Muriel’s Story
by Brianne Kreppein

Since the moment Muriel became a mother, when she felt that first little flutter of communication from inside, she had known that she had the capacity to do great and terrible things on behalf of her children.

Muriel can’t help but look back at the imposing gray stone castle, rising well above the trees around it. She has to cover her eyes against the sun’s glare as it rises. It is just beginning to shoot sharp rays through the dirt filled air. Her former husband is nowhere to be seen but the children’s maid is peeking out of a window that is viewable just above the outer wall.

“Do you see Nola?” Muriel asks Helena. Helena mimics Muriel. She shields her big brown eyes and squints toward the castle.

“Goodbye, Nola!” Helena yells when she finally spots the large woman waving her white handkerchief. Having done her duty, she spins back towards the waiting carriage, “Look at the horsies, Mama!”

The carriage is one of those used to regularly bring supplies from the coast to castle, not the show carriage emblazoned with the royal emblem. The brown horses hitched to it are the sort accustomed to hard work. Tangled manes buzz with flies. Around it people from both inside the castle and out scurry about their chores. From the castle’s strategic high-ground Muriel can see the entire valley of houses and shops. She could listen to the murmur of the village all day. With her eyes closed she can hear the murmur of voices in the market, the sharp metallic clangs from the smiths, the occasional whiny of a horse passing on the road. She finds herself smiling.

When she opens her eyes she almost runs into a porter bringing a stack of messages.

“Safe journey, My…Miss,” the porter says. He nods his head to show the deference his words are no longer allowed to.

“Thank you, Edgar,” she says, returning the nod.

“Is it not awfully warm to be wrapping the baby in such a warm cloth, my lady?” asks one of the servants. She is helping carry their belongings into the carriage. Swaddled in a thick tan linen all that is visible of Aden is his tiny sleeping face.

“Would you in such a conniving way try to take even a simple linen from me? Were my diamonds not enough? Did keeping even my simple silver hairbrush not satisfy your lord?” Muriel says. Muriel can feel the heat rising to her cheeks as she announces this.

“I didn’t mean to offend, ma’am.”

“I wish I could believe that, but circumstances as they are, you’ll have to forgive me my distrust.” Muriel hitches the baby further up on her shoulder and fetches Helena from where she has gotten distracted by some wildflowers growing near the wall.

“My lady, please, we are all set to leave,” a guard with a thick, black beard says, Canon she thinks his name is. He has not yet dropped her title and she gives him a quick smile to acknowledge the kindness.

“Come love, it’s time to start our adventure.”

Muriel requires Canon’s assistance to climb aboard. It is hard getting up the steps with the baby in her arm and Helena bobbing around her legs.  Helena climbs up on her own. It takes long enough that the man who had stepped up to close the door begins to look impatient. Muriel does not make any move to hurry Helena up.

“You are climbing so well! Look at how strong your arms have become to pull yourself up like that,” Muriel says.

“I can climb the tree in the garden too!” Helena responds. As soon as Helena is aboard the door is shuts firmly behind her. Unfazed, she climbs on top of the bench seat and stands to look out at the familiar view. Her green dress swings around her ankles.

“Mama, look, birdy! It has a red belly!” she says. She bounces up and down on the well-cushioned seat. Muriel lets Helena pull her closer to the window, her grip strong. Helena’s smile shows her tiny white square teeth, particularly the bottom, middle two, that angle in just a tiny bit. Muriel brushes a stray bit of hair from Helena’s face, already pieces are escaping her tight braid.

“You know I love you more than anything in the world?” Muriel asks.

“I love you too, Mama,” she replies, flopping backwards against her mother’s arm, just missing squishing the baby. Little Aden stirs and fusses in his sleep. Maneuvering, Helena peeks at the baby. “I love baby too.” She gently pokes the baby in the face and giggles.

“Good, remember, someday you two will be all each other have. So you better get along!” Muriel says, trying not to choke on the words. She tickles Helena on the neck and Helena ducks her head and darts away across the long bench seat.

“I know, Mama.” Helena inches closer again to make sure Muriel knows she wants to be tickled again. Muriel obliges, laughing dramatically when Helena tickles her back. The baby wakes and begins to cry for real.

“Good morning little one,” Muriel coos, settling him in to feed, his tiny body relaxing into her again. His arms are already accumulating little rolls in preparation for a growth spurt.

