That's the sun, not me." I got up anyway. "You're burning breakfast."

"You cook, then." I did and we ate in silence. He kept eying the sky. "What?"

"I was hoping it would rain again."

"Water?"

"Water." He looked at his supply. "There's enough."

"Enough for what, for me to die slowly?"

"Enough to get us home."

"Drifters don't have a home. That's why they're drifters."

"I'm a trader, not a drifter."

"Damn fine line." I looked around.

"Have some water." He handed me a small cup; I drank. "Need to piss?"

"No." I went back to sitting on the edge of the boat.

"Clean your teeth." I did, and combed my hair. Not that there was much to comb.

"How far away is your home?"

"About six days."

"Never heard of anywhere that close."

"It's not been there long."

"Many people?"

"No." Fewer people was bad. The more people the longer I could hide.

"You need anything?"

"If I did, I'd ask."

"It's not my fault you're here. Why are you being like this?"

"Am I supposed to just fall into your bed in an orgy of gratitude because you took me away from my home and turned me into a slave? I may not have had much there, but at least it was mine, and I was free." I turned away. "Go away. Touch me and I'll break your fingers." He took his hand away; he had been about to touch my shoulder.

"It's going to be a long and lonely six days if you're like this all the time."

"Suits me." I didn't want to talk to anyone. I wanted to be able to live in the salty sea like a fish, no humans to hurt me. Just sharks and big fish and rocks on the bottom.

If only I could stay down there forever.

Author's note: This was the first fanfic I ever wrote. I abandoned it for a while, and recently came back to it. I'm re-uploading it so it's in a readable format.