Otter Island: The North Ebenezer

It was very recently that Pajot had arrived on the island. Yesterday, in fact. He had made the journey to the island via a fishing boat. The last leg of the trip had been on the back of a friendly dolphin. The moment the dolphin dropped him off at the sandbar, Stephen had been there to meet him. The kindly old otter had given him food and a place to sleep, and promised to help him learn more about his new home. Stephen had been showing him around the island for most of the day. At this moment, which neither of them knew or cared was three in the afternoon, Stephen was showing Pajot the marketplace.

"Other creatures would require money to have a marketplace like this." Stephen was saying. "But our society has no need. Our queen insures that every otter on the island contributes to society and in return, we are permitted to simply take whatever we want or need."

"Why don't you just take whatever you need anyway?" asked Pajot.

"Dear pup, taking without giving something in return is stealing."

Pajot had to think about that. He'd never heard the word stealing before. It didn't exist in his local language. But since arriving on the island, he'd begun to understand things he'd never really thought about before. The word stealing conjured a memory of when he was a child- only a few months old. His father had been teaching him how to fish. He'd caught a grand one, and was taking it home to show his mother. He only put it down for a second to call to her when his brother, Cha'o, picked it up and ran off. It had made him quite angry.

"Ah, here we are at one of my favorite booths." said Stephen, a smile on his gray muzzle. "Fenn's Bakery. Fenn makes the most wonderful cinnamon buns. They're like nothing you've ever had in the wild."

"Stephen" said the young otter. "What do you do to give back to society?"

"I've done many things in my lifetime." said the elder as he helped himself to a bun and took a bite. "But these days, I spend my time caring for the unicorns."

"What are those?"

"They are like horses." Stephen explained, taking another bite of cinnamon bun. "With horns. Very small, of course. They live in the forest back in the west."

That Cinnamon bun was smelling awfully good. Pajot was beginning to drool.

"I say." declared the gray one. "Did you want one of these?"

"I'd love one." Pajot moaned.

"well, go on, then."

Pajot was confused. "But I'm not doing anything for society." he said. "And I don't want to steal."

"You'll be getting a job in a few days." Stephen said. "For now, it's on us."

"What's on us?" asked Pajot, checking his fur.

"That means it's okay to take one."

At this, the young one took a bun and stuffed it hungrily into his mouth. It tasted heavenly. No fish, bird, egg or fruit could compare to the taste of this new treat. "Could I have another?" he asked before he'd finished swallowing.

"Take as many as you like." said Stephen. "Just remember not to be greedy. Take as much as is enough and no more. That's the rule in the markets."

One more bun ought to be enough, Pajot thought to himself. Or maybe two. He was fairly hungry, after all.

The next place Stephen stopped was the book shop. A pretty red otter with freckles on her nose smiled at him as he approached. "what can I get for you today, Stephen?" she asked.

"Something with large letters." the old otter replied. "My eyes aren't what they used to be."

"How about this one?" said the merchant, taking a book off of the shelf. "It's the story of a young fox who's been chosen to go on an epic quest to stop a hoarde of dragons from invading."

"Oh, that sounds like a very good story indeed!"

Pajot was bewildered. "How can a thing be a story?" he asked.

"Books are marvelous things." said the old one. "They are filled with words that stay. Take a look."

It was a strange experience for Pajot. The paper in the book was covered with strange markings like the clawmarks one leaves on a tree. But as he stared, he found that the marks turned into words within his mind. That word... it said "fox". And another word said "land".

"It's the magic of the island." Stephen explained. "You'll find that you can understand almost any language, now. Spoken, gestured or written."

But Pajot had already become distracted. The booth across the way was full of shiny things. "I like this." he said as he picked up a statue of an otter with a ball in his hands. He began to walk away with it.

"Hey!" shouted the otter in the booth. "where are you going with that?"

"Over to stephen." replied Pajot, who kept going.

"You can't just take that!" insisted the shop owner.

"Why not?" asked the newcomer. "Stephen said it was okay."

