My past became nothing as I awoke to find myself alone, without memory, on a 
foreign shore. I felt no pain or discomfort, only the accomodating grains of sand 
underneath my body. It was broad daylight. The tide was out, and I pushed 
myself up to find my body marking the high tide. I had no odor of the ocean at 
all, however, and in my state between slumber and full wakefulness it seemed 
clear to me that I had not been deposited by the waves.

I stood and brushed golden sand grains from my body. I was naked, but oddly, 
not ashamed. My only attire was a necklace of yarnwork or macramˇ that felt as 
though it had teeth or claws tied into it, and a felt pouch hanging from around 
my neck. This pouch was heavy, and the cord it dangled from dug into my flesh 
as I rose. I slipped the thing off of me and undid the drawstring. Inside the pouch 
were eight large coins, each half as thick as my finger was wide. They looked to 
be copper, and of recent mint, for they were uncorroded. They had no writing 
upon them, but were each stamped with the face of some individual whose 
visiage meant nothing to me.

I donned my purse again and considered my surroundings. I was upon a 
peninsula of golden sand, and another--to my north?--jutted as far out to sea as 
mine. The body of the land was covered with a thicket of tropical plants that 
prevented me from seeing further--to the northeast?

The sun called to me. I turned to face it  and to draw energy from it into my skin. 
By its position, and the temperature of the sand and breeze, I guessed the time to 
be between 9 and 10 AM. Naked though I was, I was determined to find out if I 
was alone or not; and I set out around to the part of the beach thus far hidden 
from my eyes.

I had not gone far when I came upon a young girl playing at the border between 
the forest and the beach. She looked to be about 6 years of age, with long dark 
hair and auburn eyes that moved very quickly. She was dressed in a wrap or 
muumuu with flowers printed upon it.

<<Eh, se–or, Ąquiˇn es?>> Though I knew and could parse her words perfectly, I 
felt my mind change ever so slightly as I did; and I guessed that the tongue she 
spoke was not my native one. "Sir, who are you?"

A reply sprang from me. <<No recuerdo. Levantˇ poco antes, y no puedo 
recordar.>> "I don't remember. I got up just a little before, and I can't recall." I 
approached her, but though I was unclothed--and many years her senior--she 
showed no embarassment or apprehension. I sat a little from her and continued. 
<<Estaba supiendo sobre la playa cu‡ndo despertˇ, creo que sea marino u otra 
cosa. ĄD—nde estoy?>> "I was lying on the beach when I woke up, I think I'm a 
marine or some such thing. Where am I?"

<<ĮNuestra isla es la Isla Aurora, en el oeste de la tierra Amanecer!>> she 
declared proudly. "Our island is Aurora Island, in the west of the land 
Amanecer!" The names meant nothing to me. I was a castaway in a foreign land, 
without meaning to guide me or awareness to help me survive. My companion 
was ignorant of my distress. She took hold of my hand and began leading me 
into the forest. <<V‡manos!>> "Let's go!"

<<ĄAd—nde vamos?>> "Where are we going?" I asked, not bothering to resist.

<<A charlar con abuelita!>> "To talk with Grandmother!"

Our destination was but a few paces away from the sandy shore. It was a single 
room hut made from reeds, in the shape of a half-dome, facing the direction 
from which we approached. Clearly, it had been designed with only minimal 
protective needs in mind. A fire pit was in the ground at the front and center, 
where a few embers smouldered. More wood and brush was at the ready, two 
meters away.

Beside the pit was a woman; clearly, she was very old, but her body was so 
weathered that I could not guess her age beyond 60. She was dressed like her 
"granddaughter", in a floral muumuu, though hers was much more 
weatherworn. Only a few wisps of hair were on her otherwise bald head. As we 
came to her, she tried to smile at me from her toothless mouth; but she could 
not, for half of her face did not move. Perhaps she was the victim of a stroke?

"Greetings," I said in their tongue. "I apologize for arriving in this fashion. I'm a 
castaway upon your island. I can't remember who I am."

"Ah, indeed! A boy in need of help. Come closer so I can look at you." I was not 
wary, and I sat down next to her beside the fire. She set down her wickerwork 
and ran the tips of her fingers across my face. Her black eyes looked at me as 
best they could. "I see now. You're a foreign boy. How did you arrive?"

"I suppose by sea, but I can't remember."

"'Can't remember!' 'Can't remember!' Always 'can't remember' from you, boy." 
She struggled to her feet, but motioned me to remain where I was. She made her 
way over to a wooden trunk in the back of the hut and fumbled the lid open. 
After a few inarticulate curses, she brought forth a pair of trousers of black-and-
white leather. "Try these on, boy. They belonged to my son-in-law, before he 
died."

"Thank you...Grandmother," I said. Both women laughed and smiled at me. The 
pants were too big for me, but I was able to make them fit by cuffing the legs 
and securing the waist with a bone pin, borrowed from Grandmother. "What are 
they made of?"

"The skin of orca, the killer-whale," she replied.

