Kenna Esters's Arc

Chapter 13 of 13

Far from the city, the island woke without anyone watching. No boats cut the water. No boots pressed the sand. The tide came in and went out, and the trees held still in the warm wind. A fuzzy winged orb drifted between two ferns, blinking its big black eyes at nothing in particular. It bumped a leaf and floated on. A small frog with a bright frill sat on a wet stone, breathing slow, its colors loud in the green shade. Near the stream, a long lizard climbed a sunlit root. Blue and green scales caught the light. It tasted the air and kept climbing, in no hurry, afraid of nothing. High in the branches, a sloth-monkey hybrid hung by its long tail. It chewed a piece of fruit and watched the canopy sway. Below, the golden panther with two tails walked through a patch of moss. The wire was gone from her leg. The cut had closed to a thin pale line. She drank from the slow water. Her tails flicked once, twice. Around her, the jungle did what jungles do when no one is taking notes. It grew. It breathed. It went on. Somewhere across the ocean, a yellow folder sat in a locked drawer. The island did not know about the folder. It did not need to. The shot Kenna had been chasing her whole life lived here now, unseen, and the island was finally left alone.