After five days of near-starvation, I can’t devour the fish fast enough. I even try one of the second fish’s organs — I think one of his kidneys — which is less disgusting than I’d anticipated. I draw the line at the eyeball, saying, “Maybe tomorrow,” and Lassie gulps it down.

I pat Opik on the shoulder and say, “Thank you.”

He smiles.

“My name is Henry.” I point at myself. “Henry.”

“On-ray,” he says.

“Close enough.”

“Opik,” he says, pointing to himself.

I nod and repeat his name.

I point to Lassie and say, “Lassie.”

“Pussi!” he exclaims.

I laugh. “Close enough.”

Lassie doesn’t seem to mind. If Opik keeps bringing him food and rubbing his belly, he can call him whatever he wants.

Opik walks up to the brush and waves at me to follow.

I pick up Lassie. “Come on, Pussi, let’s go.”

I trudge behind him. He waits for me to catch up. I show him my watch. Point to the number four. “I need to be back before four.”

He nods.

Is it possible he understood? Is it possible he left yesterday, then came back twenty-three hours later, knowing I would just be waking?

No way.

It is merely a coincidence.

Opik continues on. The brush falls away to wild green grass. I find myself gazing in every direction. With a half-full belly, I am able to appreciate the beauty of the landscape around me. For the first time since the earthquake, I once again marvel at the power of the sun. It has moved over the faraway hills and basks the valley in its gold.

I feel a tug on my hand.

Opik.

I follow behind him, his small hand clasped in mine.

Ten minutes later, we approach a thicket of bushes. Opik releases my hand. His eyes move over each bush, examining it, scrutinizing it.

“What are you looking for?” I ask.

Was he looking for more berries? Potatoes? Did potatoes grow on bushes? Nuts? Some animal that lived in the bush? Was he going to shake out some giant Alaskan boar that would run right at me?

My body goes on high alert.

Opik pulls off a yellow flower. Smells it. He reaches his hand out to me.

I shake my head.

He reaches it out toward me a second time.

I take a sniff.

The fragrance is sweet.

He shakes his head and throws it away.

He moves ahead fifty feet and comes to another round of bushes. They have small purple flowers. He sniffs one. Nods. He reaches it out for me to smell. It is sharp and herbal.

He breaks off a stem and pulls off a giant section of long, narrow, green leaves.

It is 3:47 a.m. when we get back to our camp on the sandbar.

Opik stands at the water, pulling the green leaves off the stem until he has a pile of fifteen or twenty on the sand next to him.