Zipora saw the glowing and flickering in the sea and instantly knew she hadn't been hallucinating six months ago. Zipora had no better friend than the sea, but it hadn't always been like that. As a child growing up in Ozama village, her childhood had been a mixed bag of love, mischief, and debilitating fear, in that order, as she grew.

It was all love until she was eight when her favorite person, her father, Chief Mozipa, was killed in an overnight raid. Young Zipora's grief response was mischief that was thought uncharacteristic of a girl in a deeply patriarchal society. But no one had grasped the fact that if it hadn't been that, then she would have cried every day for her father, so she compensated with mischief. Then, a debilitating fear that she may not grow and live like the rest of the women of the village.

She would hide in the ships of the sailors as they went out to the sea because she had a fascination with islands. They represented something poignant, a loneliness that mirrored exactly what she felt following her father's death. The sound of nature on uninhabited islands gave her momentary relief until it became lonely. It was often after three days or so that her mother realized she was missing, and the sailors would instinctively know she had been left on one of the islands, uninhabited because of the many dangers Zipora overlooked.

Then, her mother would bitterly scold her when she was found. It would reach a point when she would run out of energy and just stare at Zipora, repeating the one statement that made her weep. "I miss him too, but he's gone. Don't make this any harder for the both of us." But eight years after that fateful night that changed Zipora's life and took away the man she loved, she knew the reality of her situation.

She didn't, at any time, consider she would be like any other girl in the village. At a time when they were expected to be married at fifteen, she had run out of the houses of two prospective husbands; warriors who had been warned of even considering being betrothed to an unruly and untamed girl. Zipora was sixteen, seemingly the black sheep of all women in the village who were attached to some man in the village, and her presence at sea unwelcome by the village and culture, but they let her.

The village council had sat a year ago and decided that if marriage and conformity wouldn't suit Zipora, then she had quickly become an outcast. Zipora was then ordered to join the night watch of the sea, constituted in response to the barbaric attack that killed her father. A task she had considered noble, even when it eerily related to her father's demise, and embarked on.

But on the fourth night of sailing alone at sea in the night, she was growing weary of the task and sought to sail away to her freedom. It was the same night that the sea flickered and glowed, startling her at first, but her curious nature instantly took over. She darted her eyes around to see if anyone saw what she saw, but there was no one around, as the boys she had been given for company posited it as a bad omen to sail with her.

She rowed the boat toward the glow and flicker, and like in a disco ball, different colors of light became even brighter. The disturbance of water indicated a swimmer, but the flickering confused her. When she got close, movement stopped, and all she could see was the dimming of lights as the object of fascination sank. She quickly abandoned her boat to dive in and first part she took hold of was a hand.

The deep-seated need to retrieve the creature overrode her fear, and only realization came to her when she held onto a hand with a hard, scaly feeling to it. The glowing and flickering had stopped; she held onto what felt like a waist and hoisted the figure above water and frantically searched for the boat she had abandoned. She sighted it drifting but close and swam toward it.

Fighting untidily, she hoisted what was a figure of a naked petite woman onto her boat. Zipora looked on curiously and wondered where the scales had gone. She didn't look older than ten and slept soundly without incident. Then Zipora had quickly remembered that she was freezing and wrapped her in her woolen cardigan and rowed ashore for help.

However, as soon as she was ashore, the girl woke up and, without a word, dived back into the sea, leaving Zipora perplexed. She had sailed out to sea every night alone, hoping she would catch a glimpse of the mysterious creature, but it hadn't happened for six months. And now, staring ahead, she saw the glowing and knew that was it. But she wasn't alone anymore; she had company, another outcast of the village who had been expressly denied permission to sail because of his disability - a mangled left leg that severely limited his movement. He was called Aya, and he was 12. Unlike Zipora, the sea fascinated him, and he immensely loved Zipora for according him the opportunity that was denied him by everyone.

"What's that?" Aya asked curiously, never doing much except rowing, eager to be useful.

"That's what I want to know too," Zipora replied.

"Why are you so calm about it?" Aya asked, perplexed, because he was overcome with fear that it was approaching.

"Because this isn't the first time," Zipora said nonchalantly.

"What does that mean?" he asked.

But before she could answer, the creature with glowing scales swam around the boat, causing it to wobble, and Aya cried, knowing he would die if it capsized. Zipora did her best to steady the boat, but it was all in futility until it capsized. Gasping for air, they could see their lives flash before their eyes, and the only comfort was that it would soon be over. Zipora and Aya would die at sea, and no one would miss them.

Zipora was the first to wake up, tired and aching in the joints. When her last memories came to her, she darted her eyes about, searching for Aya, but he was nowhere to be seen. Zipora lay in comfortable bedding in a room that seemed to be glowing and ever-bright, with white walls, clean air, and a massive window ushering in the sound of waves. Zipora breathed a sigh of relief, knowing they had been rescued, but never grasping how, since they were far off.

A woman walked in with a tiara on her head, tall and dark-skinned, with an infectious smile that evoked the same response from Zipora.

"Thanks for saving me, but where is Aya?" Zipora blurted.

"You were never in danger!" the woman said.

"What do you mean?" Zipora was perplexed.

"Drowning you was the only way to get you here."

"Here? Where? Am I dead?"

It was at that moment that she saw Aya being ushered into the room, walking upright and smiling.

"I'm definitely dead," she mumbled under her breath.

"Hmm... you're in my kingdom, under the water world, and I'm here to show my gratitude for saving my daughter."

It still didn't make sense until Zipora saw the daughter walk into the room, and it was the frail girl she had pulled out of the water six months ago.

"I didn't do anything," she said. "She looked like she was made for the sea; I'm not sure she would have drowned anyway."

"Those few minutes you kept her out of the water meant her attackers, our enemies, couldn't find her. Those few minutes were the difference between life and death."

Zipora felt a warmth in her heart that only felt even better when the girl ran to her and hugged her.

"You're my esteemed guests now. You can stay for as long as you like, even if it's forever, and if you're ready and want to return home, I will have gifts ready for you."

The queen and princess left Zipora and Aya alone in the room.

"Do you want to return to the village?" Aya asked. "I don't; I can walk here."

"There is little for me there too. We should stay."