Mila sat up as if suddenly startled from the edge of sleep. She looked at me lying there awake and said,

"Show me! I understand what you have to do — but how are you going to be strong enough to make it right?"

I led her to the bathroom and started to fill the sink with water.

"It normally takes a few years to orient myself and rehabilitate my power over water, but it gets stronger each time I use this ability," I explained to her.

As the sink filled I turned off the tap and placed both hands in the water, cupping it over my palms. I opened them out flat and lifted slowly. The water formed up around my hands and I simply lifted the entire mass into the air. I moulded it into lovely swirling forms, just playing with the motion and the flow.

I suddenly noticed Mila's stunned gaze in the mirror and started to laugh. The water fell back into the sink and exploded all over the two of us. Mila screamed in hysterics and we both just stood there laughing at each other for quite a while. Every time she tried to speak another burst of laughter took over. I threw a dry towel at her and went out to get some cold drinks for us both. She drank and smiled and chuckled and drank some more, just shaking her head in either disbelief or amazement.

She then asked,

"How much can you do with this? And what else can you do?"

"Well, it gets stronger the more I work with it. It's sort of an effortless thing — the harder I try or the more serious I get, the less it seems to work and it actually makes me feel tired. But if I just enjoy the motion and play with it, it feels like I could conjure a tidal wave or something. It just feels so easy. I'm not really sure how far it can go. I think that's totally up to me. Kind of cool, hey?"

Mila walked over to me smiling and simply climbed onto me. I walked back to the bedroom with her wrapped around me like a little spider monkey and we snuggled down into a deep slumber.

The next morning I woke to the sound of a busy house. Mila was cooking breakfast and seemed to be cleaning and rearranging things all over the place. I strolled out and asked, "What's happening?"

She looked at me in that way she has — the one that makes me feel like a complete idiot — and said, "Come on! Get busy. We can't do what has to be done just loafing around here, can we?"

We did have work to do.

We spent the next week packing up the place and arranging for Mila's sister to watch over everything while our journey began. We spent some time with family saying our goodbyes. This place would surely be the home we returned to when all the work was done.

We travelled across the peninsula to the port of the water people. After a good night's sleep at a friendly bed and breakfast, we walked through the fish market and into the moorings. This was a busy port, and the strong oily smell carried with it an industry of many centuries past.

We turned out to the second main jetty and looked down the line of long and swift draw boats. Dozens of proud vessels swayed and motioned with the light ebb and flow of the swell seeping into the bay. The generations of the water people are expressed right here in the essence of these glorious lengths of pride. A draw boat pulls its energy and speed from the motion of the ocean swells and is somehow able to hold that energy for calmer, easier travels.

We had walked a third of the way along the wharf when out strolled a young master of the sea. He gave us a warm smile and said gently,

"I'm pleased you've finally arrived. My name's Gary. I've been waiting quite a while now. We sure do have a journey ahead of us."

Mila and I looked at each other in amazement. How could this man have any idea of the journey we were embarked upon?