Miles woke to the growl of an engine.
Immediately he scrambled to his feet, rubbing the sleep from his bleary eyes as he stumbled out the door and down the path. He ran through the waving palm trees, following the sound nearly drowning out the soft shushing of the waves and the chirping of the waking birds. He nearly tripped on the sand as he turned in a circle, trying to see— there!
Miles gasped softly. As the rising sun cast the sky into pink and gold, its light reflected off scuffed red paint and a grey propeller. A real plane, flying, just like Mama had said. It even looked like the one she had always been playing with. Maybe… No. His tails drooped as he remembered their plane was still sitting outside their hut, parts strewn around it from his latest attempt at fixing it (he was definitely going to clean those up soon, promise). But still! A real, actual plane, flying and everything! Miles skittered back into the bushes as the plane drew closer, watching in wide-eyed awe as it descended from the air. His heart sank a little as he caught sight of the pilot. Blue fur, not red.
The plane finally coasted to a stop on the sand, not far from Miles's hiding spot. He flinched back as the pilot dropped down, wrapping his tails around himself nervously. The stranger might be someone not nice, like some of the kids in the village. Maybe he should leave. But Miles couldn't drag himself away. The plane, the real, actual, working plane, was almost close enough to touch.
He jumped at the sound of someone talking. It was the pilot, patting the plane affectionately. He was a blue-furred person a little taller than Miles, with a short tail, small ears, and spikes on his head and back. Miles couldn't tell what species he was. A tree porcupine that lost his tail, maybe?
Miles shifted, trying to get a closer look, then froze as the pilot's head swung towards him. The pilot spoke again, louder this time, but the sounds made no sense to Miles. It wasn't a language Rosemary or anyone else on the island spoke. The pilot paused, as if waiting for a response, then said something else, soft and warm. He stepped toward the bushes, extending a hand with a bright, friendly smile.
Miles flattened his ears, eyes darting between the hand in front of him and the forest behind him. His tails lashed with indecision. He wanted to go closer to the plane and to the friendly stranger, but what if the pilot didn't like him? The other kids didn't.
The pilot waited, patient, hand steady.
No. It was too dangerous. Miles backed away, shook his head, then turned and ran back to his hut. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw the pilot slowly lower his hand, ears drooping, and he almost regretted his decision. But then he shook his head. It was better for things to stay as they were. He was alone, but he was safe. The pilot would probably leave soon, anyway.
But… maybe he could sneak back and get a closer look at the plane. Miles's steps slowed as he considered. He'd be extra careful. The pilot wouldn't even know he was there, and even if he did, Miles would run away again. He was the fastest kid on the island, there was no way the pilot could keep up. Yeah, that was a good plan! Maybe he'd even figure out how to fix his own plane! Miles nodded, mind made up. He'd watch the pilot extra sneakily and see how his plane worked, and everything would be fine. The pilot would leave eventually, and nothing would change. That was the way it should be. Right?