THERE IS maybe nothing better than traveling to the bottom of the world and finding a friend you thought you’d lost forever. Rayel thought her heart might burst.
The girl in the cavern at the bottom of the world denied that her name was Nunu and claimed she had no memory of being a dolphin; that, she said, was crazy talk. She seemed really not to understand what Rayel was talking about. But she knew Rayel and her history, and she’d been waiting for Rayel to arrive. Her name, she said, was Una.
“Okay,” said Rayel. Nunu—Una—wouldn’t lie. Who knows, maybe that was how the magic worked for her. And it was wonderful that they could now talk to each other in the same language. Una and Rayel spent all of that first day together, and the second and the third, and so on. Rayel told Una about the rest of her journey and how she arrived to the underground world. Una told about the cavern, which she’d had some time to explore. But for her it was as though nothing existed before this underground world. About her original family she’d only say that they’d been lost at sea. She hadn’t seen them since she was very young, almost a baby. She couldn’t remember more.
Una swam for hours every day in the stream and waterfall and ate only fish. She said she’d eaten fish for so long she couldn’t change her ways, not even now that she was living where there were delicious plants. When she wasn’t swimming, she would sit near the water and weave on the loom she’d built for herself out of sticks. She wove delicate grasses into mats they could sleep on and flax-like strands into clothes they could wear. The soft tassels of grain she wove into hair ribbons and bracelets. She spent long hours braiding Rayel’s hair.
Rayel learned that although she didn’t feel the cold, Una did. Una couldn’t—wouldn’t—go to the surface of the deep south, instead shivering and shaking her head whenever Rayel suggested exploring there.
They didn’t need to go up, anyway. Their underground world had everything these two could need for life: fruits and vegetables and birds’ eggs for Rayel; warm air for Una; fish for both of them; sunlight somehow brighter than on the surface and refracted through a roof so high above that it looked like sky; drizzles of rain that fell every morning from the condensation on the high ceiling; rich dirt and soft grass and running water so pure it was like nothing Rayel had ever tasted before.
This underground cavern had everything one might need to survive. Except one thing: adventure.
ONE DAY as they were sitting on the bank of the stream, Una still dripping from a swim and Rayel cleaning carrots and potatoes in the river before cooking them for her dinner, she finally got up the courage to ask Una how she came to get her scars. Rayel had seen them again when Una was swimming—deep crevasses down her back, healed but still ridged and angry-looking. Welts that would never go away. The same as Nunu’s.
Una smiled. “We all have scars.” Her teeth shone in the dusk; so did the little bald spot on her head, the blowhole mark, more noticeable when her thick hair was wet.
“Not what I meant,” said Rayel.
The other girl tossed her head and laughed. “I know.” She lay back on the grass, her hands clasped under her head and her elbows out to the side like fins. “It happened before I came here. I . . . think I went to an island.” She shook her head. “My memory isn’t too good.”
“By yourself?”
“After I lost my family. I think.”
Rayel waited, but Una didn’t say more. “What island?”
“I don’t know its name. It was crescent-shaped. The bay was warm because a hot spring fed into it. Oh, there were so many fish.” She smacked her lips at the memory, then shivered.
“What happened?” Rayel sat above her friend, the washed carrots and potatoes forgotten on the grass between them. “What made the scars?” And was that the same island that Nunu and I visited . . . ?
“I didn’t look carefully. I just swam into the shallow water in the bay, not really paying attention, you know? I’d just lost my family. I was there but not there?”
Rayel waited, tapping at the bump on her head until Una reached up and took her hand.
“It was in the bay, standing in the water. Maybe It was fishing. Seemed like It was waiting for me. It grabbed me with its terrible claws. I just barely got away, trailing blood after me.”
Rayel could hardly breathe. “What . . . was . . . it?”
Una looked surprised—surprised Rayel didn’t know, maybe also surprised that she was still there, listening. She dropped Rayel’s hand.
“Don’t you know? Haven’t you been there?”
“To that island? But I—I didn’t see anything.”
“It was a bear. Turns out they’re as real as me.” More to herself she added, “There was only one then. But later, there were two. Why two? One for each of us? One for everyone who lands there?”
Rayel shook her head. Una wasn’t making sense.
They both lay on their backs for a long time and watched the stars that were coming out overhead—or, not stars but whatever they were, glittering on the ceiling of whatever it was up there. The lid of their world. The entire cavern still glowed gently with stored light.
“So, how did you . . . get better?” Rayel couldn’t quite say heal.
