His shoulder hurt and there was sand stuck to his face. Or maybe, it was his face that was stuck in the sand.

Spitting some of it out of his mouth, Norch climbed to his knees, taking care not to jostle his aching shoulder. With his good arm, he wiped the remainder of the sand off his face and looked around.

He was on a beach, and not a particularly nice one. Clumps of grass and driftwood littered the shore, but if his ship or crew had washed up, it wasn't here. 50 feet from the shoreline, sand and rock sloped upwards into a densely-packed wood. On either side, tall bluffs towered over the beach.

Standing up, Norch brushed more sand from his breeches and, hoping he hadn't picked up any sand fleas, he headed inland.

***

Less than an hour into his walk, he began to feel like he was being watched. It made his skin prickle, starting from the base of his spine, working its way up to the back of his neck, and lifting each hair on the way. Once, he was sure he heard the rustling of underbrush behind him, but when he turned, he saw nothing. He tried to shrug it off, but unease clung to him like wet snow on wool.

Taking a deep breath, he steadied his nerves. He was a ship captain, not a green hand putting to sea for the first time. He had weathered many storms he thought would be his last, and that's all this was. One more storm he had to endure.

By the time he reached the second hour of his trek, the hair on the back of his neck began to settle and the feeling of being watched abated. The forest floor dipped down toward a tiny creek and when he came up on the other side, the watcher was just gone. Its disappearance made him almost as uneasy as its presence had.

The feeling of being watched did return, but it was not same type of watching. His skin didn't creep in the same way and his instincts didn't scream at him to run.

When he heard movement in the underbrush, he stopped and waited, trying to move his eyes without moving his head. His under utilised imagination was having some difficulty trying to decide what moved towards him, and in truth, when he first saw it, he didn't know what to think.

It was the kind of thing that took looking at from an altogether different sort of angle. Straight on it seemed blurry, indistinct, but if he looked from the corner of his eye he could almost make it out. Four large eyes that didn't blink. Two wide mouths that frowned, then smiled, then frowned again. It did not seem hostile and, sniffing the air like a cat, it approached.

Norch stood absolutely still until it was directly to his left, then he turned his head slowly towards it. For a moment, as he turned, he thought he saw two faces, then its features blended as his eyes focused.

"Youarehurt?"

It spoke so quickly it took Norch a moment to understand.

"Yes. Some," he replied.

"Whoareyouandwhydidyoucome?"

"I-, I didn't- Did you ask my name?"

The creature's head came up as though startled.

"Wecantakeyousomewheresafethisplaceisnotsafecome"

Norch shook his head in irritation.

"I don't understand, you talk too fast. What-Who are you?"

The creature seemed to look at him. Did it have two faces?

"Youlistentooslow," it said, "come."

***

The creature, the "Jemily", seemed to shift as it flitted ahead of him. Its flickering made it difficult to follow, like staring into a bucket of minnows. Despite its constant motion, Norch was unable to discern any actual walking. Instead it seemed to be in one spot, and then the next, without the actual bother of moving there. The whole thing made him queasy . He tried to look elsewhere, but The Jemily moved at random and with little regard for where he walked.

Watching it or not, though, could not stop him from hearing it. The thing liked to talk. Endlessly. Each sentence ran into the next, without pause, and Norch understood pretty well none of it. If The Jemily noticed, it seemed unconcerned. Sometimes it gestured about itself, or towards him, or towards something nearby. Once, it stopped altogether, almost causing Norch to crash into it.

Bending down, the creature put out what seemed like a hand( or two), and gently cupped an insect. After examining it a moment, it set the critter back down and a carried on. Despite its initial hurry to be away, it seemed less inclined to rush now. As uncomfortable as it made him to watch, he didn't want to trip over it again, so he watched it from one corner of his eye.

