---

Shape-changers are given a wonderful gift. They can meld their form into a single, beautiful creature, to reflect a stunning beast, a creature of the light. These people are wonders to behold as bone and flesh become scales, claws, and feathers of whichever creature they were born to be. And the truth is, I would have been one of them.

Well, I should have been. But I’m a little different.

I was born … misshapen.

And in a village of burning stars and rising suns, you are not easily forgiven for being different. Even if that difference was not your fault. Even if it happened to you before you were born.

Right now though, I look down at the squirming bird in my hands.

Rain droplets trickle through the surrounding leaves, leftovers from the recent downpour, chilling my clothes until they stick to my rugged back. The soft ruffling of feathers between my fingers grows desperate. A strangled croak escapes the bird when I gently tighten my grip around her, and I feel her heartbeat fluttering rapidly against my palms. “Shh, it’s okay little thing. Just hold still.”

Tearing the end of my shirt with my teeth, I then tie the strip of fabric across the broken wing, wrapping it snug against her body. With her flight feathers mangled and broken, it will take over a dozen sunrises to heal. Blood flakes my fingertips. I hold her up to my face and grin. “There, that feels better, doesn’t it?”

I perch cross-legged on the edge of the wooden rafter, lifting my gaze to peer through the tight, wet canopy. Golden light touches the tops of the hills, thunder grumbling from across the jungle valley below, clouds still thick across the sky. A breeze ripples the canopy enclosing me, carrying the salty tint of the waters stretching away, light glittering on its surface.

My heart catches in my throat as I watch it. If only I wasn’t messed up. If only I could shape-change like others, and use the wings I was supposed to have. To fly over the waters and explore the wild lands and never be seen again.

Free.

Instead, only two blackened, knobby stubs trace the skin of my shoulder blades where wings should have been. Black, oily scales run down my shoulders and the tops of my arms, and a long, scaly tail curls around my dirty bare feet. Half boy and half beast.

I am Jawko. The shape-changer that was born broken. Mangled … twisted … misshapen.

Maybe even cursed, I don’t know.

The tattered shawl flaps lightly across my shoulders, with the hood pulled down low to shadow my face. Hiding my eyes, one brown as mud and the other bright and clear as the waters and sky. A shiver runs up my spine, and I huddle deeper into the branches and leaves, wishing my clothes weren’t still damp. I should have hidden from the previous storm a little sooner. The hollow rumbling in my stomach begs for attention, but I try to ignore it. For fifteen years, this has been my existence, though. Not a bad one.

Just a little lonely?

I watch the greenish-grey bird in my hands, gently stroking the feathers along her back. I am known only by the tiny creatures I find and fix. “Well, at least I’ve found someone to listen.” My mouth quirks up. “Am I right?”

The bird wiggles, and her edged beak bites down hard on my thumb.

“Ouch!” I jerk my hand away and suck the back of my bleeding finger, tasting as much dirt as blood. Maybe I should wash my hands sometimes. Then I shake my head and laugh. “What was that for? I’m trying to help you.” She chirps and ruffles her feathers. “I know … we’re both stuck here for now, aren’t we?”

Tugging my gaze away from the waters and hills, I suck in a breath. My stomach tightens into a gnawing, empty knot. Time to eat. I gently slide the bird into a pouch tied at my waist, feeling her warm body slip from my fingers. Then I strip the nearest branch of leaves and warm them in my hands before tucking them around her. “You’ll be safe in there for now.”

I stand up and leap off the wooden rafters in the canopy. Wind rushes past me before I land on a tall stone wall jutting upwards, draped in moss and vines slick with droplets, and then I drop down onto a thatched roof. My body tenses, and I land in a crouch, black scaly tail flickering behind me. Above, thunder grumbles across the slowly darkening sky. Looks like the rain may not have finished after all. The family beneath the roof is still asleep, as are most who live on the outskirts.

Yet the village down below is already bustling and alive like a hive of stinging honeybees. Men and woman, rattling carts, and creatures filling the dirt-paved streets.

Funny, I would actually rather risk the bee stings.