Una just turned her had and looked at Rayel. She didn’t speak, but Rayel could see the words in her eyes. You.
RAYEL WAS UNDERGROUND with Una for the better part of a year, turning fifteen in this paradise. Every day was warm and perfect. Yet Rayel felt the smallness of this enclosed world. It was like she was tucked inside someone’s pocket—but what had at first felt safe and cozy now felt like a prison. She missed the ocean and living on a raft. Out in the open. And she missed adventure.
Una, too, seemed ready to leave, finally. She talked about the ocean with a deep longing. When Rayel told her about Raftworld, she said it sounded wonderful, and when Rayel went back, she would go with her and live there, too—or if not on Raftworld, then at least near it. Rayel smiled at the other girl’s murky way of speaking. But whether Una lived on the giant raft or in the water near it, she’d be close. Rayel would have a friend nearby.
Rayel had been gone long enough. Her fiancé had surely married someone else by now. Even if he hadn’t, though, she knew now that she could stand up to him and to her parents—appeal to the council if she needed to, and explain what she’d overheard and why she didn’t want to marry this man. If that didn’t work—well, she could run away again. She knew she could, because she’d already done it. And she’d have her friend.
But there was still so much here, in the frozen south, to see. Before she went back to Raftworld, she wanted to explore this world more. After all, she’d made it all the way to the cold lands, something no other Raftworlder had ever done, and she had the magic gift to survive here. So why not return as the first human who’d explored the entire south? Maybe there was more to find before leaving: more underground caverns, maybe even habitable land above ground if one traveled far enough. Who knew when Raftworld might want a permanent place to settle? And if they ever did, she’d be the hero who had found it.
Una was excited to go to Raftworld. She’d begun weaving warmer clothing so that she could survive the walk to the ocean and the days and weeks at sea. Rayel began building a raft they could lug out of this place in pieces and put together at the water, a raft with a small cabin for Una to stay out of the cold.
But all the while they were building and weaving, Rayel kept thinking about the frozen land around them. And finally one day she said what she was thinking, even though it would make Una unhappy. “Before we go, I’d like to walk around outside for a while.”
“Underground is nice,” said Una. “Warm.”
“But we don’t know what’s out there,” said Rayel. “Not all of it. There could be more places like this cavern. Or better places. We’ll just go look. Then we’ll go to Raftworld.”
Finally, reluctantly, Una agreed: as soon as she’d woven enough cloth to make a warm outfit for herself, they’d explore.
Another month passed, and finally Una’s snow outfit was ready. By that time, Rayel had finished the little raft with the cabin—it sat in several pieces on the ground near the waterfall—and she was so bored she was almost ready to climb the walls of the sunny cave. It was all so perfect and so still and so aggravating. She wanted wind, and shifting ocean, and the feeling of cold weather looking for her and not finding her.
It was just past the height of summer, or what passed for the height of summer in the deep south, when they stepped outside. The sun shone almost all day long, setting for only a few hours each night. The brightness felt like life to Rayel. For though she could not feel cold, she could feel heat, and she realized she hadn’t felt direct sunlight in a long time.
The two girls took turns pulling a sled filled with items they would need: fresh-caught fish for Una; dried food for Rayel; a change of clothes in case Una’s clothing became wet; a little tent for Una to keep warm in (there was room for Rayel in the tent, too, but she didn’t need it); and a little stove with a pile of wood scraps, for Una. Most of the sled, in fact, carried sticks for burning.
On their backs the girls wore cloaks that Una had made. Rayel wore one, too, but only because her friend had made it; she planned to give it to Una if Una got too cold in only her own cloak. And they’d fashioned visors from tinted gypsum, to protect their eyes from the bright glare; it was impossible to see without the visors pulled down over their faces.
Even through all those layers, Rayel could feel fingers of sunlight tickling her head and shoulders. She loosened her cloak.
Una, meanwhile, pulled hers tighter and hunched against the wind, shivering. “How long are we going to stay out here?”
“We’ve just started,” said Rayel. “And you’ll warm up when we walk. I promise.”
Una nodded, willing to try, and they set off inland, away from where Rayel’s boat had sunk, toward a slight rise in the land.
A couple of hours later, the slight rise in the land was closer, and it was more than a slight rise. A mountain? Distances and heights were hard to judge here. But it looked rocky as they got closer to it, and Rayel thought it would be a good place to look for more underground land—or even just normal, nonmagical snow caves—and for any other signs of life. She gestured toward it. “Let’s get as far as we can and then set up camp for the night.”