Stephen, who had just caught up, was quick to explain. "This shop is diferent." he said. "This is the awards shop."

Pajot did not understand. "Awards?" he echoed. "What's awards?"

"You can't take these." said Stephen, taking the statue and placing it back on the counter. "You have to earn these. Only certain otters are allowed to shop here because they give awards to those who earn them."

"Earn them? How?"

"Well, this particular one is a ropeball trophe. You can win this by winning a ropeball tournament."

"Cool. And what about that one?" asked the youngster, pointing to a cross on the wall.

"That's a medal. The king or queen may give you one of those if you perform a heroic act."

Pajot's eyes widened. How wonderful it would be to have one of those. Not only was it pretty and shiny, but everyone who saw it would know that he was brave and valliant. "I want to earn a medal." he said. "How do I do it?"

Stephen could not formulate an answer for a moment. "You must do something brave." he said. "But you can't PLAN to do something brave."

"But I am brave!" Pajot insisted. "And I want everyone to know it! I want to earn a medal!"

"How about one of these?" suggested the shopkeeper, holding up a plaque. "You can earn this by walking upright all the way through an island march."

That would never do. "I want a medal!" Pajot insisted. "I want everyone to see how great I am!"

Stephen was getting impatient. "You have to do something great to earn a medal. And the opportunity to do something great isn't something you just walk up and find on a tree. It comes with times of great trouble."

Pajot stood in silence for a moment. Trouble? He'd have to have trouble in order to be great? That was indeed a distressing thought. He was about to voice his objections when someone walked up. It was a squat, muscular hairy-nosed female. She carried a statue similar to the ropeball trophe.

"Nang?" she said to the shopkeeper. "Nang, my waterball trophe was bent in a little indoor sports accident. Do you think you can fix it?"

"Sure thing." said Nang, who took the trophe and began working on it right away.

As she waited for Nang, the female became aware that someone was staring at her. She turned to face him. "Hello." she said.

"Hello." the stranger replied. "I'm Pajot."

"Nice to meet you Pajot. I'm Sayna."

"Sayna is a famous athlete." said Stephen. "Her den is full of trophes. If you really want an award, you could become an athlete like her."

Pajot shook his head, sadly. "I'm no good at games." he said. He began to pout. Sayna shot Stephen an inquiring look.

"He wants an award." said Stephen.

"I know I can do something great." said the youngster.

"Can you swim far?" Sayna asked him.

"I... I don't know. I come from pond country. I've never had to swim far."

"Otter day is two days away." Sayna said. "It's one of the island's biggest holidays. The day before, there is a very special event. Those who go through it receive a very special reward. I'm going to take part in it tomorrow. Do you think you might be interested?"

"Oh, not that!" Stephen protested. "He's so young! And he's only just arrived!"

"Tell me about it!" Pajot insisted excitedly.

"The island is surrounded by eight miniature islands called ebenezers." the athlete exposited. "Each one is twenty-three miles from shore. To give you an estimate, the horrizon is about half that distance away. In the morning, many otters will set out to swim to the north ebenezer."

"That's a long way to swim." observed Pajot.

"You don't have to swim it all at once." said sayna. "You're allowed to stop and rest. And there are bouys and boats along the way. If you think you can't make it, you can grab onto one of them."

"That's good."

"But if you do, you forfeit and cannot continue."

"That's bad."

"Once you make it to the ebenezer, you must endure a night of cold, rainy, stormy weather. And make no mistake, it WILL be stormy. The island itself will see to that. It will be the most miserable night you have ever endured. No food. No water. No heat. Nothing but you and a handful of otters on a rock for twelve hours."

Pajot could not supress a gulp.

"And then you have to make the swim back in icy cold waters, hungry and thirsty and exhausted. But if you make it all the way back to the island, then during the height of the festivities, you will be honored with one of these." sayna picked up a white linen scarf. It seemed not the least bit extrordinary, yet she held it as if it were the most precious thing in the world. "I have won many prizes in my life, but I have never won a white scarf. This is the year I finally win one."

"You've tried before?"