Memories flash across my mind. Hard hands striking me. Sticks coming down like whips, sharp enough to leave the scars now draping my sides, hiding beneath my thin shirt. The names they called me were worse than any blows I’ve received, though. Words sting deeper, into the darkest places.

Still, I have to eat.

It’s all just part of the game. In and out and never be seen. Because to them, I am only a shadow and a rumor. A story to warn kids not to wander far from home, not to step foot in the jungle.

And that’s all that I intend to stay.

I let a grin spring to my face as a chill breeze brushes the ends of my shawl, skies rumbling with the thickening clouds. The rain, I can taste on my tongue. A buzzing energy pulses around me with the threatening skies.

I must be quick.

Silent as a shadow, I leap between the thatched rooftops, spiraling stone walls, and thick branches hanging low enough, making my way down into the heart of the village. The thick jungle trees and vines crumble away, now leaving my thin, dirty shawl as my only protection. It is the last remnant of a mother I scarcely remember, worn and tattered as my memories of her. Yet I will always treasure it, and keep it close. Throughout my life, it’s the only thing I’ve had to hold onto.

Finally, I land on a roof at the edge of the market.

Holding my breath, I crawl forward and settle on a narrow ledge, the larger roof hanging over me. Shadowing me. Protecting me. From here, I scan the market streets clearly, only a leap above them, and yet no one sees my huddled body hunched in the shadows.

Don’t be seen. And don’t get caught. It’s all just a big game …

In which you’re never found.

Voices ring out in the musical din of chittering birds, little ones laughing and winding through the stands, and women arguing, while large hairy creatures pull the rattling carts through the swarms of people. This is life. This is the swell of living and breathing as a creature who belongs with others.

Yet always I will watch from the shadows.

The tattered hood slides down further over my mismatched eyes.

That familiar ache tugs at my heart, even as the corners of my mouth tilt up. My favorite of all people to watch are the little ones. With faces full of joy, no cares in the world. For hours I have hidden and studied them, until I know every rule of their silly games, and each little thing that brings smiles or tears.

A sharp cramping in my stomach brings me back to the painful reality of hunger, cold, and skies threatening with the coming storm. The air is warm and tingles against my skin.

When I scour the stands, I catch sight of juicy yellows and sunset oranges, as well as the scarlet reds and thick, leafy greens of fruits heaped on a table across the market street. Steaming meats roast on spits and juices drip to the ground, mixing with the fruits and spices. My stomach gnaws at my insides. Saliva thickens in my throat.

Then chills crawl slowly up my spine when I see the massive, crumbling hole cut into the ground on the edge of the stands. One of the village wells, filled with the shallow ground waters below. It’s a long fall. More than one thief has been caught and held dangling over the edge by an angry vendor, only to be sent hurtling to the bottom.

I’ve seen it happen.

I’ll just … have to be careful.

Heart pulsing in my head, I slide out from the rafters. Shadows dance across my hunched body as I pull myself onto the thatched roof, hay drizzling the ground. I crawl forward before pausing in a coiled crouch at the end of the jutting wooden beam hanging over the street below.

Their eyes are all distracted with themselves. Slowly, I edge out of the shadows, wind flapping the frayed ends of my shawl and tugging at my hood. Thunder grumbles across the sky, clouds thick and dark overhead. My limbs tense up, and I spring.

A gush of wind meets me, an exhilaration of flying midair tingling through my veins, before I land lightly on the next beam jutting from the other side of the market. Then I duck below the hang in the roof. No one saw me. Always, I will remain only a shadow. A story that was often told, but never known.

Thunder shakes the rafters, making them tremble beneath me, and I twist around to see the vendors throwing up canvas tents over their stands.

No, not yet!

Please, I have to snatch something before you put it all away.

Holding my breath, I grip the edge of the rafters and drop to the ground in an alleyway. My bare feet touch the dirt. Leaning back, I press against the cool stone wall, my tail wrapping around my hunched body. Another deep rumbling fills the sky, and then a droplet patters lightly against my cheek. More soon follow, soaking into my thin clothes as rain sprinkles down into the market.

This will make things more difficult. People are already scrambling away, clustering beneath rooftops and stands, and soon a lone shadow on the streets will be easy to spot.

Panicked voices suddenly break my thoughts.

A scream rips through the air.