Una rubbed her mittened fingers together and stuffed them under her armpits. “I don’t know if I can make it that far. My feet are getting really cold. Sore. I don’t want frostbite.”
Rayel tried to imagine what frostbite would feel like. Such a strange word.
Looking up at Rayel, Una explained: the tingling in the fingers and toes, then the numbness and clumsiness. If you stayed out long enough, the eventual death from cold.
Rayel listened, though it was all just words to her. She couldn’t feel it. “I believe you. Should we stop now? For the night?”
Una nodded, relieved. “I just need to warm up.”
They set up the tent, and Una crawled inside with the stove, lit a piece of wood from the small stock they’d brought along, and huddled over it. Rayel crawled inside, and they shared a lunch and rested. A couple of hours later, they started up again.
They walked for two days, zigzagging away from their cavern, stopping often to warm up and nap, traveling toward the mountain and then climbing the mountain.
Although they could see far into the distance from its smooth, windblown summit, they didn’t spot any entrances to underground caverns, and they couldn’t see any trees or grass or anything alive. They’d discovered frozen land and snow that seemed to go on forever.
Una was cold all the time now—and more and more uneasy the farther they got from the ocean. At the top of the low mountain, she pivoted slowly, scanning the horizon for water. There was none in sight. “Can we go back?”
“We still have enough food and wood to go a bit farther. Maybe that next mountain.” Rayel pointed into the distance. “Then we’ll go back. I promise.” She felt sure there had to be more to this southern world. There was the magic already of her gift with cold, and the astounding underground cave, and the presence of Una herself . . .
It was hard to even imagine her as Nunu anymore. The transformation was so believable.
As if she knew what Rayel was thinking, Una said, “I think the world gets wilder and more magical the farther south you go. That’s my theory. Everything’s more intense here, so the magic is, too.” Then she sighed. “But I don’t think there’s more to this land. I think we’ve already found all the enchantment here.”
Rayel nodded. Una was probably right about the magic being stronger in the south. After all, here was where she had found a home where she was solely loved. That was magic, too.
As soon as Rayel had that idea, she thought, Solomon. And memories from her old life—mostly memories about her little brother—flooded back. Things she had tried not to think about too much since she’d left home. So many things she missed about him. His warm skin, smooth under her hand when she touched his cheek. The feel of his head brushing against her arm when he snuggled up to her. His quick smile. The way he laughed when he beat her at games—and the way he laughed even more when she beat him. His head bent over a book and his light, high voice slowly making out the words. The way his nose wrinkled when their mom said something unkind to anyone (especially his sister). The way he ran across the docks when it was time to go boating, a flock of boys and girls running along with him.
She missed him. Even on the other side of the world, she’d never stop missing him. She understood this better now than when she had left Raftworld. She’d always missed having parents who loved her, and she’d thought Solomon made up for that. But he didn’t; his death taught her about different kinds of sadness. The pain of losing Solomon was staggering. But somehow the pain of losing love she’d never had was almost worse. It would always be an ugly scar. How could she go back?
“We should stay here,” she said. The words fell out of her mouth unplanned. “Not here, not in the snow. But in the cavern. I’ll go out and explore sometimes on my own, and you won’t even have to go out in the cold, and we’ll live in the cavern together, and it’ll be safe, and we’ll be happy.”
Una stared at her. “You promised.” There was real anger in her voice—and coldness, too. She turned and walked down the mountain, pulling the sled behind her, toward the warm cavern.
Rayel sighed. She’d messed up. But she didn’t understand why it was such a big deal to Una—it wasn’t like Raftworld was her home, or even like she remembered her original home.
She was, after all, a dolphin.
Una was a small figure partway down the mountain. It was amazing how quickly she could move when she was angry.
Before Rayel followed, she looked around one last time, hoping to see something. Something amazing.
And she did. Far off in the distance, she saw what looked like two . . . What were they? Large white creatures, almost the same shade as the snow, made visible by their blue shadows. Lumbering across the ice. So far away they looked almost like toys. They looked exactly like the way bears had been described in the stories she’d heard when she was little.
Two of them—like Una had said. One for each.
She shook her head, and suddenly they were gone, merged back into the landscape. Or maybe imagined in the first place.
Rayel turned and followed Una home. She wouldn’t mention the bears—if that was what they were.
IT TOOK them only a long day to get back to the underground world. Rayel trailed behind as Una stormed ahead, refusing to stop for any amount of cold, determined to get back.
