An Ocean Lullaby

Pilot

The ocean lapped at the shore of Kino's little island, creeping up to send chilly tickles up his toes before drawing back again. The sun shone bright up above, illuminating the sea with a thousand glimmering streaks. Kino soaked up its heat on his skin, closing his eyes and tilting his head up to face the sky and stretch his stiff neck. A gentle breeze was blowing today, just enough to cool the sweat at the nape of his neck when he exposed it.

He lowered his gaze again and continued his work. A small log lay in his lap with two valleys carved width-wise into its surface. Driftwood occasionally washed ashore here, coming from somewhere far off he'd never been. It was what his grandfather had made their house and furniture from before he was born. But Kino did all the construction these days, just like Grandpa had taught him. Mostly carving or whittling, though.

He dipped his knife into one of the depressions cut into the log, peeling a thin strip off its surface and tossing it among the rest in the sand. He'd use these later for kindling. Next, he took his sandpaper and scratched the peeled surface smooth. This took a little longer than he would've liked. He'd have to make some more sandpaper later. That was another thing Grandpa had shown him how to do. By interlocking and stitching together the complementary scales of certain ocean fish, he could get several sheets of paper in one fishing trip. And some yummy fish.

Kino put his tools down and lifted the log from his lap. He examined his craftsmanship—the two shallow U-shapes spaced his shoulders' width apart. This might work. He leaned forward and planted the log on its side, pushing it as far as he could into the wet sand. Then he stepped back and watched. The tide came in again and water channelled though the carved depressions. But it didn't submerge the log entirely. That should be a good spot.

Kino cupped his hands around his mouth. "It's ready," he called toward the water before turning around to wait. Standing as he was now, his grandfather's house of sun-bleached blue paint stood before him, visible through an opening in the thin line of trees. The bush was denser around the back of the island, so he couldn't see through, but he'd always liked that. He and Grandpa had their own little corner with a window to watch the world through. Cozy and safe.

From behind Kino there came shallow, scrambling splashes to accompany the hum of the tide. Droplets of water sprinkled his bare calves here and there. He pressed his hand to his mouth to keep it shut, but snorted loudly through his nose anyway.

"Are you laughing at me?" a girl's voice whined behind him.

Kino shook his head, bringing his other hand up to pinch his nose as another burst of air threatened to escape his belly.

"If you don't stop I'll leave."

"Mm-mm!" Kino shook his head again and this time he swallowed back his laughter. The air went down in a hard lump that sat in his chest. "Are you ready?"

There was more splashing. "Um, maybe. I think I'm comfy."

"So I can look?"

"Uh-huh."

Kino turned. Nali's upper arms lay upon the log, in the depressions he'd carved. Her chin rested atop the surface he'd left untouched between them. Water washed over her arms and brushed her chin, but her mouth would always be above the surface this way.

"Yeah, it works!" Kino jumped back into his seat in the sand. "Is your skin okay?"

Nali wiggled a little. Bent her arms to bring her hands in for her chin to rest on. "Yeah, my belly is floating. Just my tail touches now." Beyond the swirl of coral hair that floated behind her, a teal fin rose out of the water and slapped down flat.

"But you won't get a rash on your scales, right?"

She shook her head. "They're fine. I just want my skin off the sand."