Voices shout in confusion, and my heart leaps into my throat as I drop to the ground in the shadows. Did someone see me? They must have seen me.

But as I huddle against the dripping wall, a small crowd thickens around the mouth of the well on the edge of the market, now only a few leaps away from me. Was a thief caught? Were they about to dangle him over the crumbling edge?

Rain beats down on my back, soaking my thin clothes and sending a shiver through my body. Those well waters can rise quickly in rain like this. It doesn’t take long. And if a man is hurtled down there, he may not be able to escape before …

My gut tightens into a sickening knot.

As I watch however, no sorry thief is brought forward kicking and screaming. Instead, the people are pressing on each other to peer down into the well. Why? What’s down there?

I perk up and strain to hear snatches of conversation but can’t catch anything. Taking a silent breath, I leap across the thin alleyway, rolling into a crouch against the opposite wall. I gently ease up against the wall and press closer, now only a stone’s throw away from the pit.

A deep, rumbling voice carries above the murmuring crowd and to my straining ears. “… no, it’s a little girl. She must have fallen in.”

My heart plummets into my stomach.

No.

Not a … little one.

“There’s no way to get down there quickly,” another man’s voice cuts through. “Not before the well fills up.”

I tug at the end of my dripping shawl and pull it tighter around my shoulders. How did this happen? No parent around here lets their children go anywhere near those pits. Pressing harder against the stone, I slowly edge closer and watch the people gather tighter around the opening in the ground. Yet no one tries to climb down.

Why aren’t they trying to help her?

I shift my weight to the other foot, tingles running up my spine. Is she okay?

Cold rain seeps into my clothes, mud pooling at my feet. Hiding with my head low, this is how I’ve learned to survive the words, the stares, the ridicule. The pain of being different. This is the only way for me to exist. And right now, I can’t dare risk that. But when I close my eyes, I can imagine the huddled body of the girl trapped down there, and my heart drops deeper into my stomach.

“It’s too dangerous to climb down there, especially now …” one woman mutters, droplets falling from her pointed chin. “And, well … she’s from the eastern villages anyway.”

The sinking feeling in my gut dissolves into cold numbness. They’re just going to … leave her down there? Because she’s from a worse-off village?

The tugging inside me grows stronger.

No.

Pulling myself back, I shake my head at myself. If I go down there, everyone will see me. They’ll catch me as a shadowing thief, but worse, as something they don’t understand. Something they want to hurt. Instead, I lift my eyes and watch, waiting. For someone to go down there to the little girl. For someone else to jump in. A parent. A friend.

Yet no one moves.

No one stands up to be the hero.

The well waters will swell and fill up in moments, leaving her trapped.

My heart is a steady rhythm against my chest, pounding in my ears with each gentle beat. Swallowing a deep breath, I close my eyes. A light, rain-battered breeze ruffles the edge of my shawl, tugging at the hood covering me.

Slowly, I stand up.

Then I take a trembling step from the shadows of the alleyway, and into the dark, drizzling streets stretching before me towards the whispering crowd.

---

At first, no one sees me.

When at last a few villagers glance over their shoulders, and they begin spinning around, people stare at me with eyes wide. I know there is no going back. Mutters run through the crowd like a stream through mud, rippling and trickling over the ground before soaking in “What is that thing?” “It’s some kind of animal …” “Is it that creature we been hearin’ rumors aboot?”

Every fearful, angry, curious gaze is trained on me. Men, women, and little ones pull back into each other, while others tense and take a step forward as if I might attack.

A shocked gasp erupts as one person recognizes me.

“It’s that twisted shape-changer …”

Flapping lightly against me, the tattered hood hangs low over my face. I step forward, the rain soaking me, and the crowd parts quickly once they’ve seen who I am. No … once they’ve seen what I am. A mingled human beast, with one eye the color of mud and the other as clear as the wild waters. With a black scaled tail brushing the muddy ground at my feet. With flaky, hardened scales running down my upper arms. I swallow the thickening lump in my throat, trying to ignore the tingling of a hundred eyes boring into me, staring through my thin shawl, me weak attempt at hiding from this world.

Then I step up to the edge of the pit.

