I'd be back for my beloved clothes, a rainbow of the silks and beautiful bandgu sets.

“I'll be back. Nothing can keep me away from this shop of wonders,” I grinned, glancing at the nameplate on the counter in the passing. “You have a wonderful day, too, Filsor.”

I left the cool air of the shop and out into the air starting to heat up.

A wave of hunger rippled through my gut with the scent of late lunch drifting from the hotel. Ordering room service would be my first step as soon as I go back.

Sand squished in between my toes on the way back to the bungalow. The extra bandgu would have to wait. I already had two but the one I wore was my favourite for now. Soft grey and lines of dark blue wrapped tight around my bust with faint wave-like ripples.

Closer to the bungalow, old videos and dance routine shorts kept coming to mind. Ghagra energy levels, the smooth grace of the Russian groups and the chaos of Ori Tahiti and their hips came to mind. I'd love to try out the sways, the swirling and jumps. Those dancing videos of other cultures with cups and bowls on their head would give so many inspirational ideas.

I mimed spinning my arm in a loose figure 8. Dips, spins, I'd be trying them all.

I heard Miles before I saw him. He stomped toward the bungalow as I rounded the corner of a rowdy beach house. He sported wild eyes, twitchy hands and hunched shoulders.

I launched myself at him and curled my arms around his neck. “Hey hey!” I crooned. “You okay?”

He blew a harsh breath from his nose. “I found this,” Miles answered, voice softening and bright eyes easing into a neutral expression that barely hid that he melted for this little creature. The little bird’s wing had a handkerchief wrapped around it.

The baby nestled in against his palms and trilled weakly up to its saviour. Miles had a way with animals that blew our minds many times over. He charmed feral cats, wild dogs. Even reptiles didn't outright attack or flee if he came across them. I leaned away, not wanting to scare the creature with my presence. Miles and his strained smile down to the the tiny beady eyes told me to prepare for comforting him if this baby died. He kept his voice low and soft. “She was lying near the pool, and everyone just passed her by like she was nothing!” He scowled. “She'll heal with some rest.”

“Not everyone has a heart of gold like you, Miles. It's no wonder you quit that architect job. You were born to work with and heal animals,” I gushed and he shrugged.

“You know as well as I do how my parents feel about that. They want me to have a stable, well paying job and savings before I consider studying for that,” He grumbled, but his fingers were tender as he stroked along the green feathers of the tropical bird.

“They say it cause they worry, but this is one of the first times they're wrong about something. We know that,” I huffed. I recalled their sad sighs when Miles had blurted out his future hopes of becoming a veterinarian with a specialisation in marine animals. “Let's get this little one back to the bungalow. I'm starving and she can have some of my fish," I trilled, skipping ahead. “I bought my own tuk'yim too!”

“I expected that,” He murmured, following at his more sedate pace. “What else?”

The curiosity was only half since when he had his precious bundle. “I got a classical ink and paper set. The locals have used these since forever ago. The nice lady, Madam Filsor, gave me an extra treat for free. It's supposed to be gifted to your lover, but can be given to family as well. For protection or something,” I shrugged. “I'll go back and get an extra few bandgu and silks another day. We still have over three weeks here.”

“Don't you find it strange that the trip is set for such a long period? They have around fifty people coming in every two weeks,” He thought out loud. The bungalow was in sight and he picked up the pace.

“I find it weird, sure, but it means less people go dipping into the Black Lagoon and tainting it,” I grinned while he mumbled to himself. We were both naturally suspicious people but he preferred recon and withdrawal instead of my bull headed approach. “Want to come to dance practise tomorrow night? We're learning more of the steps and more of the tuk tuk tuk song. You gotta sway your hips like... this!”

I swayed my hips as I walked, feet moving to a rhythm inside my head as I spun, and hopped, spun and waved my hands. He watched on with a fond smile and a cough. “Idiot,” He chuckled and picked up his pace.

I jogged to catch up with my friend and his injured feathered friend. I took out the tuk'yim by the steps onto the boardwalk and dipped the rim in the water. The grey, crystalline water sloshed in there. The sand packets could wait when I balanced it on my head and caught up to him.

“How do you do that?”