It examined several insects ,examined trees and leaves and on occasion, it collected the leaves in a pile in its hand(s). Always, its head moved side to side. Then, with a start, he realized it did have two faces. Not side by side, or one opposite the other, but overlapping. Like each face existed inside the other. Norch was so startled he stopped moving and stared at it outright again. He blinked to clear his vision, and when he opened his eyes again, it was looking at him. Or, at least, he thought it was. Looking at it made his head hurt.

"Areyoualright?" it asked.

Its tone seemed concerned and it moved closer to him, "Youlookunwell"

"Fine," he mumbled.

The blurring stopped, and he could see both faces clearly. Then he fainted.

***

On the whole, Norch found his second awakening a lot less gritty than his first. His shoulder tingled. A chime sounded nearby. The smell of mint hung in the air, tickling his nose. Opening his eyes, he thought for a moment he was having an absurd dream. A very colourful, multi-textured dream. He squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them again. The smell of mint persisted and the ill-made canopy still fluttered above his head. A few loose threads twirled in the breeze. He wasn't sure if the mad patchwork could stand much more ruffling. Sitting up, his eyes moved to his naked shoulder. A poultice of crushed leaves was held firmly in place with a red and blue ribbon; he had found the source of the minty scent. His fingers were less than halfway to his shoulder when the Jemily appeared in the entrance way of the tent.

"Don'tdothat," it admonished.

Norch spared only a brief glance, his fingers not altering their course. The Jemily intercepted him, trapping his hand in theirs. Grunting in surprise, Norch yanked his hand away from them. Its hands felt cool to the touch and unnaturally smooth, like touching the surface of a mirror. The Jemily took no notice of his reaction, but began untying the ribbon with great care. Using two wooden spatulas, it lifted up the leaves and peeked underneath.

"Alldone!" it announced. Lifting the leaves off, it tossed the whole mess, spatulas and all into a nearby bucket.

Norch inspected his shoulder. Had the thing poisoned him?

Seeing his uncertainty, it explained. Or tried to. "Xentrot."

He blinked and looked towards it. Was he mishearing it again?

"Theleaf," it stated, pointing towards the basket, "Xentrot. Nottoxicbutsticky. Stickstofingers."

It mimed rubbing its eyes, "Stings. Iwouldknow. Alsonotgoodtoeat. Stickstotongue. Makeswordscomeoutwrong. Goodforbruisesthough. Andburns. Iwouldknow."

Norched nodded. Then swallowing, he said, "Thank you."

"You'rewelcome," it beamed.

Its speech was still too quick by half, but he was finding it easier to understand. He almost wished he didn't, the way it nattered on, but he tried to remain polite. The thing had, after all, helped his shoulder. Pulling something out of a basket, the Jemily handed it to Norch. After a moment, he realized it was his shirt. The creature had sewn the small tears with a vivid yellow thread.

"Ifixedit," it declared.

"You...certainly did," he admitted.

Under its watchful eye, he pulled the shirt over his head and did his best to refrain from fingering the threads. Some of these dangled too.

When the Jemily returned to what it was doing, Norch gave it a moment, then cleared his throat.

"Can you tell me where I am?" he asked.

It looked up at him and put down the sackcloth pouch it had folded into a triangle.

"Yesofcourse. Youarehere."

It reached for another pouch. After a moment, Norch assumed it wasn't going to elaborate.

"Yes. Here. But where is here?"

The thing looked at him, puzzled, and pulled out another pouch. Norch wondered what it did with so many folded pouches.

"Hereishere. Hereisalwayshere." It's confusion grew deeper, "Unlessitsthere. Butthenwewouldn'tbeinit. Anditwouldn'tbehereitwouldbethere."

Norch passed his palm over his face and searched for a better way to explain, "What's it called then? This...here?"

Seeing it still didn't follow him, he tried to elaborate, "The trees. This forest. The beach. All of it. Does it have a name?"

"Youmeantheisland?" it said with sudden comprehension. "No. Noname. Nottomeanyways. Maybetoothers."

The island. He was on an island. He sighed and settled back. It wasn't much, but at least it was something.