The message borne by the bird had not needed to be any more elaborate; throughout the four decades she had lived here alone, Dajeil had only ever had to receive one visitor, the avatar of the vessel she thought of as her host and protector, and who was now quickly and accurately pushing aside the barb-tree branches as it made its way down the path from the land-gate. The only thing that Dajeil now found surprising was that her visitor was here at this moment; the avatar had attended her regularly - entirely as though dropping casually by while on a walk along the shore - for a short visit every eight days, and habitually arrived for a longer, more formal call - at which they ate breakfast, lunch or supper, accordingly - every thirty-two days. Going by that schedule, Dajeil ought not to be expecting a visit from the ship’s representative for another five days.

Dajeil carefully tucked a stray strand of her long, night-black hair back beneath her plain hair band and nodded to the tall figure making its way between the twisted trunks. ‘Good morning,’ she called.

The ship’s avatar called itself Amorphia, which apparently meant something reasonably profound in a language Dajeil did not know and had never considered worth studying. Amorphia was a gaunt, pale, androgynous creature, almost skeletally thin and a full head taller than Dajeil, who was herself both slender and tall. For the last dozen or so years, the avatar had taken to dressing all in black, and it was in black leggings, black tunic and a short black jerkin that it appeared now, its cropped blonde hair covered by a similarly dark skull cap. It took the cap off and bowed to Dajeil, smiling as though uncertain.

‘Dajeil, good morning. Are you well?’

‘I’m well, thank you,’ Dajeil said, who had long since given up protesting at or indeed being bothered by such probably redundant niceties. She was still convinced that the ship monitored her closely enough to know exactly how well she was - and she was anyway always in perfect health - but was nevertheless prepared to go along with the pretence that it did not watch over her so scrupulously, and so had to ask. Still, she did not respond in kind by asking after whatever might pass as the health of either a humanly formed but ship-controlled entity which functioned - as far as she knew - solely as the vessel’s contact with her, or indeed the ship itself. ‘Shall we go inside?’ she asked.

‘Yes. Thank you.’