“I've always had good balance,” I shrugged while swaying my hips a little as we came up to the bungalow doors.

“That doesn't mean you should be able to hold a whole bowl of water on your head and make it look effortless after one lesson,” He pointed out and clicked his tongue when the bird twittered. The hand towels in the bungalow would be claimed soon enough for a recovery nest.

“Stop thinking too much,” I bopped his nose and opened the door, humming to myself. I tucked my hands behind my back. “Order us some fish?” I tried my best puppy eyes.

Miles shrugged, leaving for his room. He'd help the bird settle first then get us food. Morgan snored on when I leaned my ear near her door. Josh didn't snore but his room was dark from what I could see from the crack in the door. My new ink set had a place on the desk, then the little wooden bowls inside the top drawer.

“Niamh, I'm ordering us a lot of fish platters. Did you want sushi too?” Miles asked when I dropped to kneel on the ground.

“Heaps, please!” I chirped and arched my spine with a faint pop in my shoulder. I slowly slid out a leg, moving with the fluid transitions that echoed the waves and flowing up into a standing position. I rolled my hips, arms out and in a way to capture the rays that should be from the moon.

'Lady Lulsjah, do you think I could meet my new friend soon? I want to give him some molluscs and show him the strange book.’

Spin after spin sent me in wide circles and I practised my spinning dips to the rhythm in my head. The water sloshed twice but never spilled the wilder my tempo got. Lost in the music of my heart, I cracked open my eyelids (when had they closed?). Miles curled up in the armchair, watching me come to an unsteady halt in the middle of the lounge room. He shook his head while the bird on his lap twittered and flapped the good wing.

“Lunch is on the way. How's the spinning going?”

I grinned. “I'm auditioning for a hurricane.”

"You don't need to do that. Just open your mouth and we're already thrown for a loop.”

“Rude,” I sang and kicked my leg out, getting a feel for the feel of one foot positioning.

“Nee, think you could try that Gangubai dance with your bowl?” He asked and grinned when I groaned. One of my favourite dances to loosely follow, he knew I couldn't resist.

Garba dances I'd only felt safe doing in the privacy of my own room came to mind. I had to pay a lot more attention to my neck and head position while running through the start of Dholida.

After nearly dropping the bowl a third time, I gave up and took a break.

I carefully plucked the bowl off the top of my head and set it on the table in front of us.

“Does your new baby want something to drink?” l asked Miles and frowned at the pearly white water with no sign of the transparent grey.

Miles leaned back, poking his finger into the water. “It doesn’t have a scent. Maybe, maybe it’ll be alright. It’s just water. I can’t even smell the salt anymore.”

I whistled to the bird and lifted it with curled fingers. It didn’t immediate dive bomb Miles to get away and even chirped at the pearly water in the bowl. The decorative swirls of granite-grey in the bowl were barely visible. It didn’t take long to approve and dipped its head to drink. Miles got up to go fetch the room-er, bungalow-service at the door.

“See? I get that it’s not normal anymore but its tasty, right?” I asked the bird and, in a scary turn of events, it stopped its drinking to dip its head twice. Had Miles found a sentient bird that understood human speech? I saw that old black and white horror movie about killer birds and didn’t know if I should start preparing for murder by beak. Holy crap, I’d treat this thing like a king just so it wouldn’t have a vendetta.

It slipped away from my grasp to dive into the bowl. I scrambled to keep it from drowning. It rolled and flapped its wing like it was bathing and Miles came back over without panicking.

“They bathe themselves in ponds and puddles sometimes,” He assured and nudged me to the couch. “Get started on your mini mountain of seafood. I can hear your stomach making whale calls.”

I cleared six plates in record time and watched Miles ease the bird out of the bowl to dry it off and cradle it to his chest. The bird picked little seeds from his palm and I noticed the sluggish, pained croons it had been making stopped. By the time Miles ploughed through the three plates he ordered for himself, the wrapped wing twitched. Miles left the room with his new friend tucked into a bundle, seeds in hand.

Morgan came out while I poured the water into the kitchen sink. I washed it down with boiling water just to be extra sanitary. The bird had been swimming in it, after all.

