A little over a month later.
The initial excitement soon wore off.
Although people still found the things they saw in the ocean fascinating,
they no longer reacted as they had at first.
Even a few beautiful fish suddenly leaping from the waves would no longer make them shout with excitement.
During the voyage,
they soon encountered many unexpected problems.
Food supplies dwindled quickly.
To prepare for emergencies,
people began trying to hunt the fish that occasionally leapt from the surface, using crossbows with ropes attached.
It was not very effective,
but it was better than using up their precious food supplies.
Seasickness also began to set in.
The older members of the tribe were hit especially hard.
Barlow, Blair, and Priest Moro
were the oldest people aboard, and their symptoms were the worst.
As a former guard captain, Barlow was fit enough to tough it out, though he looked rather unwell.
But Blair and Priest Moro were another matter.
Unable to bear the ship's rocking, they leaned over the black stone railing and vomited.
The two poor old men had barely had a few days to admire the ocean before their fellow tribespeople persuaded them to lie down and rest in the hold beneath the deck.
Otherwise, they might not have lived long enough to see an island.
Some people now stayed in the hold to look after the two old men.
One evening,
the artisans in the hold took several sheets of hemp paper from their clothes and carefully dusted them off.
They were a few dry, brittle sheets.
These were copies of the mysterious diagrams that Richie had found in a cave long ago, which recorded a hidden history.
They had been copied again and again over several generations.
Though the drawings had changed a little, the overall images remained the same.
The artisans often discussed what was recorded on the sheets.
The pictures would keep inspiring them as they searched the ocean for hope during their long voyage.
After all, they showed more than just the shape of a ship.
They also showed an island—
On several other sheets of hemp paper,
there was a shared image:
a long, straight line.
Along this line
stood many closed, square shapes.
At the very center
was a huge black sphere, completely unlike the others.
It looked like an oval-shaped stone.
Below the objects arranged along the line, on either side, were many symbols resembling waves.
After discussing it,
they decided the image on the hemp paper must show an island.
When their ancestors had created writing, they had used "waves" to represent the ocean.
And the square shapes looked a lot like houses where people lived.
"The things drawn on this hemp paper must be the place our ancestors came from,"
one artisan said, gazing at the sheet with longing.
"An island that can build ships must be a very large one. It must have plenty of food and wood, and the people there must have very advanced knowledge and skills."
"I wonder if we'll find the homeland of our ancestors this time."
But
someone clearly scoffed at the idea.
"Homeland?"
A thin young man leaning against the side of the ship sneered.
He was deeply displeased with the suggestion.
"The only place we can call home, the only place we can long for, is where the gods are."
"Wherever the gods are, that's our homeland."
"How can you be so sure the island our ancestors came from was a place full of hope?"
"Maybe there was something on that island even more terrifying than the monsters in the deep sea, so our ancestors fled to the island we live on now, seeking the gods' protection."
At those words,
the artisans were left speechless. When they looked down at the hemp paper again, doubt crept into their eyes.
As the young man had said,
they knew nothing about the world beyond their own, so they could not know why their ancestors had crossed the ocean to reach the island.
What was more,
they even began to wonder whether the scenes recorded on the hemp paper were real.
Apart from these sheets, they had never heard anyone from the previous generation speak of any of it.
While everyone was talking,
a sudden commotion broke out on the deck above.
At first, there was only one sound.
But soon, it came in a steady flurry, like raindrops.
It was clear that many people were moving quickly at once.
"What's going on?"
"Is someone seasick, or did someone fall into the sea?"
The artisans' conversation came to an abrupt halt.
Hearing the footsteps on deck gather at the railing, as if everyone were staring out at something in the ocean,
they knew something had happened. They hurriedly dropped the subject and rushed out of the hold.
When they reached the deck,
their eyes were filled with dark spots after being in the hold for so long.
Once their vision gradually cleared,
they saw the following scene:
Beneath the crimson glow of the setting sun,
a crowd gathered along the railing, heads tilted back and hands shielding their brows, staring blankly at something in the sky.
They, too, looked up.
Against the red sunset,
several dark shapes were now gliding across the sky.
As if startled by the huge ship,
more shadows rose one after another from the sea ahead, slowly flying toward a point in the distance.
Once they had left the glare behind,
everyone finally saw what the creatures really looked like—
They were not unfamiliar creatures.
They were the very giant One-Eyed Birds that had once swaggered along the shore and liked to roost in the Mangrove Forest.
Now, they were flying over the sea in flocks, heading toward the horizon.
It was as if they had been summoned by some presence.
"It's the One-Eyed Giant Birds!"
"That's right! Don't those birds usually roost in the woods near the island?"
"With so many One-Eyed Giant Birds, there must be an island nearby where they live and breed."
"If we can follow their trail, we'll surely find the island!"
Ned listened to the excited chatter around him, a smile spreading across his face.
A pale blue dragonfly slowly flew back from the sky and settled on his arm, its wings fluttering.
At last, the secret was about to be revealed.
The one guiding the ship toward the island was none other than
these "familiar guides."
Before you continue