The tide pulled out early that day. He had watched it for weeks, guarding that spit of dry land curving between the two bodies as if it mattered who came crawling off the mainland; he had rested, filled his gut, let the women tend him - but then the ghost happened. Firefly wouldn't let anyone near after that. Days wore on and his loathing festered; the confusion filling him, questions going unanswered as he fell in to a dangerous silence.
Until the day his post at the seaside was found empty. The compression of the dry grass beneath his body left an imprint of where Firefly had been laying, as he spent many hours there, watching, guarding, perhaps telling himself that he was protecting his new island home but - deep down, he wished the pale man would return again, give him a taste of - -
But he didn't. He wouldn't. Not after what Firefly had said - and so, one day that post was left empty. The trail of Firefly's steps led towards the exposed sand but as the tide slid effortlessly back in to place the trail was obscured. The man left the island without a word to anyone. It was better this way.
Until the day his post at the seaside was found empty. The compression of the dry grass beneath his body left an imprint of where Firefly had been laying, as he spent many hours there, watching, guarding, perhaps telling himself that he was protecting his new island home but - deep down, he wished the pale man would return again, give him a taste of - -
But he didn't. He wouldn't. Not after what Firefly had said - and so, one day that post was left empty. The trail of Firefly's steps led towards the exposed sand but as the tide slid effortlessly back in to place the trail was obscured. The man left the island without a word to anyone. It was better this way.
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