She sat on the couch, hair tamer and a big yawn. I waited her out on the floor, flicking through the youtube videos on dancing with plates on your head. Some parts of India even had these massive pots stacked!

I almost lost track of why I sat out here until Morgan broke the silence. She cleared her throat, glaring out the open window.

I set my phone down and rested my forearms on the coffee table to drop my chin there. “So? Lay it on me,” I urged and noted her wince. “You think it's still fake?”

“That person who wrote the thing is either insane, or…” She paused, itching her shoulder. “I don't know. This whole island is changing things. I almost regret telling you to accept the invite.”

“Rude,” I snorted.

“No, I mean. You're different,” She pondered, fingers tapping a beat on her knee. “You eat fish, you get angry.”

“I always had anger issues and self-hatred. You know that. You used to like my mean-streak too. Now that I'm actually being myself you think it's weird?” I asked and watched her turn her head entirely to avoid my eyes. “Me eating fish isn’t crazy either. I've always wanted to have seafood but it was mostly cooked wrong and didn’t take right. Hells, I even have meat now. I’ve never felt so healthy as I do here. This is good for us."

“I don't know,” She murmured. “Not to mention the dreams…”

“What about?” I asked, fiddling with a serviette we hadn’t used from the lunch service.

Her nostrils flared with agitation. “Weird things. Like water swallowing you and Miles up, and now the stuff in that book,” She replied sullenly. “I was swimming and all of a sudden, you came up with blood all over you, Niamh!”

“Wow. Sounds sounds like we need to get me a leash. I don’t want to commit murder and have to be shipped off early,” I wriggled my toes. “But they're dreams. Remember that time you had dreams the world was going to end by way of zombie sheep so often you began trying to avoid them? You couldn't even look at a freaking stuffed toy without throwing it out the window. That hasn't happened yet.”

“Yet,” She corrected with her signature look of 'I-am-right-so-don't-argue-with-me'.

“Whatever you say,” I drawled. “But you shouldn't worry too much about the book. Even if they're real, what are the chances we'll actually meet one?” I had met one but she clearly didn’t seem as keen as I was. So, pretend, deny, cucumber cool.

I may have met one but it didn't mean I'd get to see a whole flock of those Nessie-look-alikes. No, I was not disappointed.

“I think I need to drink a whole bottle of the fabulous whiskey they make on this island of dreams and sleep through the next week,” She groaned. “Good night.”

“You slept not long ago,” I protested, at least fifteen different things that we could be doing, half of them with my new tukyim that she should be in awe of. “And I have so many things to show you in that beautiful souvenir shop near the hotel. We can even get you into a set of silk and a bandgu. You’d love some of the patterns.”

She rubbed her eyes. “Too bad. This stuff is just too much. I need sleep, and imma' get it,” Morgan groaned as she left.

“Ugh!” I flopped back onto the floor, almost banging my head against the solid TV stand. “I don’t get why you’re so shaken up about this but it’s not like people haven’t been making all sorts of fantasy up.”

She shook her head, “What about your picture?”

“What about it? You’re going to agree that he is cute?” I perked up. I knew she just needed a few hours to see the truth.

“What? No! That thing is a monster,” She snapped, shivering. Okay, drama queen much? “You can’t go looking for it either. We get through the month here and go back home, all in one piece. Even that scum, Josh.”

I didn’t answer. I’d agree to disagree and start her off on one of her long winded ‘I know better than you, listen to me’ rants. She went back into her lair and I flailed to get back up.

With Miles tending to his new friend, Morgan sleeping off whatever mood she landed in and Josh sulking in his room, I retreated too. Back in the relative safety of my own room with tukyim under my arm, I swayed over to the floor length windows.

The placid waters stretching out as far as the eye could see blessed everyone here.

Breath caught in my throat when a dark shape bobbed out of the water, the familiar cut of broad shoulders I had helped smooth out. My shoulder ached with how hard I waved his way. The shadow with two familiar silver eyes dropped back into the water, not leaving so much as a ripple along the surface.

Maybe a message in a bottle might get across to him better than just glimpsing each other.

I ran over to the desk and started organising my precious new writing set. A good ole' message in a bottle coming right up.