Hunching down, I peer into the blackness at the jagged, crumbling sides falling down to the bottom where dark waters tremble in a thousand ripples with the pounding rain. I search the shadows, each lump and wedge, unable to find her. My heartbeat quickens. Please let her be okay. Please …

But I don’t see a thing. What if the waters already swelled too far? Was she not able to keep her head above it? I search every shadowy crevice of the walls, every dark lump in the waters, every bulging stone along the walls. She’s nowhere to be seen. A knot curls in my gut. What if she …

Then my gaze lands on a small figure. Huddling against the far side, hugging her legs, is the little girl. Water swirls around her knees, and it’s rising quickly. She lifts her head and stares up at me with wide eyes, her body tense and trembling.

My heart freezes when I meet that gaze.

There’s no time to waste.

Dropping to my hands and knees, I grip the jagged, crumbling rocks and turn around, easing myself over the edge. Whispers ripple through the crowds still pressing close, yet no one speaks up or steps forward. No one tries to stop me.

My hands grow slippery with the rain dragging me down, slickening the moss and vines coating the stones until it’s all I can do to keep my grasp. My entire body strains with keeping me close to the jagged rocks as I slowly, slowly lower myself down into darkness. A loose stone slides beneath my foot. With a sharp gasp, I clutch the thick vines to catch myself, feet dangling as the stone drops into the rising waters down below with a heavy plonk!

Gaining my footing again, I continue. Rain stings my eyes and blinds me, but I still force myself downwards deep into the pit. I have to reach the girl before the waters rise. Before they cover her head. Heart thumping against my chest, each breath sucks in as much water as air.

Then my feet drop into the cold water at the bottom.

I turn around.

From the shadows of my drenched hood, I catch sight of her. She is hunched against the rocks on the other side, her eyes fixed on me. Water gushes around her legs, already swelled since I started my climb. I have to hurry. Gently, I slush through the cold waters towards her, but when I close in, she lets out a soft whimper as she pushes away. “Hey, hey shh. It’s okay.” I hold my hands up. “I promise I’m here to help you. I won’t hurt you, little one.”

The girl shakes her head, body trembling. Hugging her legs tight, blood seeps through one hand and drips with the rain into the dark waters. I catch my breath.

She’s hurt.

I lift my gaze to meet hers, watching her expression as she takes in everything about me. Curiosity flickers behind the fear in her gaze, though. She looks between my different eyes before glancing down to the tail flickering around my legs. “Yeah,” I say softly with a smile, crouching down in the rising waters until I’m eye level with her. “I know I’m a little … different looking.”

Her gentle face is fixed on me. I take a small, tentative step closer.

A crack of thunder suddenly grumbles from the opening high above, shaking the ground beneath us, and she lets out a startled cry before huddling further away. Her eyes grow wide, panicked, breath coming fast as she clutches her arms tighter around herself.

I know that fear.

It would grip me when I was little and hiding from the same storms. But I had no one to hold me. No one to tell me everything would be okay The rain beats down harder, sliding across the rugged rock walls and swelling waters. It’s nearly covering her legs now. She’s still too scared, and in pain. I need to get her out of here. Now.

How can I make her trust me?

Water surges around my legs, steadily rising, but I keep my eyes on her.

Then, I know.

Dipping a hand into the pouch at my side, I gently pull out the little bird I’d bandaged before the sun had risen. She ruffles her feathers, cocking her head to peer up at me with one black eye. I shield her with my body and hold her close to my chest.

The little girl lifts her head.

Scooting forward gently, I hold my breath as I draw near. She doesn’t push away this time. “I’m helping her too. She broke her wing and I had to patch it up.” I cup the ball of feathers and hand it out to her. “Would you like to hold her for me? Keep her safe?”

A heartbeat, and then she gives a quick, hesitant nod. Her eyes shine brightly despite the lingering tears. “Y-you save her?”

“Yeah.” I drop the bundle of feathers into her little hands. “See? She’s broken too right now, but she’ll heal eventually. And then she’ll fly away. But she had to let me help her first.” The girl clutches the bird close to her chest, then looks up at me. I stand only a breath away from her now.

I look into her soft eyes. “Don’t you want to fly?”