"Oh yes. Five years in a row. Ever since I was old enough. I never made it all the way. But this year... this will be different!"

All that night, the only thing Pajot could think of was winning a white scarf. He tried talking to stephen about it, gut the grizzled old otter wasn't very supportive. "Go to sleep!" was all he would say. So Pajot tried to sleep. It was almost dawn before he finally did, so great was his excitement. Finally, when the sun rose, Stephen rousted the boy. "Rise and shine!" said the old one. Though he had been so excited the night before, he now found that he did not want to get out of bed.

"I'm too tired." whined the youth. "I'll go next year."

"Out of bed." Stephen coaxed. "We have to get you to the north shore. I have a unicorn outside waiting to take you."

"What about breakfast?"

"No breakfast. That's part of the rules. You can have as much water as you want before you make your swim, but that's it."

Groggy and bleary-eyed, Pajot made his way outside and climbed onto the unicorn's back. Stephen got on behind him and the two of them rode together up to the kushtaka village. As always, the place was cold. "I don't get it." said Pajot. "It was sunny and warm a moment ago. Now there's snow, everywhere!"

"Ice caves." said Stephen. The island keeps this part cold for the kushtaka, who have trouble living where it's warmer. You'll find the water a bit bracing as well."

A number of other otters were gathering at the nothernmost point of land. Some were already on their way. "That's not fair." said Pajot. "shouldn't we all be starting together?"

"This isn't a race." the elder replied. "You will begin when you are ready. You have the entire day to make the journey."

A young human helped the otters down from the unicorn's back. Stephen thanked him and took his young friend to the water's edge. "The ebenezer is due north." said Stephen. It is very small and easy to miss, so keep your eyes open. There will be bouys and boats along the way. DO NOT TOUCH THEM. Touching them means giving up. There will be other otters, of course, and Tiglath's dolphin pod will be there to guide you if you stray off course. You may speak to anyone. You may even ask one of the other swimmers to support you as you rest. but you must make the journey on your own. Are you ready?"

Pajot took a deep breath. "I'm ready." he answered.

"Then God be with you. Get going." He slapped the young one on the back so hard that it stung. Pajot jumped into the water, and was on his way.

"This is easy." thought Pajot to himself as he powered through the water. "I can do this! The water is a little saltier than I'm used to, but other than that, this is as easy as hunting crawdads in a rain pool." He turned on his back to see if anyone else was behind him. at least a dozen other otters had made their way out to sea since he'd begun his journey. Turning back around, he could count at least eight others ahead. It was going to be crowded at the ebenezer.

It was eight in the morning. Already, Pajot had watched one of the otters ahead of him give up and latch onto a bouy. A boat had come along to take him back to the island. "That won't happen to me." Pajot thought to himself. "I'm going to make it."

At nine-thirty in the morning, Pajot found himself getting very tired. The island was still in sight, so he knew he could not be halfway there. He remembered what Stephen had told him. This was not a race. It was okay to rest, as long as he did not give up. The otter rolled onto his back and floated. Another otter floated nearby. "Some swim, huh?" asked Pajot.

"Sure is." said the other, breathlessly.

"I know I'm going to make it." said Pajot. "I won't let the sea beat me."

"Me neither."

"My name is Pajot."

"Mine is Burhan." replied the other.

"Nice to meet you, Burhan. Are you looking forward to that white scarf?"

"I don't... Don't care much... about the scarf... itself." said Burhan. "I just... want to prove... I can do this."

"Why is that?"

"My parents... won't let me... do anything... because I'm... sickly."

"Sickly? How?"

"Trouble breathing. But I'm going... to prove I can... do this. If I do... they promised... I can do more... things I want."

Pajot kicked his feet and pulled up next to Burhan. "I'm sure you can do it. he said. "It really isn't that hard."

Burhan lifted his head to look at Pajot straight on. It was only then that he saw why Burhan had trouble breathing. The left side of his face was badly scarred. The scar crossed the top of his nose and spread across the far cheek. It spread over one eye, giving it a permanent squint. The left ear was missing altogether. But most startling was the profusity of scar tissue on the neck.