“Mama,” Helena pulls on her arm to get her attention back.

“I need to feed your brother, but what if I tell you a story? Would you sit quietly for me?”

“Story!”

“You will need to sit down like a big girl.” Before Muriel is done speaking Helena has already dropped into a crouch. She kicks her legs out in front of her, feet just hanging over the edge of the bench. She is small even for her age.

“Well, let us see. How about I tell you the story of the Vision of Sabine,” Muriel says and Helena does not object.

“As you know, the history of the world is full of stories about Seers like your ancestors who won great wars and prevented armies from dying unnecessarily. Your father, the Lord, married me hoping you too would have visions that could help the kingdom.”

“I can help!” Helena says emphatically.

“No sweetie. But that is a good thing; visions can be very scary, and scary things happen because of them. Remember when your Father took you to see the old church in town? The lightning bolt that burned down the bell tower was caused by a Seer named Imilia’s vision. Other Seers have caused huge earthquakes or even giant waves that destroy whole towns.” Helena looks thoughtful.

“But Papa is scared of me being like the bad Seers? That is why we have to go?” Helena asks, eyebrows drawn together.

“Your father is a coward but it has nothing to do with you. You have distracted me though; I wanted to tell you about Mama’s favorite story, the story of the beautiful Queen Sabine. Sabine was a gentle Seer who had guided her kingdom, once divided, into peace as their Queen. For all her power, Queen Sabine spent years hoping for a child. She was convinced she would never have one. She controlled her visions, choosing when to have them and how to focus them. But she could not control the side effects. She never intentionally looked into the future to see if she would ever get her wish because she did not want to put anyone around her into danger. One night, the night before her son was conceived, a lightning bolt had struck the towers of the castle while Queen Sabine slept and for the first time in years she had a vision not of her choosing. The Queen told no one of what she had seen. Throughout her pregnancy the Queen was solemn, and whispers grew within the palace.”

“What is solemn?” Helena interrupts.

“She was very serious, not happy like she had been before.”

“Mama is solemn!” Helena says, proud of making the connection. She has moved to her knees, hands resting on Muriel’s shoulder. She sets her chin on top of them.

“Mama has been, but soon I will be less serious,” Muriel’s arms tighten around Aden. He is still eating but his eyes have glazed over, eyelids drooping. “Now let me finish my story my little fey child.”

The carriage hits a large bump in the road and Aden chomps down. Cringing, Muriel switches him to the other side. Helena slides to the floor to pick up the doll she dropped in her excitement getting into the carriage. The doll is much loved and its features are faded. Its white body had long ago turned a beigey-brown. With her own baby now safely tucked under her arm, Helena wiggles her way back up onto the seat. She begins shushing and rocking the doll.

“Baby needs more story, Mama,” she says.

“I would hate to disappoint your baby or mine. Where were we? Oh yes, I remember. Queen Sabine spent long hours locked away in the courtyard while she was with child. Each day it was left in ruins for the servants to clean. Fountains overflowed leaving knee high water. The petals from the flowers were scattered everywhere, none left on the stems. One day there was even a great crater in the center of the floor with burn marks on all the bricks around it. All the while Queen Sabine grew weaker and weaker. The King begged her to stop whatever she was doing, locked up and alone, but she refused. When she finally went into labor, only the King and three nurses were present to the Queens confession. She had known that she would die giving birth to her child, since the night before he had been conceived. But she had chosen to have him anyway.  Each day she had gone to the courtyard to look into her son’s future, to watch him grow into a man, knowing she would not be there. That is why every year on the day of her death many women around the world, including me, skip our meals and spend time thinking about and honoring the sacrifices that our families require of us.”

“That story is sad,” Helena says plainly. She sticks her bottom lip out. Muriel also usually finds the story sad, but today it has tears streaming down her face.

“It is, but it is important. Sometimes Mamas have to make hard choices to protect their children. Even if they cannot be with their children, Mamas always love them and do what is best for them.”

“I like the story of Baron the Brave better.”

“Well, that is a good one too. Baron was very brave, just like my little girl is being today.” Muriel moves Aden to her shoulder, adjusting her dress. He has fallen back asleep. With her free arm, she scooches Helena and her doll, now resting against her tiny shoulder, closer. “I love you.”