Her gaze is fixed on me. A soft wisp of hair falls beside her face, and she brushes it back behind her ear again. Then she nods.

Confusion meddles my thoughts. How could they have just left her down here? She is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. If this is how they treat a perfect, innocent little girl …

I offer her a smile “There we go.”

Then I breath in deeply. With one trembling hand, I reach up and grip the tattered shawl across my shoulders. And I pull it away. The rain grows sharper when it beats against my ragged shirt and the dark, exposed scales running down my arms, slick with rain. Reaching out gently, still terrified of startling her, I pull the girl half out of the frothing waters and into my lap. I wrap the shawl around her bleeding leg and tie it tight. “You’re pretty brave, you know that? Alright, do you think you can climb onto my back?”

Nodding, she wraps one small arm around my neck, undaunted when she touches the oily scales there. I hold my breath and turn gently, letting her lay across my back while I claps my own arms behind me to support her weight. She clutches the little bird in her other hand. I stand up, the rain dragging me, and I splash towards the end of the jagged wall. The waters surge around us.

Grabbing onto the stones and vines, I begin the climb up.

With the stinging rain in my eyes, I blink hard to glimpse the crevices and grooves to place my hands and feet, clutching tightly. My breath grows ragged with the added weight, but I carry on. Don’t you dare slip now.

The girl hangs tight to my neck, her soft breath tingling.

We’re almost out of here.

And my heart drops deeper inside of me with every footfall upwards. I know what awaits me. At least the girl will be safe. I swallow the lump in my throat. She will be safe …

Deafened by rain and the blood pulsing in my ears, I finally crest the edge of the hole and fumble for a grasp to heave myself up. At last other hands hurry to help, ripping the little girl off my drenched back and pulling her to safety. The jostling knocks me back. I scramble desperately on the edge for a heartbeat, lungs tight as I hang with my feet kicking air. When I finally lodge my foot into a rocky crevice, I push myself the rest of the way over the ledge.

I collapse onto the ground.

Water and mud swamps beneath my body, but I’m too exhausted to rise. Too tired to care.

Then I feel a soft hand on my cheek, and I force my eyes to open and look up into the gentle face of the little girl. She leans on her hands and knees, mud soaking her bandaged leg. In one small hand she clutches the bird, the grey-green feathers sprinkled with droplets. “Tank you.”

I manage a weak grin. “You’re very welcome.”

Shaking, I stagger to my hands and knees, panting for breath.

Then a sharp pain slams into my side. A yelp rips from my throat, and rough hands snag my hair, jerking my head back. I gasp with the sudden pain shooting through my neck. Warm breath tickles my ear from the men’s voices as they lean close and shove me to the ground. The girl cries out, but others grab her and pull her back. When I struggle, a boot slams hard into my ribs.

A sharp yowl escapes my lips.

An animal sound.

Memories flash through my mind. Hard hands striking me. Sticks coming down like whips, the words spewing from their mouths as their raining blows come down. The images in my mind meddle with the throbbing pain now coursing through my huddling body.

This is how they will always see me … I clench my eyes shut, gasping. This is all I will ever be. I am a beast to be broken. Mangled, twisted.

Misshapen.

A boot flies into my head, and the ground swarms beneath me. Hot pain stabs behind my eyes, my vision blacking out and blurring before snapping back into focus.

I suck in a breath. And then suddenly, it all stops. Or at least, the feet causing it stop. The pain is still there in every aching, quivering part of my body. A deep voice rumbles above the drizzling rain and voices of the men, but it blurs beneath the pulsing drumbeat in my head.

Hesitantly, after several pounding breaths in my tight lungs, I risk a glance upwards. A man is standing over me. His thick white beard flows across his shoulders and chest, and he clutches a curling walking staff in one hand. His shadow looms across my huddled body, droplets dripping from his hair, and his eyes lock on me. They are clear and milky white.

His thick eyebrows scrunch up when he looks back at the crowd. “Why are you hurting this boy?” The voice sounds almost … exasperated. Confused. “Didn’t he just save my girl?”

At his side, the little girl clutches the hem of his shirt, pressing close to him. Drenched in the mud, slushing water, and blood dripping from some wound, I shiver violently. Curled around myself, I am unwilling to rise. Instead, I remain huddling at his feet.