"How did it happen?" asked Pajot.

"Let's just say that when you have a name like mine, you need to be careful."

Pajot didn't understand, but sensed that he shouldn't press it further.

It was eleven o'clock. Pajot's muscles were getting extremely sore and his fingers and toes were uncomfortably cold. Surely the water wasn't supposed to be this cold in the tropics. He wondered if the island could have used its magic to bring a cold current down from the north for the occasion. He longed for something to hold onto. There was a bouy only a few yards away. He could swim over to it. Then he could rest those sore muscles. But no... that scarf was waiting for him. Pajot kept swimming.

Noon. The sun was directly overhead. Laboriously, Pajot pushed with his hands and flippers. Then swished his tail. Then pushed again with hands and flippers. Then another stroke of the tail. Then a head broke the surface of the water, startling Pajot so badly that he swallowed a gulp of seawater. Coughing and spitting, he felt a hairy hand patting his back. When he had recovered himself sufficiently to look, he could see that it was Sayna, the athlete he'd met the other day. "I see you decided to make the swim." she said.

"I sure did." said Pajot. "And I'm going to make it."

"Good for you!" said Sayna. And with that, she was off. Pajot found himself feeling suddenly lonely. he could see no other otters before or behind, anymore. There was no sign of the island, which meant he had to be at least halfway to the ebenezer. Yet he could not see the ebenezer, either. Pajot continued swimming.

One in the afternoon. There was no sign of the bouy which Pajot was certain he should have passed by now. It was a certainty that he was off-course, now. And what's worse, there was something in the water. Something big. Pajot's heart skipped a beat when a fin broke the water. A large, gray fin. Coming straight for him. With a yelp, the little otter took off as fast as his tired, sore muscles could carry him.

"wait wait!" cried a voice behind him. A very odd, constricted voice. "Little otter no swim swim away! No gonna hurcha! No no no!"

Slowly, Pajot turned his head. There, behind him, bobbed the head of a dolphin. So it wasn't a shark after all. But... was this dolphin talking to him?

"You lost lost." said the dolphin. "I help you! Help you!"

The dolphin was indeed talking to him. But how was that possible? Pajot wasn't exactly a genius, but one thing he did know was that dolphin lungs didn't connect to the mouth. Only the blowhole. Yet here this one was, talking through its mouth. "You... spoke to me?" the otter wondered.

"Yeah! I speaky speak! Name Tiglath! Who you? Who you?"

"I'm Pajot."

"Hi otter Pajot! You lost lost."

"I know."

"Otter Sayna think think you mighta get lost lost. She send me to find you. And I find you! I find you!"

"You sure did."

"Follow! Follow!"

"I don't suppose you could give me a ride?"

"No no no no no! No good. No good. uh-uh. uh-uh, uh-uh. Gotta swim swim. Swim alla way to the rocky rock."

"But I'm tired!"

Tiglath cast a concerned expression at Pajot. "You giving up?"

Pajot shook his head. "No. I'm still going."

"Okay okay. You follow me."

Three in the afternoon. Though the sky was so dark that Pajot was certain it was much later. The talking dolphin had gotten the otter back on course. But it was still slow going. The first few miles had been so easy. But now, he was cold and tired and his muscles ached. They ached all the way to the bone. The tips of his fingers and toes were painfully numb and his tail was starting to cramp. To one side was a boat. so tempting it was to swim over to the boat and end the misery. He'd come a long way. Surely that was something to be proud of. He could try the swim again next year. Yes. That would be all right. Hadn't Sayna said that she'd made the attempt five years in a row? If he made it next year, he'd still be doing better than her by four years. Pajot began swimming in the direction of the boat.

"I don't want to keep going!" came a voice from nearby. "I don't wanna!"

Pajot looked to see where the plaintive voice was coming from. There was an otter swimming beside the boat. A white-furred female. Larger than he was, but about the same age. Surely she would be giving up soon, as well.