In the cavern, Una dove into the stream and swam for a long hour while Rayel unpacked the sled, parked now next to the raft pieces. When Una finally emerged from the water and shook herself off, Rayel said, “I’m sorry. But it’s the truth. I don’t want to go back. Not yet. Maybe not ever. It—it wasn’t a good place for me.”
“But I’ll be there with you,” Una said, “and it will be better. And I want to go. I need more people than what we have here. Maybe a boyfriend someday, maybe children someday, definitely more friends. I was never meant to be alone. I belong in a group.”
“So I’m not good enough for you.”
“That’s not fair! I didn’t say I was going to get rid of you. I just need other friends, too. And I’m trapped here—I can’t explore, I can’t go anywhere—because of the cold. You don’t know how that feels.”
“I know what it’s like to be trapped.” Rayel glowered. “I was stuck on Raftworld. Besides,” she said, “I think my vote counts more. It was my home, not yours.”
Una flinched as if she’d been slapped. She straightened and said in a low voice, “I thought our votes were both worth the same.” Her eyes darkened even more than usual, the two dots in them glinting like double pupils. “You think I don’t matter as much as you.”
“I never said that! I just don’t want to go back. Not now.”
“And maybe not ever.”
Rayel nodded, relieved. Una understood. Una always understood. She had come to the deep south for Rayel, after all.
Una stared her in the face for a full minute. It seemed like forever. “Selfish,” she said.
Then she turned and dove into the stream, swimming away from the water fall and downstream, toward the hard gypsum walls of the cavern. Rayel ran along the bank calling after her, but Una’s head never came above the water; she never heard Rayel—or if she did, she was too angry or hurt to listen. She swam all the way to where the stream ran into a crevasse in the cavern wall on its way to the sea, and she swam into the crevasse. She disappeared.
RAYEL WAITED at the crevasse for hours, but Una never came back.
She returned to the waterfall, and there she cried. For Solomon. For Nunu. Most of all, now, for Una. For all the mistakes she’d made and the awful thing she’d said. The awful thing she’d thought. How could she think someone else wasn’t as important as she was? That her needs outweighed theirs?
Finally, she cried for herself, because she could see a pattern now, a pattern of herself losing those she loved, a pattern of grief tracing itself out over and over again, like a child practicing rowing: circle and pull, circle and pull, circle and pull, all the motions connected, on and on in an endless invisible chain across the wide sea.
As she cried, she hardened. There is no other way to describe it. She felt like the cold had finally found her and she was turning to ice, or maybe to stone. She wasn’t sure. She cried for hours, standing on the edge of the water, stiff and unmoving. Then something happened.
Something arrived.
A bear. She saw it out of the corner of her eye. One bear. Where did the other go? One for each of us. One for everyone who lands there. Had the other one followed Una, and was this one hers?
The bear approached her slowly, sniffing and growling. It was enormous.
Something snapped inside Rayel. The bear wasn’t scared of her at all. It made her so angry. She didn’t move. She kept crying, tears running down her face and neck. The bear swiped at her one time, raking its claws across her stone-hard arm and then whimpering when its claws were damaged. She felt a rush of power. Her arm didn’t even bleed.
And with a mighty effort, she moved her almost-frozen body, and she grabbed the bear and held on. This bear was hers.
LATER, IT was just Rayel again, on the bank of the stream. She stood next to the waterfall, in the shade of the tall tree, and she cried. For what she’d done to the bear. For how it made her feel inside. And for everything and everyone she’d lost, including herself.
She hardened even more. She remembered how Una had tried to describe frostbite. But this wasn’t freezing, which begins in your fingers and toes and your nose and cheeks and slowly moves from these outposts to your limbs, and only after your limbs surrender does it invade your internal organs and your brain. No, when Rayel hardened, it was something that happened from the inside out. First, all hunger disappeared. Then her heart and lungs slowed down, finally solidifying like granite. Then her brain felt heavy and slow, and her thoughts calcified (gone, gone, gone, their final and repeating word). Lastly—though it all happened quickly at this point—her body petrified in place, statued under the tree next to the river.
The only thing that did not freeze?
Her eyes.
Or more correctly, her tear ducts, which continued to produce tears. The tears ran down her hardened form and slid off her toes into the stream. The stream ran down into an underground river.
The river carried the tears all the way to the sea. A constant current of tears. And over the long years, those tears altered the enormous ocean.
Rayel’s tears.
The salty sea.