"They feel comfortable. Thank you again for them. Let me repay you both." I 
took my pouch off and extracted a coin for them each. "I don't know if these are 
worth anything."

Grandmother and granddaughter were taken aback by my gifts, and reached for 
the coins hesitatingly. At first, I thought I had broken some kind of taboo, but 
my fears were laid to rest when the grandmother said, "Boy...whoever you are, 
you must come from a strange land if you give metal to people like this."

"I see," I replied. I glanced around the hut again, and, not seeing any metallic 
objects at all, inquired, "Is metal a rarity, then?"

"Yes!" said the granddaughter, most emphatically. Her grandmother followed, "It 
is as rare as dry land, in the world Marmundo."

She moved still closer to me, and looked at me earnestly and imploringly. "Boy, 
you will stay with us for a few days. You are in need of advice. I will teach you to 
fish, and how to live in the land Amanecer. Then, I suppose, you will want to see 
the world and find your way to your home."

"Yes. I suppose I will. I am honored to be your guest." I turned back to the little 
girl and said, "And yours as well." She smiled and blushed brightly.
--
Grandmother cackled with joy. "It is a pleasure to have a strong back at my 
command again! Push harder, boy!"

I grunted, and pressed my shoulder against the stern of the canoe. It was a 
wooden craft about four times as long as myself. The bow and stern tapered 
upwards, and strange symbols were carved upon them; symbols that I didn't 
like to look at, for they made my eyes ache. Three benches crossed the body of 
the boat. Grandmother, holding three large wooden paddels, took the foremost 
for herself as the canoe slipped into the water. Granddaughter clambered into 
the rear one with a length of rope. She had taken off her dress, and I wondered if 
she planned to swim, with the rope as a tether.

I threw two large nets filled with rocks into the canoe, then waded into the water 
and eased it free of the sand. Grandmother gestured at me impatiently, and I 
clambered aboard. I had no sooner seated myself when she thrust one paddle to 
me. "Here."

"Eh?"

"Paddle, boy!" She seized my right hand and thrust the paddle's shaft into it, then 
placed the left atop the handle. "Right side!" she shouted. Without thinking, I 
dipped the paddle into the water and pushed. "You paddle like your arms are 
made of jelly! Switch hands! Left side! Again! Right! Left! I could swim faster than 
you paddle! Faster! Harder!"

Through her cajoling and my own drive, I singlehandedly paddled the canoe a 
few hundred geofeet from shore. My arms had quickly tired, so I was glad for 
the rest when she gestured for me to halt over some submarine reef. I turned 
my shoulders to the sun to warm them, and asked, "Are we going fishing 
together?"

To my astonishment, the old lady was reduced to peals of laughter. The girl, also 
taken aback at her grandmother's behavior, replied in the negative. "This is 
where we collect food for our meals. I'll go and get some!"

In the blink of an eye, she had slipped one end of the rope around the end of the 
stern and tied it in a knot. She then tied the other end to one netful of rocks. I 
understood her plan, and even before she had requested my assitance I had 
lifted the rocks up off the bottom of the canoe. I hurled the ersatz anchor 
overboard, and the girl followed it down, catching hold of it as it disappeared 
below the waterline.

No sooner was she away then I felt the grandmother tapping at my shoulder. 
"Boy, if you want to keep your hide, be careful how you ask people to 'go 
fishing', or to 'catch fish'." She gave me a wink and said, "When boys and girls 
'go fishing' together, who can say what kinds of fish they will catch!"

I nodded, embarassed at my faux pas. "Then what should I say?"

"Oh, 'catch dinner', 'net some food', that sort of thing. Be obvious. Ahah!" The 
girl bobbed up above the surface, clutching at a cluster of brown somethings. 
"She's brought us some 'pliegalmejas'!"

"'Fold-clams'?" The name sounded alien to me, but I was amazed by what, in 
fact, the girl placed in my hand. The shells looked somewhat like clams, but were 
perfectly symmetric from above and below. Their top and bottom were 
asymmetric--one shell was significantly larger than the other. I grasped ahold of 
a fleeting memory. "Do these 'pliegalmejas' have...er...strange tongues? Like 
this?" I fanned out my fingers.

"Yes!" said the granddaughter. "You know them? You remember?"

"Somewhat," I replied. "They are called 'brachiopods' where I come from. But 
they're very rare. I have never eaten one before."

"They're tasty!"

"As I shall find out," I replied. As the girl dived again, this time unaided, I asked, 
"Are they common here? And why are they called 'fold-clams'?"

"Oh, yes, quite common. And they are named because most kinds--but not this 
one--are folded, like so." She drew a zig-zag W shape in the air.

The sun had long been burning on my exposed back and shoulders, and I turned 
out of the direct light. The grandmother seemed to have no work to do other 
than to chat with me, so I broached another subject. "Tell me, are you her 
grandmother?"

"Yes. My husband and I had one daughter, and she married a man from Astro, 
which is the town on the island Rosado, a few hours to the east. They both lived 
with us. She had one child, who still lives in Astro, but after her man died she 
would not remarry. Instead, she has adopted several children in Astro, and sends 
them out to visit sometimes. Only a few days go by when there's no-one around 
with me."