"You have to keep going!" said someone in the boat. "You'll never forgive yourself if you give up now!"

"But I don't wanna keep going I wanna go home!" said the girl in a single plaintive sentence. Pajot was sure she'd be making her way toward the boat. Yet even as she complained, she took another stroke.

"Keep going!" called the voice in the boat.

"I can't!" cried the girl. Yet she took another stroke toward the north. She rolled onto her back for a brief rest. Pajot could see by the dimming light that the girl was missing a leg. For all her complaining, this otter was not giving up, even when it was so easy to do do, despite having only one leg and one flipper. Pajot felt a flush of shame. How could he, with his two good flippers, think of giving up? As if to drive the point home, when he passed the boat, he saw another otter hanging onto the prow. A look of pain twisted her features. Not one of physical pain, but of shame. She had just given up. Pajot pressed on.

Four in the afternoon. It was now as dark as night. Pajot could not see to find his way. The occasional flash of lightning from the stormclouds overhead revealed nothing. There was no bouy. The dolphins were nowhere to be seen. His only comfort was Migo, an artificial otter who was only able to stay afloat because he was stuffed with styrofoam beads. Far too tired to swim, the two of them held each other in the freezing cold water. Then Migo's ear pricked. "Do you hear that?" he asked.

"Hear what?"

"Shh." Migo listened intently. "It's singing! Somebody is singing!"

Pajot listened. He did hear voices. They were thin, and some were trembling, but it was definitely singing! The boy strained his eyes in the direction of the sound. In the darkness, his eyes saw nothing, until a flash of lightning showed them the silhouette of a rock jutting up above the surface of the waves. "The ebenezer!" he cried. "We're almost there! Come on!"

"You go ahead." said Migo. "I'll catch up."

With his flagging energy renewed by the sight of his goal, Pajot pushed himself as hard as he could. He watched the tiny pebble in the distance grow to a tiny stone, then a large stone, then a sizable rock, until finally, he could make out the otters seated upon it. The rock was almost flat, barely managing to stay above the waves. On the far side was a tall spike. A cave had been carved into that spike where one could take shelter from the elements. Normally, it would be stocked with food, fresh water, blankets and firewood, to help any poor shipwrecked traveler who happened upon the ebenezer to survive until help arrived. That was why it was there. It was a rock of salvation- the hope of life amid a sea of despair. But there would be none of those comforts tonight. No... tonight was about endurance. The only object on that rock would be a pot of earth taken from the island to carry its language-translating magic. And yet at that precise moment, it felt as if Pajot were climbing into the very lap of luxury. A strong pair of fingerless paws clapped upon Pajot's hand to lift him out of the sea. "Thank you." said the exhausted boy.

"It's the least I can do." replied a nasal voice. Squinting against the darkness, Pajot could make out the face of a sea otter. A tad on the small side, he had a grey body and a white head, with a white, downward-pointing arrow on his chest. "Welcome." said the sea otter. "I'm Kahuna."

"Pajot." replied the spent youth.

"Good to see you made it." said a familiar voice. It was Sayna, the athlete.

"Likewise!" beamed Pajot. "I was hoping I'd see you here."

"A little help?" came a sleepy voice from the water.

Sayna bent down to help a smooth-coated indian otter onto the rock. "There was a ramp right beside you, Blalok." she said.

"I couldn't see it." replied Blalok as he climbed up onto the flat surface. "Oh, my but it feels good to be on dry land."

"It won't be dry for long." said a voice from inside the cave. "It will rain soon."

"Oren?" called Blalok. "Is that you?"

"It's me."

Blalok rushed forward as Oren stepped out of the cave. The two friends embraced fondly. "I'm so glad you made it!" both said in unison.

Oren turned to Kahuna. "I didn't see you arrive." he said. "Sayna, has he been behaving himself?"

"Oddly, yes." Sayna responded.

"I'm right here." said Kahuna, coarsely. "And of course I'm behaving myself. I'm not going to hit on the ladies. This isn't the time for it."

