The girl looks at him with tears in her frightened eyes. Tirad wants to ask her, “Who did this? And why they have brought a snake into the class?” But the girl bursts into tears. It’s no use; even if she speaks, she is too scared to answer properly. Tirad lets go of her arm and allows her to leave the cabin without answering his question. He just orders her to call Lealy and tell her to bring some water and clean up the mess. The girl wipes the tears off her face with the back of her hand, nods and rushes out, running in the corridors of the stranded ship. Tirad sits down on the wooden floor and stares at the twelve-inch snake. He can see from a step away, the whiteness of the snake’s bone, visible through the crack of the silver skin and its torn, pink meat. He has to get up and gather the students’ books and papers from the floor. But he wants to sit still until Lealy arrives with a bucket of water. He wants to wash his heels first and dry them and then step on the rusty cabin floor. He doesn’t feel sorry for the snake, nor is he mad at the children. He blames himself for not having been strong enough to stand up to the children and stop them from teasing him.

The girl calls his name with a soft and low voice. She is standing behind the cabin wall and has put her head through the doorframe. Her cheeks are blushing, probably from running in the ship corridors, and there are no signs of her previous tears.

“I looked everywhere, Master Tirad! I couldn’t find Lealy,” she says.

“Did you look in the kitchen? On the deck?” asks Tirad furiously. The girl nods to say she has. Tirad raises his voice and shouts at the girl telling her to go and fetch a bucket of water. But the girl looks at him as before, not moving, stepping in and out from the doorway. Tirad is exhausted and puzzled by her disobedience.

“Why don’t you move? I told you to get some water… I have to clean up this mess!” he shouts again.

The girl hesitates, moves right into the doorframe to ask her question more comfortably. Tirad glances at her from head to toe. His eyes move from her long and messy hair to the dirty and ragged toil that wraps her from under her arms up to her knees. He looks up again and stares at her half-opened, toothless mouth. The girl takes a breath and goes ahead asking Tirad if he has killed the snake? Tirad is confused; of course, the snake is dead. But he doesn’t answer the girl, waiting for her to ask her main question.

“What will happen now?” she asks with dubiety.

“What do you think? Ha?” he replies.

The girl seems frightened and less sure and mutters, “Anger of the sea… Disaster?”