Nation

“Small? What do you mean, small?”

“He’s right, Mau,” said Milo solemnly. “We didn’t want to tell you. It’s small. It’s a small island.”

Mau’s mouth was open in astonished disbelief. “That can’t be right,” he protested. “It’s much bigger than any of the Windcatcher Islands.”

Ataba was hammering wildly as if he intended to be down there all day . . . and then there was an explosion of bubbles as the last of his air ran out. That was chilling, and also quite insane. What was so dangerous about a rock that the old fool would waste his last breath trying to smash it?

there was something the ghost girl had taught him on the very first day they met: Guns did not like water.

where is your chief?”

“I’m here,” said Mau firmly. “Take her up to the Women’s Place. Ataba here will show you the way.” The old priest sniffed and scowled but didn’t argue.

The young man stared at Mau. “You are the chief? But you are just a boy!”

“Not just. Not even. Not only. Who knows?” said Mau. “The wave came. These are new days. Who knows what we are? We survived, that’s all.” He paused, and thought: And we become what we have to be

he would teach her the language, so they would both remember, so that when people came, they could say: Once there were many people living here, and then the wave came.