Perian opened his eyes and blinked up at the bright yellow sun. He pushed himself upright, then snatched his hands away from the sand to look at the palms. They were whole. No blood, no raw flesh. Whole and strong. Stretching carefully, he found that no part of his body was aching. He stood up and looked around, hearing the songs of many birds sounding from the dense growth of trees at the centre of the island. He shook his head; the sights and the sounds and the warmth of the sun remained.
“Well,” he said aloud, “I might as well enjoy it.” He pulled off his salt-stiffened clothing and walked naked down to the sea. Here he found that the water was bitter cold, although the sand was warm to his bare feet. He looked out towards the west, and saw far off a place where the blue went out of the sky, and the grey winter still reigned.
Coming up the beach he paused by the battered old boat and laying his hand upon it said:
“I name you Voyager.”
Then turning and looking up to the blue sky, he cried:
“And I name this land Eluth, the last island. I claim no rule here – only let me pass in peace.”
No voice answered him; only the birds sang a little louder, so he took this as a welcome and set off along a fair wide path among the trees.
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