A light was coming toward the island. It was a boat. The same boat which Pajot had passed earlier. And there, beside that boat, swam the one-legged female. Stroke by stroke, she approached the island, until finally, her hand touched the rock. Sayna and Oren dragged her onto the rock.

"You made it, Piyt!" shouted the one in the boat. "You made it!"

"I made it." whispered Piyt, lying on the rock, unmoving.

"We have to leave you, now!" said the voice from the vessel. "We'll be back in the morning to escort you back to the island!"

"Okay." Piyt breathed.

An hour passed. Blalok led the others in a series of Otter Day songs to pass the dark hours. It seemed a very odd time and place to be singing "the Waitoreke likes to play", but it did help to keep the group's spirits up. A break in the clouds brought a few moments of light by which Pajot could see the nearest bouy. Two otters clung to it, waiting for rescue. A third continued swimming. An otter with a scarred face. "It's Burhan!" shouted Pajot. "Burhan! This way!"

Burhan seemed spurred on by Pajot's cheers. Soon, the others were calling to him. Minutes later, Burhan was on the ebenezer. Pajot looked out across the waves. Where was Migo? Surely he should be here by now.

It was nearly dusk. The sky had lightened a little only because the sun had set too low for the storm to block it. A new otter was climbing onto the rock. One with silver-grey fur. Oren moved to help her up, but she waved him away. "I neeed to make it ALL the way." she said. "Thank you anyway." Oren leaned against the side of the spike. The newcomer stayed in the water for a moment before climbing ashore. On the other side of the rock, Burhan was helping someone else ashore. It was Migo! He'd made it after all! Pajot sat down and smiled with relief toward Blalok, who smiled back beneath his arm, trying to keep the rain off of his face.

The sun had set. The boats had come and taken all those who could not make it to the ebenezer. Only a single boat remained, floating far away, to carry those who could not make it through the night. It was a temptation which Pajot knew would gnaw at his awareness the entire night. A flag mounted at the top of the spike fluttered in the harsh wind. Nine otters sat in a circle, silently wishing the rain would stop, knowing that it would not. They had sung all of the Otter Day carols they knew. There seemed nothing to do now but wait. Breaking the silence, Oren took a deep breath and said "Kahuna, what did you mean when you said this isn't the time?"

Kahuna looked up from his doze. "For hitting on girls? There's more to me than that you know."

Oren wasn't satisfied. "But for as long as I've known you, you haven't done anything BUT hit on girls. You're a walking Ushra."

"First of all, I am male, so the word is 'Usra'. secondly, I'm a sea otter, and sea otters have very different ideas of sex than you high-strung land types."

"But you're always hitting on the land otter girls, too."

"So everyone condemns me because I want to share something wonderful with my female friends? I know, I know. You don't see it that way. But you know what? There is more to me than just my Usra. And I am here to prove that. Maybe after this, the rest of you will understand that I'm not just all about sex. That I do want to accomplish things with my life."

Oren was silent for a moment. "Wow." he said. "I had no idea."

"Well now you do." said Kahuna, angrily. Then softening, he added "so why are you here?"

"I wanted to accomplish something worthwhile." Oren answered. "I've never really done anything with my life. I mean, what am I? I'm a magician who doesn't do magic. I'm a warrior who's never fought."

"You've raised Amanda". chimed Blalok.

"Amanda has practically raised herself." said Oren. "If she were organic, she'd be fully grown by now."

There was a moment of silence again, which was broken by sayna saying "Blalok has an interesting story."

"oh, I... I..." Blalok stammered.

"Go on." urged Sayna. "Tell them about it."

"Very well. "I'm here because I had a dream. One of my friends was taken away. I had to swim a long way to go and find him. When I woke up, I thought about the dream, and I began to realize that even though I teach swimming, I have no idea if I COULD swim that far. I had to find out. I just couldn't get it out of my mind. I had to test myself. That's why I'm here tonight."

"I just hope it's not me that went missing." said oren. Everyone laughed.

"I'm here because of my leg." said Piyt.

"How's that?" asked Kahuna.