“I am hungry,” Helena says. Muriel smiles. She pulls one of the small trunks from under the seats. Opening it she takes out an extra blanket, leaving the clothes beneath. She then tucks the baby into the space like a cradle. It is just big enough to keep him secure.

“Let us see what cook has packed for you.” Muriel picks up the small sack that sits on the bench across from her. There were two loaves of bread, a small wheel of cheese, and a smaller sack full of the dried fruit that Helena loves so much. There is also a small bottle of milk. Muriel hopes the cook will not get into trouble for the generosity. The dried fruit is a rare treat. She wipes her cheeks quickly before turning back to Helena.

“Cheese!”

“You will be even more excited to see what is in here, look.” Muriel passes the little bag over. She watches Helena’s face light up with a half-smile. Helena is too distracted to find anything odd about her mother’s staring.

“Apples! Ooo, look,” Helena holds up a dried apricot. Muriel lifts her off the seat and sets her in her lap, cuddling close. Laying her head on Muriel’s shoulder she continues to dig through the bag to eat her favorites first. The baby coos in his sleep from the trunk, soothed by the rocking of the carriage. For a while they are all quiet. Muriel watches the small towns give way to large stretches of farmland.

Just before they cross from farm to forest, the guards stop the carriage at a small tavern to let the horses drink and to buy themselves a meal. They allow Muriel and Helena out of the carriage one at a time to relieve themselves. As soon Muriel and Helena are back in the carriage the guards take turns eating and drinking within. Muriel treasures the waiting, quiet time with her children.

“Mama, look at that carriage,” Helena moves aside to let Muriel look through the slit in the curtains. The guards insisted on drawing the curtains so they would not be recognized. Muriel makes admiring sounds. She cannot actually see from where she is feeding Aden again. Placing her finger against his palm she watches as his grip tightens around it reflexively. His eyes, for the moment blue but still likely to change, are squeezed shut in contentment.

“How about you eat some of the bread that cook packed?” Muriel wheedles. “All adventurers need lots of energy.”

“No, I want cheese,” Helena says.

“Very well then, I’ll cut you some as soon as your brother is done eating.”

“He is always eating,” Helena says, dragging out the word always.  

“You were once the same way.” The sounds of the men grow louder as they climb back aboard their perches at the front of the carriage. One of them raps on the door several times.

“Be prepared to move,” someone shouts. The carriage lurches forward and bounces a few times before it settles into steady motion. Helena pulls open the curtain almost immediately. She rests her chin against the window sill.

“You will bite your tongue when we hit a rock if you keep that up,” Muriel says. She moves the baby to her shoulder and pats him firmly on the back. Helena turns to face her.

“So many trees,” she says in awe.  “I want to climb one!”

“This is the Blackridge Forest,” Muriel says. She slides across the seat so she too can look out the window. “I have only seen it once before, when I came to live at the castle.” Outside the evergreens flash by in vibrant greens and ashy browns. Pine mixes with the smell of wet earth, a welcome relief after passing so many farms.

“Where did you live before?” Helena asks, her eyebrows pulling together and her lips pursing.

“I lived on a little island way out in the middle of the ocean. That is where your father is sending us now. But no need to worry, you, my love, will never have to live there. You just have to be brave.”

“Where are we going?” she asks. Her face has relaxed and she is beginning to lose interest in the conversation. She runs the fabric of Muriel’s sweater through her fingers, nails catching on the loose strands of wool. She clears her throat twice and dabs the corner of her left eye before she responds.

“You are going on an adventure with Mama’s friend, Welher. He is very nice. You met him once a long time ago, the man with the funny red hair. Do you remember him?” Helena shakes her head no. “But Mama, Mama has to stay here.”

“Why? I want to stay with you, Mama,” Helena says. Her brows are furrowed again. She lets the sweater drop from her hands. Muriel rushes on.

“Mama has to stay. I am going to play a trick on the guards so you and Aden can go on your adventure.”

“No Aden; I want you,” Helena says. She wraps her arms around Helena, shoving one between Muriel and Aden. Muriel has to readjust. She pulls Helena onto her lap and hugs both children together. Aden is awake and squirming against the sudden closeness. He lets out a cry.

“I need you to be a big girl, Helena, and help me with the trick. Do you understand?” Muriel says, hiding her face in her daughter’s hair. Helena shakes her head against Muriel’s chest. Muriel allows herself several minutes, and many deep breaths, before pulling back to look at Helena.

