A vacation was a time for rest, relaxation. 

Day five sprang up with a glorious sunrise and only a little murmur threading through the cracked windows.

Miles deserved a sleep in and I had an itch to draw after gorging on five plates of fish and one bowl of prawns and scallops. Stomach full, I sprawled over the floor in a bandgu and the underskirt, pencil to paper.

My new friend's lovely eyes and jaw needed a little reworking to get the shape right and I kicked my feet to a beat in my head. His hair fluffed up in for this one, a few stray curls that had defied the wet weight.

The clock beside my bed read 9:42am when the bungalow front door burst open. The pencil tip hovered over the grainy page as I listened to the hurried foot falls approach my door.

Morgan burst into the suite, hair loose and bouncing into her wide eyes. I waited for her to come to an unsteady stop, still wearing her outside shoes, the heathen. She didn't break the loaded silence with words. She slapped a hand over her beaded handbag (she’d been going through a Wiccan phase in high school). Strange, dazed behaviour aside, I leaned back on one arm to let her fumble her way into a nonverbal mess.

She finally managed to pull a nondescript book from her handbag.

She threw the book (wrapped loosely with a leather strip) down by my side. A closer look revealed that its leather was well worn. A big 'PLEASE DON'T OPEN!' scrawled over the leather flap in blue ink. “That kind of defeats the purpose of a book, doesn't it?” I asked, bemused when I tipped my head back to watch Morgan run an agitated hand through her hair. “You wanted to show this to me, why?”

“I opened it,” She stated and I snorted.

“Obviously. Why print that on the front if you weren't encouraging curious people to actually ignore the words?” I mused. “This book is old too.”

“It's... you should open it,” She breathed, looking pale and worried when she dropped down on my bed.

“Unlike some people, I don't ignore warnings, no matter how ineffective they may seem,” I drawled and pushed the thing away from me. My new friend's portrait was almost done. My tongue poked out while I tried to get the angle right his throat and broad slope of his shoulders.

Morgan threw herself off the bed and stalked over to me, plucking up the book. She pulled the leather strap away, clenching her teeth and flipping through the thick pages. She grimaced at my picture. “What is that thing?!”

“I don't know. And he's not a thing,” I rebuked while my fingers clenched around the HB pencil.

“He is ugly. What is it?” She asked, looking from my frown to the page again.

“I don't know. Okay? But he's... he isn't ugly,” I argued, smoothing down the paper down Where it started to crinkle with my careless arm positions. “He isn't.”

“Cheating on Atlas, are you?” She asked, forgetting her anxiety for a moment to smirk.

“Wha-no! I don’t even know him, Morgan, or want to,” I growled, oddly possessive and protective for my friend I was spending so much time trying to draw. Already, his gentle silver eyes were coming into shape and I curled my wrist to make a better sweep of lead for the brow line. “So, what is this book and why are you so shaken?”

She heaved a long sigh, leaning back and rocking forward. “When I was with Qeha, we were fooling around in one of the hammocks, and let me tell you, that boy can kiss.” She sighed dreamily. I spied a few bruises that looked like love bites on her neck and bare shoulders but kept my silence. This was normal for her. “Anyways! He got called over by two Elders and had to leave early. I was going to go buy some pretzels at the hotel vending machine when I kicked this with my toe. I thought one of the tourists had lost it.”

I decided against correcting her that we were also one of said tourists but let her go on. Her fingers twitched as they clutched the bound book in her lap. The shorts she wore were stained with water and some ice cream, but she didn't care at the moment.

“I opened it…”

“Even with the warning. Yes, I gathered that,” I nodded and prodded her with my toe when her eyes became glassy and terrified.

“It... the things inside…”

“Pictures?” I asked, taking a stab at it and was rewarded when she swallowed.

“Yes,” She croaked. “They're... it's like creatures of the deep. Stuff I've never seen or thought were possible.”

“What kind?” I urged.

“Like your drawing…”

“Oh?” I perked up. “Really?”

“It was like human hybrids... terrifying really. One of them had strange gills growing from their sides and neck. I nearly vomited at a particularly graphic one,” She shivered and opened it up to a particular page.

