“That region was desolate, eerie. I can show you somewhere better.” Perched on cliffs above the blue-green bay, Awa scanned the horizon for the boat people’s sails or cook fires. On a clear day she could see a hundred hundred leagues. The boat people must have been very far out in the water.

“What do you look for?” Bal asked. She was a head taller than Awa now and two thirds as wide. Impatient, Bal rested her chin on Awa’s spongy locks and muttered nonsense. Awa refused distraction and took her good time puzzling out an answer. Fog rolled in from the border-void. Dirty waves slammed refuse high onto the cliff walls, higher than the water had ever been before.

“Could sea level be rising?” Awa said. “From storms or…”

“You’re truly baffled. Unusual.”

“Not just that—” Awa felt abandoned by treehouse lovers and the boat people.

Bal jumped down to a ledge in front of two rusty iron horses with cloud-silk tails and feather manes. “You should have asked the boat people to explain their ways.”

“I thought we could do that today.”

“Ha! You thought I’d talk to them.” Bal stroked a horse’s tail and leaned her face into purple feathers. Both creatures came rattling to life, shaking seaweed and sand in her face. Bal squealed delight. The horses’ hearts were golden wheels of light in iron-mesh cages. Red eyes blazed as they snorted hot steam. “Let’s ride.” Bal grinned. “Come on. You love horses.” Bal sprang on a polished back and rode off.

The second metal beast climbed up a path to Awa and nudged her with a furry nose. Awa shrugged off anxiety and jumped on its cold back. Her horse followed Bal’s to another ledge. The ride was herky-jerky, and the metal beasts made an awful clatter, as if each step ripped apart their innards. They meandered through rags and broken talking books. Fragments of ancestor story-songs filled the air.

Bal sang harmony, at home even in ancient music. Envy stole Awa’s balance and she almost fell from the horse’s back. She’d always been silent on Smokeland journeys, afraid of nothing in particular, just mindful of disturbing the mood. Singing joy with Bal was thrilling.

“If this is what boat people throw away, think what they must keep,” Bal said.

The iron horses suddenly collapsed into shuddering heaps underneath them. Awa grabbed Bal and leapt clear. The beasts belched smoke, slid over a precipice, and smashed into the rocks below. A shower of wheels, mesh, and metal shards exploded up the cliffs. Bal reached her hand into destruction before it fell back into the sea.

“What are you doing?” Awa shouted.

“Thanks”—Bal hugged Awa to her volcano heart—“for saving me.”

“Saving you?” Awa frowned at the sinking wreckage. Talking books gurgled and went silent. Dim red eyes faded to gray and sank. “Just now? That was nothing.”