“Aren’t you the least bit curious how we will trick the guards?” Helena won’t make eye contact but she tilts her head and calms a little.

“We are going to use these sacks of rice Mama brought and make them look just like you and your brother are all curled up in my arms, while you escape as quiet as mice with Mama’s friend Welher. Do you think you are sneaky enough? It will be just like that time you hid under the bed and scared Mama.” Helena smiles.

“You were funny,” she says, tilting her little head back and laughing again at the memory.

“Oh I was, was I?” Muriel tickles Helena with her free arm just to see her laugh one more time. “Let us pull out the other trunk.”

Muriel once again snuggles Aden into the first trunk of belongings. Once he is secure, she pulls out the second trunk. Inside are two bags of rice, one small and one large. There are also two extra linens she snitched when no one was looking and small cloak of Helena’s. She makes it a game, letting Helena try to swaddle first the rice bag, then her brother with the extra linens. After Helena has had her fun Muriel wraps the smaller bag of rice tightly leaving a little space where a baby’s face would go. The weight is different but the appearance is good.

Next she takes the larger bag of rice. She pulls the cloak tight just below the top of the bag of rice. Pulling out her wooden hair pin she folds the top of the rice bag over the knotted cloak ties and jabs it through to keep it in place. She rolls the linen loosely then loops it so it is rounded. Finally she tucks it into the hood. The shape is not quite right for a four-year-old but the size is close enough that it could be confused for one from a distance. Helena has switched games. She is now alternating leaning close to Aden’s face and making silly sounds with leaning back and yelling in a high-pitch tone. Aden is giggling waving his plump arms at his sister. Muriel hesitates, watching the game, then draws Helena’s attention back to herself.

“Do you think this looks like you?” She asks, showing her the back of the hooded rice bag.

“No!” Helena scream-laughs.

“No?” Muriel mocks disappointment. Switching to a whisper, she leans forward, “Well then I guess you will have to be extra sneaky when you go adventuring to make up for it.”

“No, Mama.” Helena says, immediately angry.

“Please baby, you need to be brave like Baron the Brave.”

“No,” Helena insists. Her fine hair flutters back and forth as she shakes her head in emphasis. Muriel’s heart seizes as she realizes she is going to have to lie.

“But I will be joining you shortly,” she says, leaning forward and turning her head so she can see Helena’s downturned face. “You could be brave for a few minutes, right? Just until I can come too?”

Muriel makes a show of picking up Aden. It lets her turn her face away for a moment, hiding her expression. Aden grabs Muriel’s hair and tugs on it, tangling his fingers hopelessly in the curly strands. Helena does not respond.

“You could be brave for Aden, right? He does not know how to be brave yet. I bet if you are brave, he will want to be too.”

“Can I take the fruit?” Helena asks, glancing at what is left in the bag. “And my baby?”

“Of course, how about we use the lunch sack to make sure you have what you need?” Muriel says. Together they pack up Helena’s doll, the fruit, and the cheese. Helena refuses to take the bread, making a face. Instead, she digs through Muriel’s trunk letting out an excited grunt when she finds the tan wooden box.

“Yes? Mama?” Helena implores. Inside the box is an antique gold ring with three small jewels surrounded by carved vines. On the inside of the ring Imilia’s name is inscribed. Muriel pauses.

“Sure love, you hold on to that for me until I see you again,” she lies. Her lip trembles so she bites down on it hard, forcing the sides of her mouth up. She holds Aden closer in her arms. “Looks like you are all packed. Would you like to look out the window with me and Aden for a while?”

Aden sits in Muriel’s lap, playing with her fingers. Occasionally he gnaws on them with the two teeth that have only just broken through his gums. Helena is beginning to tire from the excitement of the day. The sun is making its slow descent and occasionally they can see glimpses of the vibrant yellow light reflecting off of the distant water. They are still in the forest but now travel parallel to the coast.

Muriel feeds the baby one last time, then carefully arranges the rice children close to her on the bench. Helena sits on the floor holding Aden. She is calm but watches Muriel warily. Once Muriel is sure the rice children are placed so she can pull them close quickly to complete the ruse, she slides to the floor. She pulls both her children tightly against her for what feels like the hundredth time today. She kisses them both on each cheek.
“I love you so much my brave ones. I love you so, so much.”

