Celeste's Arc

Chapter 11 of 23

Celeste woke with a dry throat. She crawled from the shelter and blinked at the sky. The clouds burned red at the low edge of the water. Her father's voice came back to her. Red sky at morning, sailors take warning. A storm was coming. But first she needed water. She took only her jackknife and walked to the trees. A young banana tree stood there, slim and green. She cut a deep V into the base, chipping through the outer skin until she reached the pale core. She sliced free a wet chunk and sat on the sand. She chewed. Sweet water ran down her throat. She spat the tough fibers into her palm and drank more from the next piece. Her thirst eased. She looked at the lagoon, where the mermaid was supposed to live. Someone had drawn her on the shrine wall. Someone had laid the shell trail. But the mermaid herself had never come. Celeste chewed slowly and thought. A mermaid could not climb the jungle. She could not reach the fruit that grew high and inland. Maybe that was why the shells pointed to shore. Maybe the mermaid wanted what Celeste could bring her. The idea took hold. If she could not find the mermaid by asking, she would offer her something. A gift. A reason to rise. Celeste worked fast. She cut a long, wide banana leaf with a trailing stem and folded it into a carrier. Into it she gathered guava, ripe bananas, and dragonfruit she had picked before. She tucked plumeria flowers over the top so the pile looked bright and cared for. She added the pale core pieces and folded spare leaves flat beneath. She carried it all back toward camp to leave at the water's edge, where the shell trail began. But when she reached the shelter, it was empty. The fire had gone to ash. The banana leaf bed lay flat. Slate was not curled in his tree. "Slate?" she called. No answer came. She set the carrier down and turned in a slow circle. His paw prints trailed off along the sand toward the trees, then stopped where the ground turned hard. She had counted on him. He knew the island. He knew when to run. Celeste stood alone with her gift of fruit and no cat to guard her back. The red sky darkened. Wind pushed the first cold breath off the water. She looked at the shell trail, then at the empty prints, and made her choice. She would carry the fruit to the water and wait for the mermaid to come. And if Slate did not return, she would face whatever answered the offering by herself.