I woke up to very human fingers carding through my hair. Repulsion rocketed through my very core, jerking me into awareness too fast, too abrupt. No scales under my hands, I jolted upright and blinked ahead. Where was I?!

"Awake at last," Atlas chuckled and I turned a fraction to confirm. Yep, no more friend, all human and above the water. "How are you feeling?"

"Dazed," I honestly replied. "Um, where am I?"

"You do not remember? You were sunbathing near the Black Lagoon shore and you must have fallen asleep," He answered, frowning over to the water. "You missed breakfast."

"No, I didn't," I answered, rubbing my belly. The taste of slick meat and blood was still heavy on my tastebuds. "What time is it?"

"Lunchtime," Atlas answered, checking his watch (waterproof and one of those fancy ones that Uncle Adam loved). "You enjoyed your swim?"

My new friend was clearly hiding so I’d respect that and play along. I could go find him after I threw off any suspicious poking. "This place is amazing, how could I not?" I uttered, no pretence when I watched the still lagoon water with awe. My neck and sides started itching again.

“While I am very thankful you’ve already found something to love here, perhaps a meal would be welcome,” He offered and winked.

I nodded twice, limbs sluggish when I staggered up to my feet. I didn't want to move just yet but a towel and excuse to go wandering would help me outta here. "Allow me to accompany you for a nice warm meal. I was passing on my way to the restaurant when I saw you lying here."

Okay, sounds legit. I pasted on a small smile. "Sorry about that. I don't normally do this," I gestured lazily to the area around us and he swept his gaze around until he seemed satisfied with something. "Maybe a raincheck on that lunch. These bathers aren't really appropriate for a restaurant."

He pretended like he hadn’t seen my clear show of skin and bathers before, giving me a once over and nod. “You are right. Not the formal wear you would expect in a dining setting, as lovely as the colour is on you. You can use this to wear out and about.” He took a long swathe of coloured cloth from a bench not far from us and held it up. "The locals wear these. You wrap them around you like a skirt, tie it and then drape it over your shoulder. There’s a range of different folds and techniques. Would you like to try?"

“Really? They won't mind?” I chewed on my bottom lip, tasting salty water and the faint tang of iron. “These look amazing.”

“These are complimentary packages for VIP guests, which you are,” He answered and offered a folded swathe of silky cloth. The silvers and startling azure blue with vines of amber orange decorating the pretty paler blue were very eye catching. Light but durable, it didn’t tear when I pinched it between my fingers and tugged the fabric.

Atlas caught that, rifling through a lock box near the chair I woke up next to. "Would you like to find a matching bandgu? They're like a strip of cloth to go over your..." He gestured helplessly, awkward and bashful as his cheeks flushed pink.

I stretched my arms up above my head, shaking my head and feeling the wet strands slap against my back. "Like an Indian choli?" I asked and he nodded, clearing his throat.

"We have helpers on hand to assist guests in dressing and I could call one up when we reach the lobby for you."

"Isn't that too much trouble?" I asked and slowly pushed myself up until I sat straighter to meet his eye. "Maybe I should just go eat lunch in my room to save you the trouble."

"Nonsense. You have yet to taste the food our chefs have perfected over the many years. Everyone has enjoyed the phone at least once, it is seen as a guests’ rites of passage," He said as he waved off my excuse.  With no way of getting out of this without either Morgan pinching me for turning it down or Miles motherhenning me, I deflated. I pulled at my hair to pile it up into an extra messy bun.

"Okay. Just this once," I gave in and heaved myself up and onto my shaky legs. Balance on land became a bigger challenge after my extended dip into the lagoon and meeting my friend.

He stood up with me, brushing off sand and little bits of dirt from his slacks. "You are a strange woman," He remarked, brushing a hand through his windswept hair. "Come along, darling."

“D-Darling?” I choked, but he had turned away to pick up the cloth and a pin with a carved crescent moon. “What?”

“Come along, the changing rooms are all free for you,” He smiled. I shook out my legs and yawned. “You're still tired?”

“Mmm, kind of,” My fingers dug into the stiff ache in my shoulders and itched my chin.

He held out a soft towel. It brushed against my back and wiped away the stray patches of sand. My legs tingled, Atlas' thorough look catching my wince before I could hide it. The unfamiliar sensations faded as quick as they came and my skin didn’t feel like it would be fusing anytime soon. The almost oily coating along my skin kept it soft and supple, a lot thicker than I had been used to. It was a quirk that I had wiped away time and time again. My toes still twitched with residual shocks.