“I love you Mama,” Helena says softly.

“Helena,” she starts. The carriage lurches to a halt and Muriel’s shoulder strikes one of the bench seats as she shields the children. Aden starts to cry so she jiggles him in her arm. Muriel listens to the noises outside intently.

At first it is oddly quiet, then men’s voices ring out from the woods around the carriage. Muriel squeezes the children close, then lets go of Helena long enough to pull the curtains shut on the carriage. She does not want anyone accidentally seeing inside. The guards will not risk shooting if they cannot see where everyone is. The Lord might have no affection for them but he still considers them his property.

Helena is clinging to Muriel’s leg, almost tripping her as she turns around. The sound of steel clashing has joined the shouting. The carriage door is thrown open and Muriel freezes. She has not considered what to do if a guard arrives first.

Thankfully it is Welher. He glances backwards and slides inside the carriage, crouching to fit his large frame inside. His face looks fierce, particularly with the scar that runs from his nose to his cheek on the left side. His expression softens when he sees Muriel.

“We do not have much time,” he says. He pulls a sling out from his shirt and gently takes Aden from Muriel. Helena clings even more tightly to Muriel’s leg as she watches the man tuck her little brother back inside his shirt.

“Remember, you have to be a brave, sneaky little mouse,” Muriel says, picking up Helena as Welher leans back to peer out the cracked door.

“Coast is clear,” he says, pushing it open and turning around to reach for Helena. Helena shakes her head violently, trying to remain quiet as her mother instructed.

“I love you. I will see you soon,” Muriel says, trying to detach Helena. Welher glances towards the front of the carriage, fear flashing across his face. Grabbing Helena by the waist he pulls her backward out of the carriage. Helena flails, letting out a scream and kicking him squarely in the groin as he tries to get a grip on her. Welher leans forward with a gasp and drops Helena onto the ground, her face hitting the dirt. Before Welher can recover she scrambles back up into the carriage, arms immediately thrown out for Muriel. Welher makes to reach for her again but an arrow embeds itself in the door frame inches shy of his face. He meet Muriel’s eyes for a fraction of a second and they both know they were out of time. Despite his size Welher only takes a few steps backward into the woods before he disappears from sight. One of the many skills Muriel has chosen him for. Aden’s cries are still covered by the shouts coming from the guards. Shouts that are coming closer.

Kicking over her trunk, which is still open from Helena’s exploring earlier, Muriel simultaneously yanks apart the fake version of Helena. The items inside scatter in the direction of the door. She scoops up Helena who is screaming, “Baby!” Cuddling Helena against one shoulder to stifle the scream, she only barely manages to tuck the fake baby into the crook of her other arm before the door is thrown wide. It is Canon, the friendlier of the guards.

“Was anyone hurt,” he demands, breathing hard and leaning against the doorframe with one hand.

“They thought we had gold or jewels,” Muriel says, breathing hard herself. She thinks of Aden and lets tears flow down her cheeks. Her voice cracks.

“But no one was hurt?” Canon persists. Muriel shakes her head. To avoid making eye contact she tucks her face into Helena’s shoulder. Helena is violently shaking and sobbing. Muriel can feel her tears through the shoulder of her dress.

“Keep the curtains closed and stay away from the windows. We need to get out of the area in case the outlaws come back,” Canon says, starting to stand up straighter. Someone yells from the front of the carriage.

“Get a move on it!”

“Sod off, I am coming!” he yells back, shutting the door. Muriel lets the fake baby fall to the seat and wraps both arms around Helena. They cry together.

“Baby Aden,” Helena whispers, turning her head so she can face Muriel.

“He’s safe,” Muriel whispers back.

“The bad man took the baby.” Helena hiccups, starting to shake again.

“No, no. He’s not a bad man. He’s Mama’s friend.”

“No, he’s bad. He tried to take me away,” Helena insists.

“You will see your brother again,” Muriel promises. She moves Helena to her other shoulder. Even that moment of separation starts Helena crying violently again.

“No, no, no, no!” Helena scream.

