Nyla staggered to her feet, which were painful and unsteady.  She tottered from one person to the next, looking for faces she recognized.  Vival?  Highboy?  Iss?
    “Is anybody here?”
    A woman’s voice said, “I am.”
    Nyla turned, but the face she saw was not familiar.

 To her dismay, the blue woman seemed startled and she retreated around the fire the other way.  “Wait!” Nyla said.  “I’m not gonna hurt you!  I just want to…”  But it made no difference.  With each step she took, the blue woman skittered back to stay away from her.  She seemed miserable now, full of longing and aversion at the same time, a kind of combined terror of getting what she wanted and not getting it.
    “Well then why did you come here?” Nyla yelled at her.  “What do you want?”

It’s howling intensified.  It would not be subjugated to the minor.  It was the fundamental, it was the normal.
    It was the truth.


“It’s like my storm!  When we tried to get away.  Only it’s yours!”

“Highboy!  What are you talking about?”

“Didn’t you say a storm tried to keep you?  On that island?  I think it followed you here!  It found you, maybe!”

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