under sun-washed skies on her lonely island, Nira embarked on a risky, desperate plan. She had to make some attempt to escape her exile and—she dared to hope—Dobro itself.
High up on the beach, past the point where any waves might reach during one of the infrequent storms that lashed the island, Nira laid out the last of the fallen trunks. It had taken her a great deal of time to search through the thickets, but at last she had found enough material without needing to chop down living trees, which would have been anathema to a green priest. These trees had toppled over, from either age or harsh weather.
One by one, she dragged the lightweight, airy logs down to the beach, where she toiled with sharp rocks and shells to shave away the bark and knobby branches. Then, using techniques she recalled from shipwreck adventures she had read aloud to the worldtrees when she was an acolyte—Robinson Crusoe, The Mysterious Island, The Swiss Family Robinson—she bound the logs together two at a time with vines, then reinforced them with gummy sap. Slowly her raft took shape, growing wider and more seaworthy.
Each day as she made progress, an inner anxiety pushed her to hurry. At any time, Designate Udru’h might return for an unexpected visit, and she had to be away before then. He could not be allowed to see what she was doing. As a green priest, she didn’t need to waste time gathering supplies. The vast lake provided fresh water to drink, and the bright sunlight on her emerald skin gave all the nourishment she needed.
For now, what Nira required most was determination. She had been passive for too long. Osira’h must think her dead, as did Jora’h and everyone on Theroc. But that didn’t mean she had to give up on herself and remain stranded on this island. Though her chances were slim, she intended to take action and make a difference. The plan kept her alive and sane.
When the raft was ready, she rigged up a makeshift sail of thick leaves, used a pole to push the raft into the lake, and guided herself away from shore. She didn’t know where she was going, had no idea what direction the winds or currents might carry her. But no matter where she landed, Nira would consider it a starting point. She could set off and find her way . . . somewhere. For now, she felt satisfied just to get away from where the Designate had exiled her.
Nira looked up into the open sky and leaned back on her raft as she began to drift. She would go where fate chose to take her, and from there she would make her next plans.
For a full day, the breezes remained warm, then whipped up with greater force, rattling the drying leaves of her sail. The swaying of her raft on the choppy lake made her uneasy. All around her endless water stretched to a blue infinity with no hint of the nearest shore. Though Nira had never seen maps of Dobro, she knew this was just a lake, albeit an enormous one. She was not accustomed to being so far from solid ground, from living plants and trees.
Nira wondered how the Dobro Designate would react when he came back to her island and found her gone. He had kept her alive in order to use her for some grim purpose . . . but she had let herself be used too often by that terrible man, and she vowed it would not happen again.
The nights were lonely. Her leaf sail bowed outward as the wind picked up again. Overhead, the stars were obscured by thickening clouds. She could not see the gathering storm, but she could smell moisture and ozone in the air, hear far-off bursts of thunder. Rain began to pelt down, drenching her green skin. She clung to the sides of her raft as the choppy water began to buffet her.
Waves splashed over the logs. Though she had done her best to ensure that the bindings were strong, Nira’s floating craft was too fragile to withstand the power of this storm for long. But she had no place else to go, so she held on and rode out the weather.
Rain slashed down. Blinding forks of lightning burst across the sky. Shivering, Nira grasped the slick wooden logs and waited, not counting the endless minutes or hours.
She had been through worse ordeals when she’d been in the breeding barracks. She could endure this.
Exhausted, Nira wanted to sink into the oblivion of sleep and hide there until the gale was over, but she dared not, for fear that she would lose her grip. Drowning in a deep lake far from any forest would be a terrible end for a green priest. She longed to set foot onshore again, to find trees and plants—and a way back to Theroc.
She told herself again, I can endure this. . . .
Morning came with the murky darkness of lingering rain clouds in the sky, but the worst of the storm had passed and the choppy waves calmed. She was delighted to see a smear of brown land, cast into relief by the light of the rising sun on the horizon. At first she was afraid the currents and the wind had hurled her back to her isolated island, but the shoreline extended too straight and too far. This must be a main continent.
She began to paddle furiously. Helpful winds gusted now, so she adjusted her sail and rode the breezes toward the ever-growing line of solid land. It took her most of the day to reach shore, and as she approached she surveyed the brown and rocky landscape with dismay. A bleak nothingness stretched as far as she could see.
With a knot in her stomach, Nira thought briefly that she might have been better off remaining a prisoner on her lush island, but then she chided herself. She had made a choice to fight back and disrupt the Designate’s plans in any way possible, even if she had to die to do so.
When her raft finally reached the brown, sandy slope, she stumbled off the wet logs and fell to her knees on the beach, just appreciating the firmness of earth beneath her again. Her legs were wobbly, but she drew a deep breath and felt the energy cycling through her skin.
Straining and panting, she dragged her raft high up onto dry ground and anchored it, though she didn’t know why. She never intended to use the raft again—certainly not to go back to her island, even if she could have navigated her way there.
Finally she shaded her eyes to look into the distance as far as she could see. Behind her lay the open water, and ahead—no matter how barren and daunting the landscape appeared—was her path. She would find her destination out there somewhere.
Leaving the shore behind, Nira began to walk forward.