More days passed, and Akali still had no opportunity to prove herself as a tattoo artist. She was tired of scrubbing, sweeping the floor, and shaving hairy backs. She was miserable. She hated being a cleaner to the point that she wanted to pull her hair out, wondering why she was doing it.

Akali sighed, getting out of the room and breathing in the dry air of the hallway. "What am I going to do?" she asked herself.

If not for her dream to become the best tattoo artist, she would have already run back to the Southern Forest, to the arms of her loving family, telling her father that he was right--that she should not have come here because it was not meant to be.

"There you are," Makka said, coming from a corner that led to the stairwell. "Let's go. I'm hungry. Yes, very, very, very hungry." The small dwende nodded several times and rubbed her growling belly, pivoting to go.

"I'm not," Akali said, and Makka stopped in her tracks. "You should go without me."

"What's wrong? Are you not hungry, too?" As soon as Makka said it, Akali's stomach grumbled. "Oh, you must be. Surely, you must be." Makka looked to Akali, brows rising on the white skin of her round face.

"I just need to walk to get some fresh air. I might just be tired. Toilet duty last night was exhausting," Akali answered, making an excuse and not wanting to share what was truly bothering her. "Don't worry about me. I'll survive without a meal." She tried to smile, but it failed and might have only looked pitiful on her face.

Makka paused for a moment but then nodded. "Alright, alright, alright. I'll bring you a cup-shroom. You'll like those." She searched Akali's face for confirmation and perhaps a willingness to share what was wrong, but she didn't prod her.

"That would be great." Akali tried to smile again, and this time, she was able to produce a decent curve on her lips for the dwende's effort.

Then she turned on her heels and walked to the stairs, intending to go down to the ground level, but before she reached the steps, she stopped as if someone or something had called her. She had passed by an open door. It was the same room where she had given the tikbalang a tattoo. But instead of a tikbalang, a garuda laid on his front. His bird head bowed to the floor, and his large white feathered wings splayed on its sides. His top human body was naked such that Akali could see the dark muscles of its back.

The garuda was waiting for a tattoo artist.

Akali blinked and swallowed. Something was pulling her in. Her fingers twitched at the sight of bareback and at the tools that sat on the table beside him. Excitement surged through her arms, making her raise her hand, eyes focusing on the ink bottles.

She clenched her jaw and stopped as if fighting her own body. But then her mind cleared.

What if this was a sign? Her first tattoo in Pinta was celebrated. It had brought more clients to the business. What if this was her chance to prove herself, show what she could do, and finally claim the credit for her work?

She stepped over the barrier and closed the woven bamboo door behind her. She came to stand beside the garuda and glanced again at the table beside him. A stencil with the image of a carabao's head was prepared. It might be what the client wanted.

This was it!

Akali picked up the stencil and didn't try to stop herself as she placed it on the creature's back. The garuda murmured but stayed still, and she continued without hesitation. She grabbed a small piece of cloth, dipped it in black ink, and began to trace. She followed the curves of the pattern until the design formed into the carabao's long horns, round snout, and strong jaws.

When she finished, she looked at the image, making sure it was right. She hadn't tried to do tattoos on actual skin this was before. All she'd created so far were whatever came out from the sweeps and strokes of her hand. Now, she raised the tip of a thorn over the design and traced.

She had the urge to deviate from the lines already there as if it was a barrier she wanted to break, but she willed her hands to continue, tapping the bamboo stick over the thorn in a frantic rhythm.

Maong was right when he told her this was a quicker way to do tattoos.

But tracing was like rules. They suppress the freedom to be creative. So when it was time to fill in the colors and shades, she was relieved she could now do it without following anything. She began with the sharp ends of the horns, stroking the thorn to create a faded effect. Then she added more color. Though the carabao was only gray in real life, she gave it some blue and green hints, making it look like it was glowing over the garuda's skin.

And when she was done, she studied her design, wiping the art clean off any excess ink with a piece of cloth. The garuda murmured again. This time, she flinched and stepped away. He had been asleep and was now awakening.

All the confidence that Akali had earlier drained, and the hesitation and doubt came back as if the effect of the tattooing process had faded. What have I done? Again!

When the garuda started to move, Akali ran to the closet carved into the wall of the tree, getting inside, and hiding herself.

"Morga? Am I done?" the garuda sat up and looked around, blinking at the empty room. He then got up and stepped over to a mirror, standing at one corner of the room to check the tattoo on his back. He gasped.

Akali clasped her hands over her mouth and held her breath, hoping the garuda would not be furious with the art on his skin.

"Beautiful!" the garuda exclaimed, flapping his wings and lifting from the floor by a few feet. "Beautiful, Morga! Beautiful!"

Akali grinned under her hands and almost laughed. She had worried for nothing.

It was now time to reveal herself. She, not Morga, was the one who gave him the tattoo.

She stepped forward to open the closet door, but she froze as if something held her in place. She couldn't move. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out, and even when she screamed, she only heard a silent breath.

The door to the tattoo room opened. A dalaketnon--Morga--with flawless white skin and long jet black hair tucked behind her pointy ears came in. "I'm so sorry, sir," she said, lowering her head in apology. "I'm sorry to keep you waiting."

"It's beautiful!" The garuda didn't seem to hear the apology.

Morga straightened. Her brows crossed, confused.

"I knew it would be good, but I never thought it would be this beautiful." He turned his back to Morga to show the carabao head tattoo.

Morga gasped, raising her finger to her lips.

"You did well," the garuda said, facing the dalaketnon.

"But--" Morga was about to protest, but the garuda went on.

"I have to show this to my boys." He started for the door, tucking his wings to his sides so he would fit. "I'll be showing this to my friend. He's a yanale, you know. I'm sure he'll be interested in getting a tattoo from you."

"Oh," Morga straightened and stared. She paused for a moment before she spoke again. "I'll be honored."

What! No! Akali was more than screaming, more than shouting, but nothing was happening. She stood unmoving and silent inside the closet.

"Let me show you back to the lounge," Morga smiled and gestured for the garuda to step outside the door first. She started to tell him how to take care of the tattoo so the colors would last longer, and their voices faded as they left.

Akali could finally move when they were gone, and she burst out of the closet with tears running down her face. "No, no, no." She could speak now, too.

She rushed out of the room. Creatures gathered around the garuda and Morga in the hallway.

They were all mesmerized by the art, giving praises and admiration for the work.

No! Akali stopped in her tracks, and she couldn't move again. She couldn't say a word. Every time she attempted to say that the art was hers, her body would stop as if she was not allowed to claim it.

So she gave up, and when she did, she was able to control her body. But all she could do now was watch as Morga took all the fame for her art.

Akali could not watch it. She turned and ran down the stairs as more tears rolled over her cheeks.

She was almost out the front door of the parlor when someone stopped her, grabbing her by the shoulders. She looked up, still crying, and met Kayn's concerned eyes.

"What's wrong?" Kayn asked.

Akali shook her head. She couldn't say what was wrong.

The crowd at the second level cheered, and Kayn looked up.

"Akali?" It was Makka's voice.

Akali didn't turn to her friend, hiding her tears. She stepped out of Kayn's grasp.

"Akali! Wait!" Kayn called, trying to reach for her, but she twisted away.

She ran out of the parlor and did not look back.