Island's End Read Free Page A

Biliku-waye and hearing the voice on the beach filled me with wonder, not just fear. I want to feel that way again.”
    “Curiosity to explore the Otherworld is good, but not enough. You will need more than curiosity to survive the training. Every apprentice faces tests that threaten their lives. Think it over, Uido. Carefully.”
    Lah-ame blows his breath on my cheeks, signaling that our talk is at an end.
    I linger on the cliff, hoping he will let me stay a little longer. I have so many questions about the Otherworld and training and spirits that no one but Lah-ame can answer.
    “You must return to the village now,” Lah-ame says.
    “But Lah-ame,” I say, reluctant to leave his side. “Will you not come with me? Our people will be anxious for your advice about the strangers.”
    “I will follow you soon enough, Uido.”
    I sigh and walk carelessly downhill, distracted by the possibilities open before me. A twig snaps underfoot as I enter the jungle, frightening a group of butterflies off a hibiscus flower. As they rise into the air like tiny rainbows, my thoughts soar up with them. I imagine carrying a pouch full of healing pastes and powders—just like the one that dangles from Lah-ame’s belt.

5

    I approach the village, my mind overflowing with questions about the oko-jumu life. When I enter the clearing, a drongo bird flies down from the laurel tree behind Lah-ame’s hut. Tseep-tseep-tseep - tseep , it whistles, its forked black tail bobbing over my head as if it senses my excitement.
    I look for my friend Natalang, with whom I go to gather food from the jungle every morning. The clearing is filled with babies’ cries and women’s laughter. Mimi kneels outside her youngest sister’s hut, combing my little cousin’s hair. My aunt sits nearby, suckling her baby. I greet them and ask if they have seen Natalang. They shake their heads.
    Natalang’s mimi spots me from across the clearing and calls out, “Come and wake my girl, Uido. She is still asleep.” Natalang has three older sisters. As the youngest girl in her family, she has very little work.
    I go over to her family’s hut, opposite ours. Natalang’s mimi is rolling wet clay between her fingers and stacking the coils one on top of another to shape a pitcher. “It is good you are Natalang’s friend,” she says. “If not, that last girl of mine would sleep all day.”
    I laugh and peer inside their hut. Natalang is sprawled out on her reed mat. Even with her mouth wide open, she is beautiful. Natalang’s cheeks are plump as a ripe fruit and every part of her body is round, while my cheekbones are too high and Ashu says I look like a skeleton with skin wrapped around it.
    “Wake up.” I poke Natalang’s soft arm.
    She rolls onto her side, knocking over one of the shell plates stacked beside the round wall. Her long eyelashes flutter and she yawns. “It is so early, Uido,” she complains, although it is not. “Why are you awake already?”
    “Something happened this morning,” I tell her.
    “Did Danna kiss you at last?” Her eyes widen with excitement.
    “Danna is only a friend,” I say.
    “Then why are you always in such a hurry to finish gathering?” She rolls up her mat and leans it against the curved wall. “We used to be together all the time. But now you want to be with him as much as possible.”
    Natalang hands me a bark bag for collecting food, picks up her family’s wooden water bucket and follows me out of the hut. I know she likes to circle around the clearing, gossiping with the married women and playing with their babies. But I pull at her arm and lead her straight toward the jungle.
    Natalang drags her feet, glancing back at the bachelor hut where young men live together when they are ra-gumul : the time that comes after they scar themselves with tattoos to prove their manhood but before they marry. It is the only hut without walls and we can see a few boys still preparing to hunt or fish, although most have already