42. Practice
Practice
But it was not so simple.
Styx’s first attempt ended
with nothing in her hands.
Her second caused her to leave
half-moon marks on her own palms
from clenching them too hard.
On the third attempt,
Styx looked annoyed, upset,
and like she was about to give up.
I would not let her.
We were sitting on the rocks,
and Styx was concentrating,
trying to remember how
she had magicked the eel.
‘It is no use,’ she said finally,
opening her eyes after another try.
‘How were you feeling that day?’
I asked her. ‘The day I found you
sleeping inside the cave?’
This made her bare her fangs.
‘I would rather not speak about it.’
I rubbed my forehead. ‘I think you
need to bring back that pain.
I think your anger helped you that day.’
Styx closed her eyes again and tried
with all of her might to remember.
Her face was a mask of concentration
and as her hand touched the water,
I saw it. Something was forming
between her hand and the water.
At first, I thought it was another eel.
But instead, this creature was small.
A tiny red shell formed,
and then two large angry pincers.
Two beady little eyes
and many, many legs.
Styx held the thing up in wonder
as it moved its pincers this way and that.
I stared at it in fascination.
‘What were you thinking about
when you made that?’ I asked.
She looked up at me as she set
her creation onto the rock.
It moved sideways quickly
until it was hidden in a crevice.
‘I was thinking,’ she said,
looking at me with a wry smile,
‘how infuriating all of this is.’
I let out a surprised laugh
and Styx’s smile widened.
She reached down and picked up
a small stone in her fingers.
I touched her hand gently,
holding the flower against it.
And that was how
the first starfish was born.
A creature Styx and I made together.