“This is what got you all in a tizzy?” I scoffed. “'The Lish'poi. Remnants of the orca genus, their gills do not emerge,' cool. Can I keep this for a little while?” I looked back up to where she was gaping at me. “What did I do?”

“You can understand this?” She croaked and I rolled my eyes.

“Of course. The words wriggle a little, like fish trying to rearrange themselves. But it's still clear. You can read English too, Morgan. No need to be so shocked,” I snorted and took the book from her numb hands. “Oh! There he is!”

My squeal made her almost faint as she clutched her head. I pushed up and onto my feet, shoving her onto my bed to lie down. “Geez! I don't know why you're acting like this. But this guy looks amazing. Though many friend has better eyes. These look like crude etches of him. His tail is nicer too, but at least they included the barbs.”

She made a soft sound of shock before sitting up and dragging me to follow her example. I caught myself before I went falling into her lap as she clutched at my shoulders. “What do you mean?”

“I've seen him. Or well, someone similar,” I shrugged and she made a terrified squeak. “Yeah. He can make human noises, but he clicks more than anything. Like a dolphin. It says 'Lu'pi'. Must be something in the local dialect. But it says he has an alternate form. This is his hunting persona. He can go without the bottom jaw being so... toothy. I wish he'd show up and then maybe I could ask him!”

“You've seen this thing and you're not freaking out?!” She shrieked.

“One, he is not a thing. Two, he's a softie. So he has claws, a huge mass of scaly muscles. He's never hurt me. If anything, he helped. Three,” I rubbed my chin trying to find another point. “I've got nothing. But I think you'd like him. At least I think it's a he. It says here sexual dimorphism is found similar to humans. Women of their species have lumps like us and not the package the male is born with. Ooh! They enjoy molluscs rather than fish. Maybe I could take some with me next time I swim in the waters.”

“You can't be serious in thinking about going back out to swim near this thing!” She squawked and I glared at her.

“Stop calling him a thing. He is just as much a living, thinking, breathing person as you or I, with some additional features. He's sweet,” I finished and caught the moment she gave up on me. She shook her head like a dog shaking off water.

“Screw this. I'm going to go nap and hope this is all a dream when I wake up,” She grumbled.

“I wouldn't count on it. I'm keeping this,” I smiled. “Sweet realities.”

“You're so weird,” She mumbled, thoroughly vexed.

The moment she closed the door behind her, I turned all attention to the book. I sifted through page after page of fantastical creatures I was beginning to believe myself. If I'd met a Lu'pi, who was to say I couldn't meet one of the others?

Three hours later saw me skipping out of the bungalow, hoping to buy another bandgu.

I had saved and scraped whatever I could get to get to now, with over 8k for emergencies. I had extra tucked away in a separate account for bills, extra ready to be spent.

The 'ink set' I had seen some locals writing with would be an amazing find in the souvenir shop. Unprocessed pressed bark-paper were their favoured medium to write on. A lot of the vendors had notices written on them in different shades of ink.

I followed the three signs up to the 'gift shop' and had a pep to my step. The open sign was flipped and I took note of the small army of security cameras. Gorgeous charms dangled above the awning. I wasn't the only one barefoot and the conscientious habits of everyone here kept the place nice and clean.

Fellow guests of the island milled around, some children cracking a wobbly or two. I thanked the lady moon that those families didn't go into the shop.

I ducked under the silk hanging up like a fly-screen and sniffed the air.

Smack dab in the centre of the closest display table, the set I had been fanging for.

A lacquered box of beechwood and twenty triangular bottles of different inks were stacked. A whole slab of finely pressed bark sheets sat snug in a separate tray. A long piece of twine wrapped around seven different brushes, all with elegant handles carved into fish tails at the ends.

I gently picked one of the sample brushes from the stack, brushing my fingertips along the carved pattern. They really knew how to balance these and collect such nice hairs. Probably pig or boar.

Some were so fine, they could be a ball point pen.

Around the display tables, more charms and gorgeous knick knacks caught the lantern light. The sunlight filtering in from the open windows threw off gorgeous shades from frosted glass.

One stray green flash hit a clay bowl.

A whole shelf of tuk'yim bowls took up an entire wall, two shelves worth. I wove in and out of stocked wire racks and tables laden down with the merchandise only this lovely island could offer.