“Save her?” A raw, gravelly voice scoffs. One fruit vendor steps forward, apron tattered and fists curled tight at his sides. Her jerks a thumb at me, and I flinch. “This – thing – was probably about to eat her. It’s stolen from all over the market, comes in the shadows and then it’s gone, and all we catch is a devilish glimpse of it. Whatever it is … it’s cursed.”

Eat her? Really?

With the eyes burning into me from every direction, I swallow hard. Now without the shawl to cover even my black-flaked shoulders, I’m utterly exposed. Out in the open for all to see. Dropping my gaze to the ground, I close my eyes.

“He’s only a boy.”

“Maybe you can’t see right,” one woman offers. “It’s … it’s not natural. Something’s gone wrong with it, and there’s nothing we can do to fix it. It looks as much a boy as I do.”

The man tilts his shaggy head and shrugs. “So?”

Silence stretches above the rumble of rain. Deep and thick as the air itself, yet no one has anything to say to that. Rain speckles off the man’s white beard, his face a stony calm like the waters beneath a storm. He lowers his thick eyebrows over those glassy eyes, patiently waiting for anyone to step forward and open their mouth. Instead the vendors shift on their feet, women avoid his gaze, and one by one people turn and disappear into each other through the thinning crowd.

I shiver from the ground where I lay. Then I feel a thick, warm hand on my shoulder, undaunted by the cold black scales tracing my skin. I look up into the face of the giant man, and he lifts me up gently. “Thank you for going down to save her.”

Staggering to my feet, I slowly pull myself out of the mud to stand.

“What is your name, boy?”

The voice is raw and deep, a rumble with the thunder above. Hesitantly, I lift my head to those clear, milky eyes fixed on me. I tremble with the droplets dripping from my hair, from my drenched and baggy clothes, mud soaking my pants up to the knees. My tail curls softly at my feet. “M-my name is … Jawko.”

His steady gaze lingers on me a moment more, and I realize his eyes don’t follow as I shift. Then I suck in a breath … he’s blind.

The man tilts his head. “That was very brave of ye, Jawko.”

“Is she your …” I hesitate, eyeing his white hairs and wrinkles across his forehead. Then I swallow. “Daughter?”

He belts out a laugh, full and deep. The rain has softened to a light drizzle, thunder grumbling over the distant horizon. Light filters through the wet, hazy air, and he looks down at me. “Nah, I’m much too old for that. That girl lost her parents a long time ago, and I took her in.” His smile is gentle and warm. “My name is Eno. You know, Jawko … I’ve actually been looking around here for someone like you. A young man to sail with me to the distant lands, with a strong back and good eyes. Someone brave and reliable.”

My heart skips a beat in my chest.

Then it sinks and settles in the pit of my stomach like a stone. He must be fooling me. If he can’t walk without a staff to guide him, how can he navigate the waters? Yet … he saved me from the crowds, and he defended me. In those clear eyes, I feel a gentle peace like the surface of the waters, strong and secure. I want to trust him so badly. Yet I shift my bare feet, fear grappling my spirit. “How do you sail if you can’t see?”

“Ah …” Eno lifts his face to the skies, the soft rumbling a reminder of the rain. Clouds roll across the sky while early morning sunlight fights to break through. “You don’t have to see the sky to smell the rain, or to hear thunder. Everything else in yer body knows. I don’t sail with my eyes, but by the hand of the Maker. I know the smells of the waters, the gentle tug of a fish.”

I drop my gaze. The words stick to my tongue like thick mud, regret already pooling in my stomach. “I’m sorry. But I … can’t leave.”

“Do you have something to stay here for? In the streets?”

I swallow the lump in my throat and try to force a laugh. “No.” Droplets slide down my arms, a light wind tugging my thin shirt. He may not see my mismatched eyes, or the ragged clothes, or the tail tracing the mud, yet that is all I am. “No. But you would not want me if you could see me.”

The little girl takes a step towards me, her bright eyes lifted. The bird chirps in her hand, possibly clutched a little too tightly, but the girl reaches the other hand up to clutch the end of my wet shirt. “I want you. You save me and the bird.”

