"Tiko? What is it?" I asked as I stepped out onto the balcony. He prowled around, whining, ears attentive. His restlessness gave me the creeps.
The misty morning was usually nice and calm around Mauritius, but on that fateful day, the sea refused to hold its breath for even a single moment. My faithful dog Tiko, caramel-colored and with a gaze wise enough to understand what I could not, had been restless since dawn.
Tiko then suddenly darted down the footpath leading to the beach.
"Hey! Tiko, wait!" My heart was racing for reasons unknown to me, and I started running after him, toward the beach. The waves violently crashed against the shore, ferocious, savage, unusual at that time of the day.
And then I saw her.
A little girl lay still, half-buried by seaweed. She had pale skin and bluish lips. Tiko barked furiously as he stood beside her.
"Oh my God..." I dropped to my knees. "Can you hear me?" My voice trembled as I placed my fingers to her neck. I could feel her pulse, faint, but there.
"Hang in there, sweetheart," I whispered. "Please...stay with me."
I lifted her into my arms and ran back to our cottage, with Tiko following behind, whimpering as if urging me not to slow down.
In those two days, the girl wavered between life and the otherworldly. I wrapped her in blankets, and spooned some hot herbal tea into her mouth. Sometimes she would shudder. Sometimes she would call out in a language I could not grasp.
On the third night, I sat beside her bed while Tiko lay curled near her feet. She woke slowly and stared at me with those big, searching eyes.
"You’re safe," I said softly. "I’m... Tiana."
She did not answer. Her gaze moved to Tiko. She lifted one tiny hand and rested it gently on his head. Tiko wagged his tail and licked her fingers. Her lips finally curved into a tiny smile.
Later, I went back with a bowl of warm broth. "Here," I said, holding up the spoon. "It’s just soup, please try it."
She opened her mouth and sipped. A faint sigh escaped her lips, while I smiled in relief. I could tell she really liked it.
"Do you remember your name?" I asked.
She paused, then in a hoarse voice, scarcely above a whisper, she uttered, "Li... ora."
"Liora," I repeated. "That's a very beautiful name."
With unsteady hands, she removed her necklace — a delicate shell on a string.
"Keep," she said faintly. Placing it on my palm.
"No, no, it’s yours," I said, but she shook her head, closing my fingers around it. "Good heart."
Those two words sounded so sincere that I felt a tightening in my chest.
In my dream that night, I saw a woman standing upon the shore, her dress fluttering in the sea wind. She looked at me with solemn, ancient eyes and murmured something in an unknown tongue — somehow I knew it from my memory, as if it was a long-forgotten language. She carried a shell, the very same as Liora's.
I woke up with tears running down my cheeks. There was Liora, in the doorway, silently watching me.
"Can… you remember where you are from ?" I asked, half-laughing.
Her head tilted. "You… found me."
"I'm so glad you're alive," I said, stroking her cheek.
Days later, a search party came from the northern village, having heard rumors of a rescued child. One woman was in tears holding Liora.
They thanked me a dozen times, but Liora kept glancing back at me as they led her away. She put her hand on her heart.
"Thank you," she said.
"Take care of her," I told them, my voice choked. "She's special."
The woman nodded. "We know. She is... different. She sees angels from the past, she brings messages from them."
I watched as they disappeared down the path. Tiko whimpered, his face sad, ears drooping.
"She'll be all right," I said as I knelt to pat him. Yet somehow, I knew the child had been more than just a victim of the storm.
That evening, I sat on the shore with Tiko, sunlight turning the sea into molten gold. I turned the shell over in my palm, noting the strange carvings. In the spiral center, faint but clear, was a symbol I recognized from my late grandmother’s wooden prayer box — a sign of protection. An old family emblem.
“So it wasn’t just chance,” I murmured. "She brought me a message from grandma."
Tiko barked softly, as if in agreement.
I pressed the shell to my chest and closed my eyes.
On that fateful day, I thought Tiko was simply barking at the sea. But he had led me toward something greater — a child, a message.
As the breeze carried a faint whisper across the shore, I found myself smiling.
Was it the wind?
Or was it Liora’s voice, echoing gently beyond the waves?
Or was it grandma's.
Image is AI generated.
🌸My Motto is: work at making myself proud of myself.🌸
Thank you very much for taking time to read me. Have a wonderful day!