I’m strolling the six feet of visible sand left by low tide when Maila, our loyal whale shark watchdog, swims up to the edge to alert me to a nearby vessel. I thank her and head to the edge, climbing so that my eyes are just above the level of the island. I love to watch the storms that come to drive the ships away; they’re exciting. In our hidden paradise, we get rain, but never the violent thunderstorms that happen aboveground. I smile a little as I see the clouds begin to gather.

I gasp when the ship I was warned about comes into view. It’s the biggest one yet: a cargo ship that looks like it holds a lot. As the storm gathers, I find myself hoping the ship doesn’t get ripped apart like the last one – this monster looks like it might hold oil, which is a pain to clean up. The clouds begin to spin and I think they’re forming a hurricane this time. Darn. Hurricanes are no fun to be in, even when you’re in the eye. I duck back into the mountain and climb down the wall.

My youngest sister, Kitten, runs towards me. She stops a couple feet away, looking like she’s about to cry. She hates these storms – the wind and thunder scare her – so I start singing. I quickly draw a crowd of young kids, all hoping I’ll offer them comfort while their parents work.

“Now you’ve got a house

That’ll keep you warm,

Right here with me,

Safe from harm.”

“Don’t worry ‘bout the thunder,

Don’t worry ‘bout the rain,

Right here with me

There is no pain.”

“Don’t be scared,

It’ll be alright,

Right here with me,

Throughout the night.”

They calm down quickly and start dancing in the rain. I smile slightly and step away to talk to my brother. “We might have a mess to deal with. That ship looked like it might have held oil.”

He nods. “We’ll go up to check once the storm dies down. I suspect we’ll have a pretty big wreck to clean up either way.”

We work together, rounding up everyone under the age of four and herding them into the nearest training gym. We work them through fighting sets and gymnastics maneuvers until word comes that the sky is clearing. Taylor, one of my sisters, comes in to help them cool down from the exercise.

Ethan and I climb up to the surface and look around. The clouds are indeed dispersing, leaving an absurdly blue sky in their place. We scan the surrounding water until we find all the debris floating away from the same heap of rapidly sinking metal. Ethan curses under his breath as we see the decidedly black sheen on the surface of the water. “We’re gonna have fun cleaning this one up. That’s a lot of oil.”

“Yeah.” One of the nearing pieces of litter has someone laying on it, seemingly unconscious. I scan the wreckage again and see no one else, but we slip back into safety anyway, alerting the village to the situation and warning everyone to stay down here until we know who this person is and whether it’s safe. Then Ethan volunteers us to keep an eye on the person and Mom assigns Taylor to oversee the cleaning of the waters.

The next day, we climb up to the entrance again, just as the human wakes up. We’re both startled to see that it’s a girl, no older than about eight. Strangely, she seems to be developed the way she would if she were Grashien. She groans and sits up, still clinging to the piece of metal that saved her life as she looks around. “Where am I?” She asks herself, sounding scared. “Oh no,” she gasps, “I’m stranded! Where’s my backpack?”

Just then, Maila swims by, gently nudging a certain cloth bag toward her. She doesn’t seem to notice the massive shark, instead just snatching the bag out of the water to check if the contents are salvageable. “Thank goodness my bag is waterproof,” she mutters. “At least I’ll have something to eat and maybe even water if I remembered to pack it the other day.”

She finally looks around and sighs. “Nothing to eat here, I guess,” she says, sounding resigned. “I wonder what’s through that hole?” She crawls over and Ethan and I move out of sight. She gasps. “I’m on a volcano!” Then she pauses. “Wait a second…” she sticks her face over the opening again and cringes at the (imagined) heat. Then she leans back and pats herself down, noting that she is entirely unharmed. “Strange.”

Two days of constant watching later and we’re a little worried. She’s done pretty well living out of her backpack, but she’s running out of food. Based on the way Maila and the other animals have reacted to her, I’m willing to bet she’s at least half Grashien, but I’m pretty sure both her parents were from Gras because her body is too developed for an eight-year-old of half parentage.

Today, she seems to be growing desperate. She’s crawled over to the entrance five times already and keeps trying to convince herself (out loud) that the heat isn’t real and can’t actually hurt her. Her next comment, though, worries us more than any – “Well, burning to death in a volcano is at least better, and faster, than sitting out here slowly starving to death.” I shoot Ethan an uh-oh look and scramble down the wall to warn Mom.

“Alright,” she says. “Cat, what’s your opinion?”

I pause and try to decide what to say. My mom, the Sumna, is probably the most respected person in the whole village, and if either of us makes the wrong decision, the whole village may suffer. “Mom, she’s at least half Grashien, but based on her physical development, neither of her parents are human. She’s young, no older than eight or nine, and looks like she’s got no one back home. I think if she actually does jump, and survives the fall, we should take care of her; if she doesn’t jump, I’d bring her down tomorrow night at the latest.”

She nods. “I will watch with you for the rest of the night, try to gauge her. Unless I see something that proves you wrong, we will do as you have suggested.” I nod and we climb to the top. Ethan raises an eyebrow at Mom. What’s going on? Why are you here? His telepathic voice sounds surprised.

Mom shrugs, not an easy thing to do when your arms are helping hold you up. I decided to trade off with you tonight. I want to get a feel for who this girl is. Have you tried to read her mind yet?

We both shake our heads. We didn’t feel like we should. She seems sweet, innocent, and harmless enough, Ethan says, looking a little embarrassed. Plus humans have this thing about privacy, and we didn’t think we should violate that.

She considers this. Probably smart. If she doesn’t jump by tomorrow night, we will take her in anyway. Mom smiles. And she really is cute, you know. Ethan blushes at Mom’s hidden suggestion and climbs down.

The next morning, the girl groans when she opens her eyes. She crawls over to the edge (Mom and I make sure we’re fully hidden), then returns to her bag to assess her food supply and sighs. She stands up and makes her way to the edge of the water, which she stares at moodily.

Three hours later, Mom turns to me. Go get your brother. I need to make preparations. She gives me a stern look. And I’m expecting you to be her Gralentra.

I nod. I was planning to be anyway, but I’ll find Ethan. Wait, no, actually, Ethan should be sleeping. Is it okay if I get Lea instead? She smiles and nods, so I climb down and get my identical twin sister, Alitra, who goes by the nickname of Lea.

“Lea! Come on, I need you,” I say when I find her, practicing her staff work.

“What? Oh, hey Cat. Sure, I’m coming.” She follows me up the wall and trades out with Mom. Okay, so we’re just waiting for what? Sundown? Or do you think she’ll jump?

I don’t know. I know she was considering it yesterday, But whether she will or not before sundown is up to timing, I say. We just have to wait. It’s not like you don’t know what’s going on; quit asking questions you already know the answer to.

She smiles and we wait. An hour and a half before sundown, the girl walks up to the edge and looks like she’s about to jump when she suddenly stops, groans, and mutters, “I’m just not ready, apparently. I’ll do it later.” I shoot Lea a look, but she’s already scrambling down the wall to tell Mom.

She comes back only minutes later. Remind me again why we aren’t allowed to just fly back and forth to the floor, she groans.

I assess her scrapes. You’re fine. Besides, the reason for that particular stipulation is standing right in front of you, I remind her. Now, what does Mom say?

That it’s time, Lea says. Go tell her. I’m right behind you. I take a deep breath, then vault myself out.