The Light of Dacardia

     In a small cottage nestled inland, just beyond the cliffs, Oggy sat by the window, his aged claws resting on the arm of an old wooden chair. He was an older Bori now, his fur had greyed but he retained his keen eyes and wit. He liked to sit here in this chair, watching the world go by in the quieter moments of his day. Today, however, was different. His gaze was fixed on the distant lighthouse, barely visible through the storm clouds gathering at the horizon. The lighthouse was Oggy’s pride and joy. He had affectionately called it ‘Bea’ when he was a child. This lighthouse and his home had been in his family for generations.

     ”And it always will be,” Oggy muttered under his breath.

     The wind had begun to pick up, whistling through the tiles on the roof. The old home started to creak and groan. Oggy could hear the distant waves crashing louder and louder against the rocky shores. The storm was coming fast, faster than he had expected. Oggy rose from his seat, concerned. He hadn’t seen a storm like this before, and he had weathered many, many storms.

     Behind him, a soft shuffle of blankets stirred in the stillness of the room, it was Nala, his granddaughter. She was his other responsibility; her parents were sailors who prowled the seas around Dacardia looking for the freshest catch. He loved her immensely.

     Nala blinked groggily as she awoke. The rumbling of the foreboding thunder had woken her from sleep. Nala sat up, rubbing her eyes and staring at her grandpa’s back, his posture tense as he stared out into the darkening sky.

     “Grandpa?” she whispered; her voice uncertain in the rising wind. She clutched her baby blue blanket closer, the howl of the wind sending a shiver down her spine. The soft wool felt warm against her fur. This had been her father’s blanket before her, and her grandpa’s before that.

     Oggy turned slowly, a warm, reassuring smile crossing his wrinkled face, though his eyes held a small flicker of worry. "Don’t worry, Nala," he said, his voice calm, “It’s just a storm. Nothing we can’t handle”. He quietly hoped the white lie would reassure her, though it did little to quiet his own concerns as the storm churned fiercely outside.

     But even as he spoke, the wind rattled the windows harder, the distant lighthouse was now nearly lost behind the thickening veil of rain and clouds. Worry tugged at him, concerns for her parents beginning to rise in his mind. He tried to shake the worry away. He didn’t have time for it, for now, he had to get Nala settled, hopefully her parents would be back soon. Even as that thought sprang to his mind, the storm seemed to press against the walls of the cottage, as though the very wind itself was trying to find its way inside. Nala shivered, pulling her blanket even tighter around her small body. Oggy crouched beside her, his gentle claws brushing her cheek.

     “Back to bed, little one,” he whispered, his voice soft but steady. “Remember, we are Bori, made from stern stuff, we weather any storm. We’ll be safe here, I promise.”

     Nala hesitated, her large eyes searching his face for reassurance. “But what about the storm? Are Mum and Dad coming home soon?”

     Oggy’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “The storm will pass and I’m sure your parents are on the way home right now. I’ll be right here with you until they arrive.” He helped her back under the covers and tucked her in. She snuggled into the blankets, the distant rumble of thunder blending into a lullaby that slowly pulled her back to sleep. As she drifted off, Oggy looked at her gentle face. She was always such a happy little Bori. Full of kindness, care and happiness. He hated lying to her, but he also didn’t know where her parents were.

     Oggy stood by her bed for a long moment, watching the rise and fall of her breathing. The wind outside had grown fiercer now, rattling the shutters like impatient fists. He turned back to the window. Beyond the rain-smeared glass, he could still make out the faint glow of the lighthouse.

     His heart stopped. All at once, the light flickered, then the lighthouse went dark. The only beacon of safety for the ships still braving the storm had gone out.

     Oggy’s breath caught in his throat. Panic rose in his chest; her parents had no chance of making it back without that lighthouse. Were they back in the port already? His old legs ached from years of climbing that lighthouse, but he had never felt the weight of it like he did now. His eyes darted to Nala, her small figure curled up, so peaceful, so unaware. Normally, he would bring her to the lighthouse with him but if the light had gone out, then the storm was very bad indeed. He couldn’t risk bringing her, she would have to stay. Every instinct screamed at him to stay with her, to protect her from the storm, but the darkness outside tugged at him even harder. Lives depended on that light. It was his job, his responsibility, his duty to get that light back on. He couldn’t just stand by and do nothing. If the lighthouse wasn’t fixed …

     With heavy steps, he moved to the small wooden table near the hearth and grabbed a scrap of parchment. His claw trembled as he scrawled a quick note, his words hurried and uneven:

     Gone to the lighthouse to fix Bea. Stay safe, and stay inside. I’ll be back soon, I promise. I love you.

