The jungle ended not with a border, but with a fade. The dense green canopy thinned. The trees became shorter. Twisted. Shaped by the wind. The ground turned from soft loam to sand. Coarse. White. Mixed with shells.
Elara stepped onto the beach. The cane sank slightly. The sand was warm. The sun was high. Overhead, gulls cried. Sharp. Demanding. They knew she carried food. She didn't stop. She walked to the water's edge.
The ocean stretched out. Endless. Blue. Green. Grey. It moved with a rhythm that matched her breath. In. Out. In. Out. She stood there for a long time. The cane hummed. Not the deep hum of the Node. The surface hum. The water was alive. Aware.
Hello, she thought.
You are far from home, the water said. The voice was liquid. Shifting.
Home is where the roots are, Elara