I glanced back to the still waters of the Lagoon and smiled fondly. Flashes of the new buddy I met down below gave me more reason to pretend to play along with Atlas. New Friend fed me fish, and kept me warm and safe while I had come to terms with a new appetite and neck flaps. I’d ask Miles later, get some (unofficial) diagnosis.

“You must be hungry,” Atlas said and I met his eyes. As handsome as he was, his scent felt thicker and slimy when I inhaled. I pretended to sneeze, hoping to hold my breath a little to minimise the exposure.

Less sandy and not as wet, I trudged up to the locker to pull out my own towel and bag. My hair didn’t drip too much so I tucked the towel under my arm. “I guess I could go for a little bite,” I murmured and double checked I had everything. “But Miles will be looking for me soon so I’ll have to go soon after. He’s a real mother hen and I wanna go scare him.”

“Scare, hm?” He grinned and nodded. “Your brother is very kind.”

“Of course he is,” I beamed and covered my lower half with the towel. “Miles likes to fret over us like we’re his hapless pups. Then again, I have given him a few premature greys.

Dressed in a way not for polite company, I didn’t take the offered arm this time. He led me up onto the trail, a much better established one that was more polished stone than dirt and wooden borders.

The main hotel up ahead had lovely stalls lining the walkway, a range of local and exotic meals and even a sign for a gift shop veering off onto another path. The people manning the stalls greeted us with with smiles but I didn’t know how much was customer service and what was genuine. I knew how annoying it got to serve specific customers and go on for days one end. I respected their polite approaches to tourists like myself asking about their products and drinks for sale.

“The market opens every second day,” Atlas said when I craned my neck back to eye the seaweed on display. “It takes place further inland and guests are invited to their weekend market, to join in the authentic experience of island life.”

Authentic brought haggling vendors and very nice displays to mind.

I’d happily offer up my money to filter in more for this island. That’s what savings were for.

The hotel looming ahead bustled with foot traffic and people reading from pamphlets. A busy hive of activity, the fellow tourists milling around the paths were a lot louder than last night. Above the archway leading inside were words carved into the stone. They were coloured with age and algae that hadn’t been scrubbed away.

Pausing to read it, the riddle-like sentences didn't rhyme. I caught the first few lines of ‘To the Mother moon who rose, to the Father Ocean who held the earth, their...'

“Something the matter?” Atlas interrupted and I resolved to come back later to read the rest better.

The lobby teemed with activity inside and I caught sight of a few Elders off to the side watching some tourists argue at the front desk. “Business never rests for any man,” Atlas joked when I glanced up to him in question. “We will take a detour. You will not find a better fit to help you dress.”

We turned sharply and down a passageway marked for ‘employees only’. The first door to the left set against the sea blue and foamy grey of the walls in the lobby had a pretty flower garland hanging on a nail. The black and silver stems woven into the base ring must be locally sourced.

This place could be called a mini maze with the twists we had to take to get to the cavernous room. Four women and two men were bent over floor looms, weaving and perfecting belts or swathes of beautiful cloth. The silk thread they used had a faint shimmer to them, looking so delicate but very hardy when they stretched across the weft.

I had enjoyed using a loom every now and then as my stress relief but their speed and dexterity put my past time to shame. I watched one woman swipe back and forth with a pretty pink on her stretch of half finished fabric. The boat shuttle flew back and forth as she hummed to herself.

I kept out of her bubble to the side so it didn’t seem like I snuck up on her and she flashed me a soft smile. “Lady, you are interested in the loom?”

I fluttered a hand cautiously out, delighted by the bright flower pattern and criss cross. “I like to weave at home but I could never be as good as you,” I breathed when she pressed down on the peddle and the loom shifted. “It’s beautiful.”

She giggled, ushering me over to her side. “It is a hard life, being mistress of the cloth. Do you like these colours?”

I nodded, eyeing the little squiggles in between that were starting to form fish. “You are amazing! I only started doing shapes last month. These are so clear and pressed in.”

“Here, watch,” She urged and I took in every little flick of her wrist and the ease she plucked out separate sections to create the patterns. She used a special little knot in one part to thicken it and make a centre for the half formed circle. Huh. “Dir’dir silk is our very own Isle specialty.”