The old man rubs his thick beard, smiling softly. “Oh Jawko. You have so much life ahead. I don’t think you even realize. You shouldn’t be here wasting yourself away.”

Wasting away. Hiding as an outcast in the shadows.

But that is all that I know.

It is familiar, and safe.

Traveling across the waters has been my deepest hope, but now that it comes to it, I don’t think I can do that. I pull a step back, my breath coming faster. “No, you don’t understand. I’m broken and twisted. I don’t look like other people.” My voice softens to a whisper. “And they don’t need me out there.”

“Jawko,” he says. “This world doesn’t know what it needs. People complain and ask why it must rain, even when it’s the only way to grow fruit.”

Uncertainly, I glance up into the canopy half drooping above us from the scraggly trees at the edge of the market, their leaves blowing in an uncertain wind.

Then I stare at him.

Can he really be serious? My heart drives a pulsing thrum up into my ears, terrified to hope for what I hear. Taking a deep, slow breath, I ask, “Why would you want me?”

Eno tilts his head. A gentle smile crinkles around his eyes. “Because I may be blind. But today I’ve seen your heart.” The words drive like a dagger into my chest. My throat tightens, until I can barely suck in each breath. I try to blink back the sudden burning behind my eyes. “You aren’t broken, Jawko. No. Far from it. And whatever plans the Maker has for your life, I think they must be pretty special for him to have shaped you just the way you are.”

My chest grows thick. As if it’s filled with the sea, and not the broken heart of a boy that was never seen. Never loved. Never wanted because of what I am.

Why does it hurt so bad?

I swallow the thick lump in my throat. My heart dances a wild drum in my spirit, longing and fear and hope battling like a storm over the treetops. In all the years of my life, I’ve never met someone who saw me. Truly saw me. And something wakes up inside my spirit, something that had been dead for a long time.

“Yes,” I breath. My stomach flutters like the wings of a trapped bird, hands shaking at my sides as I look up into his clear eyes. The only eyes that have ever seen me. “Yes … I want to go with you.”

---

2 weeks later …

I toss my legs over the edge of the boat, landing with a thump! into the bottom. Waves splash against the side. Wood clacks from the boat tossing against the dock, men’s drumming voices bellow above each other as they haul nets dripping with fish onto the land, and the wind leaps up through the rustling canopy that shadows us and the rippling waters.

The hood of my shawl ruffles across my shoulders. Only now, the thin, tattered fabric is mended and clean, smelling like leaves in the rain. Still I will always treasure it and keep it close. It is the worn, yet slowly fading memory of where I come from.

Of who I am.

About to leave the only land I’ve known.

Eno lifts his milky gaze to where I crouch at the end of the boat, and he nods, smiles deepening the grooves of his face. White hair tussles across his shoulders. At the other end of the boat, the little girl, Kali, scampers to the edge, giggling.

Then he cuts the ropes binding us to the shoreline, waters splash against the sides in a liquid dance, and the boat rocks gently as he pushes it forward.

Heart leaping into my throat, I jump forward to scamper up the mast, wind tugging at my hair and clothes, filling my lungs. Wrestling with a wildness inside me that I can’t explain. I pull myself to the top above the small, rolling sail, and watch the sunlight peeking above the green hills, painting them gold as the waters ripple with specks of light.

Into the wild lands.

Free.

Groping a hand down into the old pouch strapped to my side, I pull out the ruffled mess of feathers, smiling as the bird smooths them back down and squawks at me. Gently, I unwrap the bandaged wing. She squirms, as if she knows what’s about to happen. Then I pull the strip of cloth away to flutter in the wind, and I hold my hands up. “There you go, little thing.”

The bird flaps her wings and shoots off into the sky.

I whoop and watch her disappear into a speck on the glowing horizon, sunlight dancing with the waves. The green hills rise around us and whisper the coming of a new day. Wind tousles my hair, playing. My heart is a steady rhythm in my chest, for once as loose as the land surrounding my small, huddled body. Tail curling at my feet, I take it in.

I am Jawko. Shaped by the Maker of the land and sea, wild and free as the wind and waves. And He made me to fly.

With the wings of the sunrise.

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