***
The same arm that made lifting things painful on shore, wouldn’t lift heavy things as well, that spasmed in her sleep, was far less of a hindrance in the water. She cut the surf gracefully, reaching the moon-marked expanses. She glanced over her shoulder a few times as she took breaths, seeing the safe caves and the lanterns recede. The moon was almost full, and the autumn storm season was still far off. It was peaceful. Her heart sang, exulting in the smooth motion and the water’s currents. It flowed around her easily, soothing and sweet on her skin. Even the sensation of a gish-shark against her leg didn’t bother her. It was a baby anyway, and they preferred fat blue sleekfish to bony humans.
When she was at the edge of the moon-touched algae, their phosphorescence gleaming greenly around her, she paused. This was the right depth for the oysters. She’d have to find them by touch, though; there was little light, and even the clear waters wouldn’t make finding her prize much easier.
Nothing to do but try, though. Spotting a likely patch of violet-shelled oysters resting on the bed, she took a deep breath and dove.
Fish darted around her, brushing against her naked skin, as Taba moved through the water. Her eyes didn’t sting—she was too used to the salt water to be bothered by it. It was deliciously warm-cool, currents brushing against her skin, washing away the carefully applied markings as she paddled around.
Her lungs started to itch, but she ignored them. Wrapping her fingers around the largest shell, she tugged it from the bed and put it in the pouch on the belt around her waist.
She started to rise—but paused. A much larger gish-shark was in front of her, its black eyes surveying her with ancient coolness. Taba’s lungs burned as she looked right back at it. This gish-shark was big enough to take a nice bite out of her, if it wanted. She prayed for a moment that she could blend in with the dirt, but there was no point in hoping for that. The clouds of silt in the disturbed water would make it attack for sure. And besides, it had smelled her and seen her. Hiding was impossible.
It swam around her side, its rough yellow skin rasping against her own, and circled again. Taba prayed furiously to Syth, the predator-god, asking him to spare her for today. The shark’s golden skin, tinted with green, was sickly against her brown complexion, sun-darkened. The deep, infinite blue waters swallowed her people once in a while, but today, Taba prayed furiously, was not her day to rejoin the mother.
The shark circled again, and her heart pounded. She willed herself to be still, though her lungs were ready to burst.
Then, she saw it—a wounded hexapus wriggling along the bed, dragging a white-fleshed, black-spotted arm.
The shark didn’t waste any time. It darted at the hexapus, taking a bite of the creature’s rubbery head, and started to shake it.
Taba paddled upwards, breaking the surface, and gasped in relief. “Thank you, Syth,” she whispered. Her prize in hand, she slowly swam back to shore, her weak arm shaking a little with each stroke.
As Taba emerged from the water, the elders, her parents, and the other adults and children greeted her with a shout. Taba managed a weak grin.
“There was a gith-shark,” she said. “But Syth had a hexapus for it.”
“Do you have your oyster?” asked Corr, concerned. Behind her, Taba’s parents glanced at each other nervously. Not getting your pearl the first time wasn’t unusual, but not getting an oyster at all was very bad luck.
Silently, Taba proffered her oyster. Corr pulled out a large, fine steel knife with elaborate, asymmetric carvings in its hilt and cracked the shell open deftly.
There was a long pause, and fear washed over Taba. The moon had risen fully, and she didn’t want to face the gith-shark again. Let me be an adult, she prayed. Let me have passed the test.
Next to her, Ran and Nie gasped. Corr offered Taba a rare smile. “It seems Qija has smiled on you,” she said gently.
Glistening between her fingers was a large, iridescent black pearl. It was a little odd in shape, but very large, and with fine orient—it glowed in every colour, reflecting the lamplight on its creamy grey and blue surface. A black pearl. A laughter-tear of Qija, the goddess of luck and love.
Taba raised her hands high and whooped, and an answering call echoed from every adult and child in the village. She had succeeded.
Corr took the empty pouch from around her own neck, where it nestled between her softly sagging breasts next to her own worn amulet, and put the pearl in it. She put the amulet around Taba’s neck. The embroidery in red and purple thread rasped against Taba’s bare skin.
“You’re a woman, Taba. Rise, and make us proud.” Corr’s eyes glistened with tears. “But first, we’ll feed you up!”