I sniffed, leaning closer to the core threads with all shades of blue on them. There were greens, silvers and even a vibrant red. “It smells like the ocean,” I said, pointing to the silver one. It was finer than the others with a clear shimmer.

She held it out to me, dark eyes curved into crescents with her smile. “You like it?”

My fingers brushed over them, handing it right back before my greedy inclinations begged for some. “It’s so soft. Reminds me of home,” I said and heard a chorus of soft laughter. The other weavers smiled and shook their heads.

The lady I handed it back to gave my hand a gentle squeeze.

“I will make you a lovely outfit with it. Sakoko will make your scarf.”

Sakoko was a burly man with delicate hands and a jolly smile. The scar that dragged down the left corner of his nose was distinctive. “Dir’dir po silk is waterproof,” He said out of nowhere and I flushed. “Leave to us.”

“Th–Thank you so much,” I blurted, dazed by the sudden offer. “How much?”

“Pah!” The lady tapped the back of my hand. “No cost. Gift.”

Were there really such generous, genuine people to exist? What in all hells was this?

“Then you’ll have to let me give yous a gift in return,” I chirped once I gave in. “I’m Niamh by the way. Pleasure to meet you all.”

“You’ll be getting visitors,” The lady warned with a laugh. “I am Duinti Baba, but for you, Duinti-la. You are going to stay a long time.”

“I hope so,” I laughed at the certainty to her words. “I’m already making plenty of friends.”

Sakoko snorted.

“Niamh?”

I forced my face muscles not to scrunch up at the interruption.

“Yes?” I turned and caught sight of a woman beside a mannequin. She had been in the middle of stitching up a robe with pins with a wrist poof full of needles sticking out. Her cloud of black dreadlocks pulled away from her pretty face into a massive bun on her head. “Oh, hello!”

“Tol'sh,” Atlas greeted, voice softer, quieter than before. “I have a willing model for you.”

She dropped her hands from the material and grinned, eyes wrinkling at the corners. She rubbed her hands together, anticipating something.

Atlas stepping up beside me and guiding me closer had her smile dimming for a beat. She trailed her eyes over the close proximity between Atlas and I. To gauge more of her reactions and get away from the sticky body heat of Atlas, I stepped forward and away from Atlas and closer to her. I bowed my head a little, as the locals often did in greeting.

"It is lovely to meet you, I'm Niamh," I said and she smiled wider now. "As you can see... I don't have the proper clothes to be going anywhere decent at the moment."

"I'll fix that easy," She promised and I didn’t immediately revolt with her unexpected squeeze around my hand. "As you know, I am Tol'sh. I design and outfit a lot of our dancers and performers. The amount of thought one has to put into ceremonies is headache inducing as well.”

She spoke English so well, she may as well have been a native English speaker. The lack of America influence made me think British English. She was bright, excited and her bubbly approach made me think Morgan would love her.

She fluttered around me, humming and nodding to herself. “Your body is perfect for one of my newer garbs but you should... yes,” She darted back to the mannequin of leather and straw to pluck the pink shawl from its shoulders. “I have some extras I wanted to give a trial run. These are scraps compared to my finished sets so you are free to take them."

“Extras?” I echoed. They didn’t look like pieces that were expendable. The shawl even had pretty stitching along the edging.

Tol’sh chuckled as she hooked her elbow through mine to lead me over to a set of drawers. The middle drawer stuffed full of swathes of fabric that lacked the shimmer of the silk had neat lines of folds. These skirts were plain but ranged from white to a startling velvet blue shade. She urged me to the centre of a raised pedestal and brought a tape measure from one of the deceptive folds in her gorgeous green and orange wrap dress.

The tape wound around my waist, then hips. All the while she muttered to herself and raked assessing eyes over my figure. “You won’t be needing your towel,” She said and pulled out a pretty grey underskirt. It fell an inch above my ankles and sat loose instead of tight to my figure by the look of its pannels. “Feel,” She urged and I reached out, brushing fingertips over it. The smooth material didn’t chafe on my usually sensitive skin when my wrist was next. I had trouble with cotton for that reason.

“How?” I asked, dazed when she tucked it into my arms and I rubbed my cheek against it. “I’ve never felt this good since that expensive silk fabric years ago! It’s not even catching on my skin!”

She giggled, a hand cupped over her mouth. “I am glad you like it. We have plenty of these for sale and all.”