“Shhhh, I’m just giving you a dry place to rest your head. Shhhh,” Muriel soothes. She keeps talking, making promises, telling Helena about where they are heading. By the time they reach the coast, Helena has only just fallen into an exhausted sleep. It is occasionally punctuated by hiccups. Muriel tries not to think of Aden, with his tuft of dark blonde hair and his rounded belly. She tries not to think of all the ways he is his own person already, at such a young age. Her arms tighten so much that Helena pushes at her in her sleep.

Muriel loosens her hold and uses one arm to peek out the curtains. She is surprised by the nostalgic hit of the salt air and soft swishing sound of the waves on top of everything else. Wood docks jut out into the ocean with boats ranging from large fishing vessels to small row boats bobbing up against them. Letting the curtains fall shut, she adjusts Helena, who stirs and wakes back up. Helena looks around, confused for a moment, then her face morphs into horror as Muriel picks up the rice baby. She struggles and tries to push it away.

“No!”

“Please, love, please. I know I have asked so much of you today, but please,” Muriel tries to tuck the bundle into the crook of her arm but Helena continues to push at it.

“No! No, Mama, no!”

The carriage opens, and Muriel jumps. She drops the rice baby altogether as Helena lands one final shove. Helena flinches back from the door and hides her face, locking her arms around Muriel’s neck.

“What is going on here?” Canon demands, looking from the sack of rice sticking out of the swaddle to Muriel. She remains silent; there is nothing to say. Canon orders her out of the carriage and she obliges, awkwardly stepping down without assistance. She is still holding Helena. One of the guards tries to take Helena away but Helena lashes out at anyone who tries and Muriel does her best to put herself between Helena and the men. Finally the group decides they are wasting time. So long as they can see both Helena and Muriel there is no necessity to separate them. Muriel is ushered out onto the dock away from the many sailors and carts going about their business. Muriel watches as they send out riders in the direction they have just come from. Finally, weary, she sits down on the dock, careful to keep Helena’s body close in the process. Helena has stopped crying, likely she has no more tears to lose. Her grip on Muriel’s dress is so tight her knuckles are white. Gently, Muriel rubs each little finger. With a kiss and promise she is not going anywhere for each finger, she finally manages to get Helena to relax her grip.

“You and I, love, we are going to be together after all. You will get to see where your Mama was born.” After a few more moments of silence, Muriel softly begins to sing.

“Wind and water tell me your secrets

I call to the storms and beg the sky,

Earth and fire tell me your secrets,

Let the ground shake and the lightning fly.

Fate and Future tell me your secrets

What must be broken to save this land?”

Helena goes rigid in Muriel’s arms. A sharp wind off the water sends a chill up Muriel’s back and snaps her hair into her face.

“Helena, love.” Pulling back Muriel can see that Helena’s face is pale. Her eyes are open and moving rapidly. Sliding Helena to the ground she hovers over her for a moment, hands floating uselessly.

“Helena.” Muriel says more forcefully. She grips her shoulders first then gently cups Helena’s soft face in her hands. Helena’s chest rises and falls but she does not respond.

Muriel looks around but no one is paying attention to them. All the guards are focused on keeping out anyone approaching the dock from the land.

“Baby, please.” Muriel places her hand on Helena’s chest to reassure herself she is still breathing. All of the sudden Helena’s eyes stop darting about and focus on Muriel.

“Don’t leave,” she says, her voice so soft Muriel has to lean in even closer to hear her. Her breath feels warm against Muriel’s clammy skin. “Please Mama, don’t.”

“I won’t,” Muriel says. “I won’t, I promise. We will go find Aden together. I promise.”

“I saw you leave,” Helena says. Helena’s eyes are dry but her look is so bereft of joy Muriel almost draws back.

“What do you mean you saw?” Muriel asks. At first she thinks Helena has begun to spasm then realizes it is her own hands that are jerking violently. Collapsing next to Helena she gathers her limp body close.

“Mama left me,” Helena says. She says it as if Muriel is not there holding her. She looks around confused like she’s woken from a nightmare.

“Mama is right here. I am right here.” Carefully, Muriel chooses her words. “When Mama left you, how long was her hair?” Right now, it only reaches her shoulders, but on the island everyone wore their hair long. “Was it long?” Helena looks up and nods, though her eyes don’t seem to quite focus on Muriel. Muriel brushes Helena’s hair behind her ear, nodding slightly against the messy hair that was once a braid. Beyond Helena she can see the tiniest dot where the island is silhouetted against the horizon.