Three Weeks Later
Location: Madruga Shore
The barest wisp
of a person stood vaguely silhouetted against the pre-dawn sky. Most people would, to her aggravation and
amusement, mistake her for a child upon first glance. She hadn’t quite made it to 5’ and just about
disappeared when she turned sideways.
However, as she gazed steadily at
the water of the Lamisti Gulf, her mouth set in a determined line, no one would
mistake her face for that of a carefree child.
She reached her hands up to the sky, then to the right, left and down to
her toes, focusing fully on the task at hand.
If she let her concentration slip –
She ran to the nearby grass, falling
to her hands and knees to heave up all that was left of the food she’d eaten the
night before. Kamino sighed, wiped the
back of her hand over her mouth and returned to stretching, refocusing.
Some 30 miles of turbulent open
waters separated the Madruga states from Paonia. This was at the narrowest point of the Gulf –
slightest error of navigation to either the north or south…well, you didn’t
make it, suffice it to say.
Paonia
wasn’t known to other nations as the Walled Kingdom for nothing. With the Wall to the North, the Towers to the
East and the Ports to the South, all entrances were carefully blocked off. The only reason the West was left open was
that the Lamisti Gulf was believed to be un-sailable due to its temperamental
weather and rocky shorelines.
However, Kamino was not just Paonian, but, as her azure skin
declared, Oceanian. Oceanians learned to
swim before they could walk, and spent more of their life in the water than
out. Other Paonians (most of whom
couldn’t swim a stroke) called them squids, not entirely kindly. They felt their
love of the Ocean was unnatural. Which
was probably why it never occurred to anyone that someone could swim the Gulf.
That and the fact that few maps
existed with both Paonian and Madrugan shores outlined, showing this small
chink in their armor. Kamino had as a
child seen one such map, carefully worked out as a delicately tiled
mosaic. The artwork in the room had been
done eons ago when Madruga had still been part of the Chikil empire. As a child, she’d wondered if the map was
fact or myth.
Two years ago she’d been
desperate enough to find out. And here
she was again.
Kamino pulled on the glass
goggles she’d discovered near Beedar Lake – an area known for its divers. No true
Oceanian would ever wear goggles – but she was only part Oceanian, the ocean irritated her eyes and she’d given up the
impossible task of trying to belong on the small, xenophobic island nearly a
decade ago. She’d had to adopt practicality over pride and tradition.
Kamino
raked her hands somewhat viciously through her amethyst streaked white hair –
her father’s hair – pulling it tightly back.
No, she’d never be mistaken for a pure Oceanian – or pure anything for that matter – but now she’d
made herself more than any one people.
First by studying under the High
Warress she’d acquired the knowledge of Paonia – both Boofon and Chikil, a feat
in itself. Then she’d done what few Paonians ever had done – she’d left. This gave her the chance to live in Madruga
and Mahsheean, learning their ways, adding their skillsets to her own. She’d even studied for a time with an
Arlainian instructor and been trained by a Vylnese guard. She could do this.
At
fifteen she’d been strong enough, smart
enough to escape Paonia. Two years wiser
now, she’d spent every moment improving, honing. She’d hoped never to need that skill and
knowledge. Her stomach trembled. Muchovan
wouldn’t allow her any peace.
Again
Kamino fought back panic. She could do this. Yes, last time she had failed, but she
wouldn’t do so again.
Couldn’t do so again.
Okay that wasn’t helping. She couldn’t
seem to find the steady, calm, peaceful frame of mind that Chikils strove for, so
she decided she’d settle for anger, righteous indignation and pride – a trick
she’d learned from the Boofon. She found
she liked the irony of it – it seemed appropriate.
Kamino
poked at all the old wounds she could think of, working herself into a fine
fit, then puffing herself up by thinking of all the things she’d accomplished on her own,
She gracefully dived into the
cold water.
She knew the anger wouldn’t last,
but once it wore off she’d have the swim to capture her whole attention, and
eventually she’d be too tired and numb to think of anything beyond her next
stroke. Honestly, she was looking
forward to the swim. It would grant her
a peace she’d not known in the three weeks since she’d left Mahsheean. The journey would be physically taxing, but didn’t
worry her.
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