Roughly carved wooden boards all wrapped and pressed together to form the shelving unit. I imagined the shelves were an artwork all on their own when I noticed the lack of dust. My fingers skimmed over the varieties in size and colours of bowls on the middle rows. The slightly flared rims of each and every bowl were smooth under my fingertips.

My eyes caught on a soft maple brown bowl with accents of water lilies and elegant lines (creatures of the sea). Some symbols I recognised wove in and out of each and every little line.

“Can I help with anything?”

I sniffed as the stranger, an elderly lady, stood outside my personal bubble. I smiled back and hoped it wasn't all teeth. “I was wondering if there were any bowls that fit a medium head in this design?”

“This one is large base, so no. We have this one,” She gestured with her whole hand to another. The soft pearly white had the same patterns, though a little smaller. The bowl’s inner dip had a spiral carved into the sanded surface.

“I love it,” I breathed, watching her pick it up and turn it around and look under it. The little information plaque by the display tukyim mentioned sand crystals that would be rubbed into the dip that your head would go. The crushed powdery sand particles actually dyed your hair (the roots) if you kept it on your head long enough. I would be testing that out as soon as I could.

‘Before any dance, the head mount is rubbed with a thin cloth coated with dyed grains. The sand will not only soak up the sweat of the dancers but also assist with extra grip while dancing. A side effect of this practise is that the roots of your hair will be dyed any colour you choose.’

I would cry later, when I had a veritable stash of colored sand.

“Would you like to try?” She asked, catching my hazy stare and giggling behind her hand. “I take that for you to the counter?”

“That'd be amazing, thank you,” I agreed and handed it over. I set the bowl on my head and rolled my shoulders, getting a general feel for the weight on my head. If Morgan asked about my purchases, I'd let her know it was a great way to exercise.

I saw a few of the native women making up their own dances along the beach with these on their heads yesterday. Now I could do it too.

“It feels perfect,” I told her when she came sweeping back to check on me, doing a full spin as the final test. “Are the sand and coloured grains sold separately?”

“Together. You can't have one without the other,” She smiled, nodding to the rack of bagged grains.  The fabric bags and cloth covered bowls were there, along with the option to refill said containers. “Not many of sell. These mainly for our people and ceremonies. This shop is storage and little surprises for guests. Most rented out.”

“How disappointing. It's lovely, and dancing with them is so much fun,” I sighed, running my finger along the rim and turned it upwards to catch the sunlight. “Being here for a few days already makes me think I'll be homesick for this place when I have to get back on that boat.”

She laughed, but a look of certainty flashed over her wisened teak brown eyes. “Any colour, pick you like,” She gestured to a rack with packets of the grains to be rubbed into the bottom of the tuk'yim. “Ten packets.”

“Ten? That's amazing,” I whispered before picking up five white sand packets and then two of the paler blue on display. Three left. With wandering fingers, I plucked up a pretty seaweed green, azure blue and a little random colour of lavender purple. “Done and done.”

“Very nice choice. Black sand crystals personal favourite of girls. My son likes deep brown,” She remarked and led me over to the counter where a sealed set of inks and writing utensils piled on the cluttered counter. She fished out a key and unlocked the wall mounted glass case behind her. She took out an azure blue cube of wood. She dropped it into the tukyim along with the sand in the cloth covered bowls. “Free with your purchases,” She beamed.

“Thank you,” I grinned, too excited to care if I was acting weird.

“A special pendant that many young ones give their significant other. Like a lover talisman. It protection. Many give to siblings or family and the charm just as good,” She told me. “We have others. Good luck, wishes, all blessed in the Spring of Mother Moon.”

“I'm honoured,” I bowed my head. “I'll choose very wisely who to give this gift to.”

“$38. 90 total,” She chirped.

“Good thing I exchanged for cash, or I'd have to run to the Dir'dirs' embassy's currency office,” I mused and fished out two twenties. I handed them over and told her to keep the change. “Those shawls over there are gorgeous, were they all locally handcrafted silk?”

"Every last weave," She smiled, handing me the paper bag laden down with my purchases. Black Lagoon printed in elegant lettering across it and I bowed my head to her again, to show my thanks. “Have a lovely stay here, dear.”