By the second night, sleep escaped me entirely. It danced just out of reach. Restless, I slipped out of Alan’s suite and began wandering the ship’s quiet hallway. As I roamed, a few residents paused as they passed, kneeling to stroke my fur or scratch behind my ears. Their gentle touch brought a solace I hadn’t realized I craved. I realized that in seeking their affection, I found the comfort I needed—just as they found something soothing in me.

My ears perked up at the sound of a ball thudding rhythmically against a wall. Who could be playing ball at such a late hour? 

There were familiar voices–one belonging to a boy caught between childhood and young adulthood, the other to a bright, energetic girl. Curious, I traced the sounds to the playroom. This was where the ship’s children would swim through the ball pit, dash across the basketball court, or rally in a spirited game of pickleball. 

The playroom was in near-total darkness, but a shadow moved—a ball bouncing off the wall, rolling steadily in my direction. It was a red rubber ball. But who had thrown it? There was no one in sight, no hand to claim the throw. 

The room appeared empty, but I was not truly alone. Two humans were there, lingering in the shadows, even though I could not see them. I knew who they were.

The ball appeared to possess a mind of its own, rolling deliberately out the door and inviting me to follow. Down the hallway it led me, then up the groaning stairs to the next level, and along another dim corridor passing the chapel. A chill coursed through me, but curiosity got the best of me. I poked my head inside, and there they were—two small bodies, each wrapped in dark green cloth, lying before the altar. Tomorrow, the farewell ceremony would send them to the sea, their eternal resting place.

I continued to trail the ball which had stopped in front of the infirmary door, slightly ajar. With a gentle push of my paw, I widened the gap and slipped inside. The room was quiet; the nurse was nowhere to be seen. Then, I heard it—soft, broken cries coming from the patients’ room. 

Sam! There he was stirring in his bed. He sniffled, wiping at the tears glistening on his cheeks. The candle beside his bed, its flame wavering, had burned down to a tiny stub. He sat up slowly, his eyes squinting as they adjusted to the gloom. 

“Page? Is that you?” he mumbled, his voice hoarse.  

I leaped onto the foot of his bed.  

“Can you come closer?” he whispered, barely audible.  

I padded over, and as I reached him, he pulled me into his arms. His grip was tight, almost too tight, but I didn’t squirm. He buried his face into the crook of my neck, his breaths ragged, his chest rising and falling with every shuddering sob. His tears dampened my fur, but I stayed still, letting him hold on as though I were the only anchor keeping him from drifting into despair.  

“Oh, Page, the captain told me something terrible today,” he whispered into the silence, his voice cracking. His hands were shaking as he stroked my back. “I’m all alone now. They’re gone... Mom’s gone... Joe and Anne too.” 

He paused, his chest heaving with suppressed sobs, coughing softly as he struggled to continue. “And Dad… The captain says he is still out there somewhere, trying to make his way back home. But I know that’s not true.” His voice cracked, and his tears fell freely now. “He’s gone too. They’re all gone. My family’s gone.”  

He clung to me tighter, his fingers gripping my fur as though afraid I might vanish too. “Everything’s so different now. Everything’s so…wrong. But you’re still here, Page. You’re still here with me.”  

I felt his grief in every shiver, in the way his fingers clung to my fur like I was his last lifeline. I wanted to tell him it would be alright. I nestled closer to him, hoping that my presence, however small, might ease the ache in his chest.

*****

A steward woke me up the next morning, ushering me off the bed while she set about waking Sam. I remained nearby, hopping up onto a chair. She placed a breakfast tray in front of him—seaweed soup and grilled mackerel, the savory scent lingering in the air. As she exited the room, Sam noticed my longing gaze toward the mackerel and chuckled. “Come on,” he said, patting the spot beside him, inviting me to sit.

He handed me a generous portion of the fish, which I accepted with eager paws. Together, we ate in silence, savoring the meal. Once our bellies were full, the steward returned to take away the dishes, and after a short nap, we were awakened by a soft knock on the door. Alan entered with a wheelchair, rolling it carefully into the room. It was a makeshift contraption, put together from two metal slabs and bicycle wheels, salvaged from the scraps in Big Yard. It had once belonged to an elderly woman who had passed away long ago.  

Alan, ever thoughtful, suggested Sam could use a breath of fresh air. She eased him into the chair, and I curled up comfortably in his lap. Together, we moved down the hallway and up a ramp, Alan pushing us toward the inviting openness of the promenade deck.

The stillness of the sea stretched out before us, its deep blue surface smooth as glass. In the distance, the faint silhouettes of Floating City’s buildings rose against the horizon, their outlines shimmering in the sunlight.

Alan broke the silence, turning to Sam with a thoughtful look. At first, her voice faltered, as though unsure how to begin. Then she asked, “Would you like to hear a story?”

Sam shrugged. “Maybe. What kind of story?”

“An adventure story,” she replied. “It’s about how I came to live on NOAH 1.”

Sam’s brow furrowed in surprise. “I thought you’d always lived here.”

Alan shook her head, a faint smile crossing her lips. “No. I wasn’t born on NOAH 1—or even in Floating City.”