"My parents have always told me that I can do anything I set my mind to. It doesn't matter that I have only one leg. In fact, they push me harder than anyone else. And I know that I can do great things. But not everyone else realizes that they can. I want everyone who has one eye or one arm or no tail or a nose that won't close to know that they can accomplish just as much as anyone else."

"I have the opposite problem." said Burhan. "My parents don't think I can do anything."

"And you're here to prove them wrong?"

"Yes. No."

"Well, which is it?" asked Piyt.

Burhan took a deep, rasping breath. "Would you like to know how my face got so messed up?"

Piyt nodded, but realized that she could not be seen. "Please." she said.

"It was in burrowing school. There was a bully there- a river wolf by the name of Bitan. Bitan made fun of my name all that day. 'Gonna burn Burhan!' he would say. He just wouldn't stop. So after class let out, I bit him on the shoulder. It seemed fair."

Pajot smiled approvingly. He hated bullies.

"That evening, Bitan caught me by the riverbank. He had his friends with him. They caught me and pinned me to the ground. Then Bitan explained that he was going to teach me a lesson. Because I had bitten Bitan, he really would burn Burhan. So he took a torch and... and he did this to me."

Someone gasped.

"Since that day, I've carried the stigma of being a victim. The bullies know that they beat me. My parents see me as weak and helpless. But I... I am here to show everyone that I am strong. When I return home, it will be with a white scarf around my neck, and I will proudly look those beasts in the eye who scarred me and watch their faces as they realize that I am the BETTER otter. Then I will have truly beaten them."

"How about you, Migo?" asked Pajot. "What's your story?"

"Nothing as exciting as all that." answered Migo. "I'm here because... well, people just don't take animate toys seriously."

"My daughter is an animate toy." said Oren.

"Yes, I caught that." said Migo. "I also caught that she's considered a child because she doesn't age. People tend to see us as children, or worse- as entertainment. Why... when people talk about the champions of their villages- Gabriel, Grant, Flaire, Shade... and then I bring up Poffle... all I get is condescending smiles. As if the coastal patrol has a plush otter among its ranks as a joke, and I'm the only one who doesn't get it. I want to wear a white scarf to show others that we animate toys aren't just playthings. That we're people, just like them."

The silver-furred female nodded and breathed "yeah."

"What is your tale?" asked Migo.

"I wasn't going to tell anyone, but... well, since you've all told me your stories, I might as well. My name is Venus."

"Hi, Venus." said Pajot.

"I assume you've all heard of Tiglath the were-dolphin? Well, he's my brother."

"Cool." someone said.

"Not for me." said Venus. "My family... well... both my Mom and Dad are part Kushtaka. They don't have the kushtaka powers. None of us do. still, they're proud of the fact. when we were little, my brother and I used to pretend that we could transform into humans like our ancestors did. In our imaginations, we transformed into many things. Birds. Fish. Whales. Mice... And then one day, Tiglath really did change. We still don't understand how he got weredolphin genes, but he has them. Well, Mom and Dad were ecstatic. They had a real shape-shifter in the family. Didn't matter that as a dolphin, he talks like a drunken moron. Sorry. I know that's not nice. That's just always grated on me. Well, here I've been, stuck in this same old body. I can't shape shift. I can't fly. I'm not a toon. I can't shoot lasers from my eyes or lightning out of my tail..."

"I know what you mean." Oren interjected. "I can sympathize with that."

"How can you know how I feel?"

"I'm the only one of ten magicians on this island... er, THAT island, who doesn't use magic. I just study it. My neighbor Sam conjures objects out of thin air. I can tell him precisely how he did it. It's almost embarassing at times to be the only one with no powers."

"You do understand."

And then I think to myself that I COULD have powers if I wanted to. With the traffic I do in magical objects, I could easily give myself powers. But I really don't need to. I have everything I need. Two eyes with six eyelids, one nose, two ears, a bunch of whishers, a pair of hands, a pair of flippers, a strong tail and a soft coat of fur. What more could a guy ask for?

"Usra?" chimed Kahuna.