I nodded again. "A husband, a son-in-law, and orphans. It seems that your life 
has had unhappiness."

"Yes. With the sea so close, and the problems it brings, I am fortunate, or some 
such thing, to have lived so long." She ran her hand along the side of the boat, 
brushing wards and runes that helped preserve her safety. "I am not afraid for 
myself. What the gods choose, I will accept. But it has been painful to see my 
loved ones die. For her, I pray."

The girl had been diving during our chat, and she had brought in about three 
dozen pliegalmejas--more than enough, I judged, for our dinner. I pulled her up 
and into the boat, then announced, "Now I'm going down."

"You are a brave one!" said Grandmother. "But what are you going for? Even the 
pliegalmejas surprised you, how will you know what to bring?"

"I will bring one of everything," I replied, "and you can tell me all about them." 
Without another word I disrobed and dived overboard.

The world I was transported to was one of clear blue. The warm water embraced 
me and held me tight; I could feel it in my chest. Fifteen feet below me was the 
teeming life of the reef: all things animal and vegetable, active and sessile, 
splendid and drab. Many forms looked familiar, or were varieties of life that 
echoed my past; but some things, like the amorphous golden jelly blob that 
quivered and oozed across the corals, and the spiderlike creature that ate 
sediment off of the seabed, were alien to me.

I returned to the surface with four treasures that seemed harmless and beautiful. 
Without bothering to board, I placed them on the bottom of the canoe and 
looked expectantly at my hostesses. To my relief, they showed no unease or 
trepedation over what I had brough up.

Grandmother carefully picked up a creature that was a globular cluster of thick 
spines. "This we call 'corona'. They are not good to eat, but you can use the 
spines and shell for a few things."

"They remind me of something I have seen before, called a 'sea urchin'," I 
replied. "What about this?"

"That's a dead fish," said the granddaughter. "Something's eaten at it."

"Oh."

"This shell is quite valuable," said the old woman. She was examining a shell that 
had reminded me of a conch, but was rounder and smooth. "Once we remove 
the snail that lives inside it, you can break the shell apart. There are purple spots 
on the sides, and you may use them as currency."

I smiled. "Where I come from, it is these pieces of metal that are used as 
currency. Tell me about this plant."

"It's something to eat," she said. We three tore off pieces of the thick green leaves 
and placed them in our mouths. The taste was salty and the texture gummy, but 
it was filling. The thought came to me that, if one were on a journey into a 
foreign land and were in need of something to eat, this would be adequate food. 
The further thought occured that one could, perhaps, wring fresh water from it.

Thus I spent some of the late morning, in the company of my newfound friends 
and guides, learning the nature of the world I had been placed within. The heat 
of the day had begun to wax as I tired again, so Granddaughter and I undid the 
net anchor and we set off to our home. I paddled with much less vigor than 
before, though I received few taunts from Grandmother. The heat and the 
ocean's sounds lulled her, and she was content to doze and oversee me.

We landed, and I pushed the canoe up onto the beachhead. The two women 
unloaded the pliegalmejas, while I contented myself with dressing and collecting 
the shells and stones I had kept. When I offered to assist with the meal, or simply 
the unloading of the vessel, I was shooed away. I was told curtly that the 
cooking was none of my concern, but that I would be told when lunch was 
ready.

Stymied, and somewhat confused, I sat upon the beach to collect my thoughts. I 
had noticed that the old woman made special mention of her female children, 
and that I had been excused from certain duties; was this personal eccentricity, or 
evidence of a matriarchal society? A woman chose to cloister herself alone on an 
island, was this common?

Even more than the strange names and the hints that had filtered my way, I was 
curious to know about the people of the world around me. Soon--when I felt the 
time was right--I would ask permission to take the women to Rosado, and to 
perhaps explore some of this world. Grandmother's decisions notwithstanding, I 
felt a need to decide what was best for my life; and, at that instant, I did not 
believe that an island was the place to make such choices.

In the little time that I had thought this, my body and clothes had dried. I stood 
and stretched my body, feeling groups of muscles come to life below the sun. I 
closed my eyes tightly and turned my face towards the burning star; then, 
allowing my conscious mind to slip from me, I began a series of moves, not quite 
a martial art, not quite a gymnastic pattern, not quite a dance. I found a rhythm, 
and let it roll through my body, up and out of my chest, through my fingers and 
toes, and pulsing from the base of my spine to my head and back.

I felt myself in a place relative to the forest behind me, to the reef before me, to 
all the life that surrounded the island I moved upon. The sun in the sky filtered 
through the plant, to the animal, to the fungal, to the detrital, roiling and 
churning like a...

...a something I could not quite remember. Was it a lake full of fire? Hot mud? It 
had some name. I felt a twinge of frustration, and my rhythm was interrupted. I 
let my limbs sink again, and shifted my weight. I did nothing more than stand 
below the sun now, facing it through closed eyes.

A shout came from somewhere behind me. I turned my back and went in search 
of a meal.