     Oggy placed the note carefully on the table, weighing it down with a smooth pebble Nala had collected from the beach weeks ago; she loved collecting trinkets. He took one last look at her, sleeping soundly, and his heart clenched with guilt.

     “Forgive me,” he whispered, as he dressed in his warmest coat, then turned toward the door.

     The moment he stepped outside, the wind hit him like a wall. Rain lashed at his fur, soaking him in an instant. The wind had instantly caught the door and it swung from his grip. He grasped it just in time to prevent it from shattering against the wall of the house. That was close, he thought. The sound would certainly have woken Nala. He looked cautiously in the direction of the lighthouse. He had to go on. His mind raced as his claws pounded over the muddy path. Each step toward the lighthouse felt heavier than the last. As the rain fell harder, the old Bori’s fur clung to his skin, and his breath came in ragged bursts. The lighthouse was so close yet felt impossibly far. But still, Oggy pressed on, the storm closing in on him. He knew he was in a dangerous position, but his thoughts remained on Nala. She was all alone, and his heart was torn in two. He hoped she would be okay.

     Nala stirred in her bed, her dreams had been filled with the distant rumble of thunder and flashes of lightning. But something else tugged at her from the edges of sleep: something wasn’t right. She blinked her eyes open, listening to the rain hammer against the roof, the wind howling as if the storm itself was calling out to her.

     She reached out for the familiar warmth of her grandpa’s paw, but the space beside her bed was empty. She frowned and sat up, her heart quickening as she scanned the room. The chair where her Grandpa had sat was also vacant, and the only sound inside the cottage was the creaking of the shutters in the wind.

     “Grandpa?” she called softly, into the silence.

     A shiver ran down her spine, colder than the air. She gently tugged off the blanket, folded it carefully on the bed and slid out onto the floor, her small paws making soft thumps on the wood. Her eyes landed on the table near the hearth, where a folded piece of parchment sat. With a furrowed brow, she crept over and lifted the smooth pebble weighing it down. Fond memories bubbled to the surface of her mind as she recalled wrestling this pebble from a clumsy Crabby-bot down by the shore.

     She shook the memories from her mind and returned her attention to the note. It was brief, and she recognised her grandfather’s unmistakable scrawl. Nala’s heart dropped as she read it. He had gone to check on the Light of Dacardia. Of course, he did. She had heard the stories her whole life—how Grandpa Oggy had kept the light burning through the fiercest of storms, protecting the ships and sailors of Dacardia. But why hadn’t he woken her? He always woke her. This storm must have been very bad.

     “I guess, I’ll wait here then”, Nala shrugged. She wasn’t sure what to do while she waited but she knew that it was the right thing to do. She scuttled over to her bed. That’s when she saw it, her Grandpa’s wrench! The one he always carried with him when tending to the lighthouse. It lay forgotten beneath the table. Nala’s breath caught in her throat. He must have been in such a hurry that he’d left it behind.

     Tears threatened to overwhelm her eyes. Without the wrench, how could he fix the lighthouse in the middle of this terrible storm? She swallowed hard, knowing what she had to do, though her claws trembled at the thought. Grandpa was out there, alone, in the dark, battling the storm to save the island. And he needed her help.

     Nala hesitated for a moment, what if her parents returned when she was out? Would they be mad at her, would her Grandpa?

     “No … I have to do this”, said Nala. Before she could let her fear take over, Nala grabbed the wrench, its metal cold against her fur. She tucked it under her arm and hurried to the door, her mind racing with a mixture of determination and worry. She dressed quickly, applying layer after layer of coats from the coat stand. That’s what her Grandpa would ask her to do, so she was doing it. Underneath her yellow coat, she tucked her favourite blanket in and zipped up the coat. She approached the door and breathed in.

     The wind roared as she pushed the door open, rain slashing across her face like icy needles. The door, caught in the grip of the wind, shattered against the wall. Nala jumped as wood splintered and landed by her feet. The world outside was a swirling maelstrom of rain and wind.

     “This … is bad”, she thought. For a moment, she hesitated, her small figure was dwarfed by the fury of the storm. Clutching the wrench tighter, she took a deep breath and stepped further into the storm.

     She knew the way to the lighthouse, it was up a steep hill and you followed a path down through a small ravine which led down to the shore. The start was normally a steep climb for her little legs, but with the storm, it was much harder to traverse. Each step was a struggle as the wind tried to knock her over. As she walked her sodden clothes began to stick to her peach fur, making every step a greater chore than the one before. Her heart beat furiously as she made it halfway up the hill. She had to reach her Grandpa, she had to help. Lightning illuminated the sky above her for a quick moment before plunging the island back into darkness. Allowing her eyes to catch a glimpse of the boulders tumbling across the top of the hill.

To be continued…