"Yes, I have that too." Oren replied darkly.

"You all know my story." Sayna volunteered. "I'm driven to be the best that I can be. That and I'd never forgive myself if I gave up after five years of trying."

"That leaves Pajot." said Piyt. "Why are you here, Pajot?"

The young otter suddenly felt hot despite the freezing wind and rain. "I... I... I just..." He could feel fifteen and a half eyes staring at him. Into his heart. He couldn't bear to tell them his real reason for being here. Yet the answer came tumbling through his lips unbidden. "I just want a white scarf." Everyone else was here for a good reason. Justice. Encouraging others. Representing their race. Proving oneself. Becoming strong. Striving to be the best. Pajot felt so ashamed. He was here for a scarf.

Oren laughed. Then Blalok. Then the others. Pajot wanted to burry his head. "THAT" said Blalok. "Is a very heartening display of honesty."

"I feel so stupid."

"Why?" asked Blalok. "Why do you want a scarf?"

"So that people will know I'm worth something."

"Were you worth something before?"

"I guess."

"But..."

"Well... I didn't understand it before, but I understand it now. You can't just demand esteem as if you're entitled to it. It's gotta be earned."

"I'd say you're living up to your name. Pajot."

"My name? what do you mean?"

"Pajot. It means 'he who is learning and growing.' Didn't you know that?"

"No."

"Well then that's one more thing you've learned."

Sayna added "And once you get back to that island, you'll have earned that scarf."

The group fell silent for a moment. Then Pajot began singing an Otter Day carol. "The waitoreke likes to play. He does so every single day. And there is wisdom in his way. So let us do like he does." Everyone joined in on the second chorus.

The swim back to the island did not seem nearly as bad as the swim to the ebenezer. Everyone was extremely tired, hungry, thirsty and cold. Yet these nine friends, some old to each other, some new, took comfort in each others' presence. Of course, it didn't hurt that back on the island, a hero's welcome awaited them, along with a feast. Pajot drooled just thinking about it. There would be walleye, catfish, haddock, roughy, tuna, salmon, anchovies, shrimp, crab, lobster, urchins, chicken, boiled eggs, fresh fruit, crispy nori, milk, juice, broth... and that was over and above whatever goodies which the Waitoreke may have delivered during his annual visit.

The nine otters were escorted through the lagoon by a parade of rafts, boats and swimmers. On the beach of the lagoon village, they were greeted by raucus cheers as they stepped onto the beach hand-in-hand. (Or in-paw, in Kahuna's case.) King Mijbil the fourth himself was on hand to pass out the white scarves. There was much feasting, playing and revelry. Even the amorous Kahuna was far too busy celebrating to think about girls. Or perhaps he was just too tired.

Having eaten his fill, Pajot sat down on the sand and stared out across the lagoon. He removed his party hat- a sand dollar on a string- and set it down beside him. He then removed his scarf and held it in his hands, staring at it.

"Congradulations, sport." Pajot was startled. He turned to see who had spoken. It was Stephen. and he was wearing a white scarf.

"Stephen?" asked Pajot. "You?"

"Oh yes." the old one replied. "Back when I was fifteen. People thought I was old then. Boy if they could see me now! I survived the North Ebenezer just to prove that I still had some fire left in me."

"So how come I never saw it? I mean... I slept in your den the night before last and you didn't have it displayed."

"I don't need this scarf, Pajot. This scarf tells other otters that I did something great. I don't need them to think about me one way or the other. I know that I did it. I know that I endured that hardship. And that's enough. But tonight... well, tonight, it's my way of telling you 'welcome to the club'."

"Thank you, Stephen." said Pajot. Then he took off his scarf and folded it neatly. "I suppose I don't need this either. I accomplished my task. I was faithful to the end. and because of that, I can respect myself."

"Now you've got it!" beamed Stephen. "And now, if you'll excuse me, I do believe widow Grace is calling me over to the punch bowl."

Pajot smiled at the old otter. Then he placed the folded scarf beneath his head, lay back on the sand, and fell asleep.