Excerpt from Professor Abigail Gideon to her husband, 1925
"What we found most interesting was the complete lack of human settlement in the island chain 9,000 years before present to the voyage of Thorkyr. Was it possible that the disaster which caused the collapse of Shearpoint cave diminished the population to unsustainable levels? This is highly irregular for a culture that was also known for some seafaring capability. Was there a willingness to migrate out of the islands for some unknown reason?"
***
Taquan sat at the hearth, stroking the fire lazily with a blackened bone. Beside her, Sanquan gazed into the flames as she held her sleeping child on her lap. Her shoulders were slumped downwards and tired wrinkles were etched around her eyes. They both were exhausted after a long day of fishing and preparing supplies. A few strides away, Annsa paced with hands above. Her shells and beads jingled in the afternoon breeze, as she muttered prayers to the spirits for a safe journey. Further still, she could hear muffled sounds of Kunqq and Tunqquallk loading supplies onto their raft. Taquan's eyes glazed over felt the heat of the fire on her face. As she peered into the dancing flames she saw the shapes of people running, of boulders falling, of wind blowing them away. Shivers coursed down her spine as the flames conjured images of rock and flesh getting ground together.
She must have been staring at the flames for a long time because as she snapped out of her stare she heard Sanquan asking for her. "Taquan Are you okay?" Sanquan gave a concerned look. "Taqu, are you okay?"
It felt like Taquan held a heavy stone in her belly. For a moment, Taquan was ready to tell everything that gnawed at her. All the days she thought about the night of the great shake and all the days she thought of the gentle face of her mother, her siblings, and all those she would never see again. The stone rolled around in her insides. Instead she replied flatly "I'm fine."
Sanquan's tired laugh lines hardened into a knowing glance. She roused her child from his slumber "Kuna, go help your father and Tunqquallk, they need you to bring the supplies to the boat". The child rose sleepily but with youthful energy was bounding toward the shore in an instant, eager to help. A bolt of annoyance flashed through her mind. Taquan could immediately tell what was going on.
"I really don't want to talk about it. Please." Taquan began to look intently away at the forest beyond their tiny camp.
"No Taqu, I'm not going to ask you about that night" Sanquan sighed and began to fidget with a stray thread on her wrappings. "I'm just concerned."
Taquan whipped her head around. Her eyes flashed in the firelight. "Concerned? About what exactly?" she sternly spat out.
Sanquan stopped her fidgeting and continued unfazed. "I know that this voyage we are planning will be risky, and potentially dangerous, and I wanted to know how you were feeling".
Taquan sarcastically laughed. Emotions she normally suppressed bubbled up like geysers. "Feel? You mean how I feel about being on that rickety bundle of sticks in the sea? What's the worst that could happen? We get crushed against the rocks? Or we float off into the waves never to be seen again? Perhaps eaten by a giant walrus? Oh now it can't be worse than seeing people get smushed into paste before your eyes right? After all death is death is it not?"
Sanquan sighed and her brow furrowed "Taqu, I-"
"Sanquan, I am not your Taqu, please stop calling me that! All the time you try to mother me and Tunqqualk, but we aren't your children! We're already old and pitiful like you. Take care of your own child and just leave me alone!"
Sanquan sprung up from the hearth, face red. "I... I'm going to see if the men need any help". She hurried to the beach.
For a moment, Taquan stewed in her thoughts. Awful memories darted in and out of her mind like so many bats. Attempting to escape them, Taquan got up from the hearth and began to walk towards the trees along the beach. As her feet sunk into the sand, she thought about the fight she had with her mother that night her world ended.
She remembered how stupid that fight was, over sleeping in instead of working with the other women to catch fish that morning. She remembered how her mother gently pleaded her to be more responsible, to work harder for everyone's benefit. She remembered how she had spit so much vitriol at her mother, and wished her mom to forever let her be.
Taquan remembered how she stormed out of their cave shelter and the winds shrieking past her. How she angrily slumped against a rock and sulked and cried until the earth began to jolt like a beached fish.
Taquan let out a sob.
She remembered how after the shake she ran into Annsa, her dear old great-grandmother who had been so concerned for her great grand-daughter and went out into the storm to search for her. How she was face first in a muddy puddle, cowering and moaning and pointing back toward the cavern unable to speak beyond sounds of pain. She remembered seeing the entrance covered in boulders. Some of the rocks were coated in sticky red blood. Amidst the collapsed entrance, a single slumped and mangled forearm stuck out.
Each day, Taquan thought of that mangled arm. Was it her mother's? Was she going out with Annsa to search for her as the rocks came tumbling down?
Each day, Taquan thought of that argument. How she had snapped at her mother over something so trivial. How she wished she would forever be free of her.
How fate had decided to grant her wish.
Taquan stopped her pacing and looked back at the three hide tents of their tiny camp. In the evening light, she saw Kuna playing with his silly bird as Kunqq gave Tunqquallk a pat on the back for a good day's work. Annsa and Sanquan brough the catch of fish from earlier today and began to roast them on the fire. This is all that was left in her world. Fate had delivered her here to be with this group.
She thought of what she had told Sanquan, how spiteful she had been. She knew how much Sanquan tried her best to help everyone with their tasks. How Sanquan listened to all their complaints throughout the day without voicing her own. How Sanquan never asked much for herself and was always willing to give. Taquan knew that tomorrow's trip could likely be their last chance at leaving this island. That they could finally finding a new village to call home. There was to be no doubt that this trip was to be filled with dangers, and worst of all no guarantee that they would all make it.
***
As the sun set and the men went to rest for journey tomorrow, Sanquan, Taquan, and Annsa were left at the hearth eating the final scraps of fish. Between the two women, a solemn tension built up. Annsa gave the two a glance and quickly retired, wishing them a good night. Sanquan looked away from Taquan, focused on picking fishbones out of the small flounder roast. Her face was still red. The air felt thicker than sand, and words struggled in Taquan's throat for what felt like hours until she was able to finally speak.
"I'm sorry Sanquan, I... I know you do so much for us, for me. You do so much for us and ask so little in return, it's not fair that I spoke so harshly to you." Taquan began to choke up. "I know you are a great mother to Kuna. He is so lucky for that." Taquan let out a light gasp between slight heaves. "I... want you to know I don't w-want you to leave me alone, p-plea-se..."
Sanquan put down her food and turned, her own eyes filled with pools on her gentle face. "Taquan, It's okay. I won't leave you." She reached out and pulled the girl towards her, Taquan untensed in their tight embrace. "I won't leave you, Taquan. I promise."
"Sanquan," she let out between sobs. "It's okay to call me Taqu if you want"