My ears pricked up. Alan had always been part of NOAH 1, a familiar presence among Captain Francis’ crew and one of my closest human companions. It had never occurred to me that she’d once belonged to a world beyond the floating settlements. Jimmy was the only person I’d ever known who had lived through both the world before and after the Great Wrath. His life had been an odyssey across ships of all kinds, like merchant vessels and explorers, and he even sailed under the flag of pirates.

“My earliest memory is of touching sand,” she began, her voice soft and distant. “Watching the waves roll up the shore, reaching for my toes like they were playing a game.”

“Wait—sand?” Sam’s head tilted in confusion. “You mean… you lived on land? I thought all the land was swallowed by the ocean long ago.”

“Not all of it. There are still a few islands out there,” she said. “The sand on my island was soft—softer than anything else—and it shined, almost like silver, in the sunlight. I remember being on that beach with my brother—”

“You had a brother?” Sam cut in, his eyebrows raised.

Her smile faltered, then faded. “Yes, he was much older than me–he was about your brother's age, 12 or 13, and I was several years younger. We lived together, along with our mom and dad, in a small red house.”

“What was his name?”

She fell silent for a moment, her eyes distant, slipping into a shadow of sadness. “I don’t remember his name anymore,” she admitted. “But I remember the life we had—working in a big garden that we shared with our neighbors, playing, laughing. Everyone shared what they grew, and life felt simple, full. It was… perfect.”

“Then why did you leave?” Sam asked gently.

“I had no choice.”

“What happened?” Sam leaned closer, his eyes widening with newfound interest. It was as if her words had begun to chip away at his grief, offering him a brief escape.

“Our village gathered for a feast one sunny afternoon when a ship appeared. It was no match for NOAH 1 in size—smaller by far—but it carried a hundred people aboard. So, we all made our way down to the shore to greet the newcomers. The captain stood out among them. He was impossible to miss with his long red coat. His braided black beard, thick as a rope, fell past his round belly. His crew called him Long Beard, but his real name was Magnus.”

“Pirates,” Sam spat with disdain. “Dad used to talk about them. The ones he had encountered were bad men.”

“We didn't know about pirates then,” said Alan. “We welcomed him and his crew into our village.”

“You shouldn't have done that…”

“Well, Magnus was crude and raucous, but he definitely had an undeniable charm, and the village fell for it. We shared our drinks and food. We sang and danced long into the night, beneath the stars. Then, the mood changed, and my world was forever changed.

“People were either drunk or asleep when Magnus gave the order for his crew to seize the island. His crew killed anyone who stood in their way. My father was a brave man. He stood his ground to protect my mother, my brother, and me. My mother packed a small bag with clothes and food and told my brother and me to flee to the docks. She stayed behind, vowing to follow us with my father.”  

Alan’s voice grew quieter, as if reliving the memory. “At the beach, my brother helped me into a boat, but Magnus appeared out of nowhere, snatching him away. My brother didn’t go quietly. He fought fiercely with all his strength, just like our father, even managing to grab Long Beard’s sword and slash his hand.”  

“And then you both got away?” Sam asked, leaning in eagerly.  

“No. Magnus’s men swarmed us. They took my brother while one of them tried to claim my boat. I fought back, striking him square in the face with the oar before pushing off. I drifted alone into the sea. That night, I swore to myself that one day I’d return. I’m going to kill Magnus and his men. I will take back my island. My home.”  

“NOAH 1 is your home now.”

She turned toward him, a wistful smile playing on her lips. “I lost my family, but…” Her voice faltered for a moment before drawing a deep breath to regain strength. “I gained so much more. Everyone on NOAH 1—they’re my family now.”

Sam’s face lighted up in anticipation, eyes sparkling with curiosity. “So,” he asked eagerly, “what happens next in your story?”

We strolled around the deck with Alan pushing the wheelchair while I remained nestled on Sam’s lap, his hands absently stroking my back and head. We listened to Alan’s stories of her solitary adventures on the open ocean. Some of them seemed too extraordinary to be true, so wild that they felt like myths.

She spoke of the time a shark, enormous as the ancient megalodon, circled her boat before overturning it with a single nudge of its monstrous snout. She would have been lost had it not been for a pod of leviathan whales that came to her rescue. Their immense strength tore the predator apart. One of the whales sheltered her in its cavernous mouth for days. 

“It was like a vast, living cave,” she said, her eyes alight with the memory. “I survived on krill, crabs, and whatever else it swallowed along the way.”

“Did you really live inside a whale?” Sam asked with a burst of laughter, his eyes wide with disbelief.

“Yes, I did! Every word of it is true,” Alan replied, tousling Sam’s hair with a grin.

“And then what happened?”

Alan chuckled, shaking her head. “I think we’ll have to save the rest of the stories for another time. Stories like that aren’t meant to be rushed.”

“Aww, but I want to hear—Page, where are you going?”

I leaped off his lap, my ears catching a faint, steady beeping from above—coming from the navigation deck. I dashed toward the stairwell. When I reached the navigation table, I froze. The black stones Alan had placed there lay undisturbed, except for one. It glowed with a vivid red light.