On the island of Sandria and the surrounding Reaches, two races predominate. There are the Hitumisuna (the children of quick men) and the Gatumisuna (the children of strong men). The first are small, lithe and agile. The second are the height of men from other nations, and equally clumsy. The Sandrines are the finest sailors in the world. Gatu are strong helmsmen and fine oarsmen, and Hitu are amazing riggers and craftsmen. The Hitu and Gatu are as inseparable as family despite their differences in stature—but it wasn’t always so.
When Hatatu Hitumi drifted into the islands, she came from the west, where the sun sets. She rode in a treetrunk canoe polished and shaped like the body of a fish, paddling along for days. Nobody knows where she came from—only that she was thrown out for causing trouble. She was looking for a new home to call her own.
She passed by island after island looking for one that felt right. Then, one night, she saw a strange shape wading along in the water ahead. It was large, ragged, and also quite smelly.
“Get out of the way,” cried Hatatu, “I am trying to find an island where I can rest my feet!” The shaggy thing raised its head. It opened eyes the size of fists and smiled a yellow smile. “What a great coincidence! I am also looking for an island where I can dry my salty hide,” it said. “I shall come with you.” The hairy, grimy creature bobbed towards Hatatu. She could see that the creature had arms and legs and a head. It was a man, but a man who was much, much too big! Though Hatatu was paddling through shallows of reefs and sandbars, the water was still over her head, and this man was only in it up to his broad, hairy chest!
“No, you won’t come with me. You’re too big. Surely you eat as much as two of my brothers would eat, and you smell like a sea otter during mating season!” Hatatu tried to wave the creature away, but it kept coming closer. She paddled backwards but the enormous man followed on, gaining slowly. His rank breath offended Hatatu.
“I won’t have you following me,” she cried as the huge man grabbed the end of the canoe. “You’d scare away anything I tried to hunt, and drive away the all the handsome men I’m going to meet!”
“Let me come. I’ll prove that I can be helpful. Please?” the giant begged.
“No!” yelled Hatatu. “You are too large to be of any use!” At that moment, the huge man threw himself onto the back of Hatatu’s canoe, and it capsized. Hatatu sailed into the air like a child’s ball, and into the water went her fire-gourd with its smoking tinder, her water and her food.
She spluttered her way back to the beautiful boat, and the man held it over his head and dumped the water out. Then he placed it gently back on the sea. Hatatu climbed back into it. She frowned severely at the obnoxious man. The man merely smiled good-naturedly. “Perhaps you’re right. I am too big for your little canoe, but I am not too big to be of use. My name is Ikwale Ogatu.”
Hatatu glumly considered her chances of running. “Well, come if you must, but you’re not riding in my boat,” she grumbled. “It was made for normal people and it won’t hold an ogre like you.” Perhaps I can find a cave too small for him to follow me through, Hatatu thought. The two companions continued on into the east.
They travelled many miles under the stars, on quiet water. Hatatu, silent, held her head high, sniffing for the scent of good, dry land. But from the moment he arrived, Ikwale was never silent. He told Hatatu about his home in the south, about the animals of the sea that he had seen, about great ships he had been aboard, about foreign gods and distant legends. His cheer and his voice were as ceaseless as the lapping of the waves. Hatatu’s mind grew sick of alien names and provinces—the night wore away under the motion of two tides.
The middle of the next day, Hatatu scented green land with plenty of fresh water. “At last,” she cried. “Water to drink and food to eat—and with luck, someone to listen to besides a great oaf!”
Ikwale laughed.
Hatatu was not joking.
…
Read more in The Stonecatchers