Aira sat alone on a dead, fallen tree on the shore of a small island, facing south.
For a long time, the nine-year-old girl had sat like that and hoped that Vir would find her there.
But no. Until the western horizon turned golden orange, a sign that night would soon fall, not a single boat or canoe passed by the small island.
But at least, the little girl wouldn't go hungry because she found two or three flavirum trees on the small island. The trees produced yellow fruit like pears but the size of a baby's head.
It was a bland taste, but it was much better than starving to death. However, Aira didn't know exactly how long she would be on the uninhabited island until someone came and took her off the island.
The sea in that area had quite a few small islands. There were islands that only consisted of piles of sand, some were fertile like where Aira was now, and some were piles of large rocks.
