Another meteor fell: a big one to the south. It had a white head and a long reddish tail. I began to notice a funny sensation in the pit of my stomach. Or was it in my groin? An ache. No. More intense than that. A definite pain.

Menstrual cramps! I couldn’t believe it. I had a capsule in my arm that was supposed to release hormones at a set rate for 180 days. I was safe for half a year. No menses. No cramps. No blood. Well, maybe a little spotting. They had warned us about that. The hormone level was set as low as possible.

What had gone wrong? Had the capsule been defective? Maybe it was stress. I’d been through a lot in the past few days. And stress could do a lot to the endocrine system.

I kept walking. The pain got worse, and the bugs kept following and biting.

I knew just what to do. Get a blanket and a container of tea spiked with whiskey. Crawl into bed in my cabin. Turn on the blanket and consume the tea. Listen to music. Go to sleep. Unfortunately—

At dawn the flow began. The cramps eased. The bugs became less active. I sat down. The sun came up, and the last of the bugs departed. I lay back and put an arm over my face.

I dreamt. There was a tower that looked like Inahooli’s tower. It was in Hawaii in my front yard, surrounded by flowering plumeria trees.

I was sitting near the tower in the shadow of a tree, talking to someone, having an argument. At first I had no idea who the person was. Then I realized it was very small, about knee high to me. It kept changing as it talked, shrinking, then expanding, then shrinking again. Its shape changed as well as its size. At times it seemed to be a tiny human. At other times it was a tiny furry person. Strangest of all, at times it seemed to be a bug, standing on six legs and waving a pair of forearms at me. At all times it was brown and shiny, the color of a cockroach. I couldn’t tell what sex it was.

It had a high shrill voice.

“I am the Little Bug Spirit. I come to people when they begin to take themselves too seriously. They think they are big. I cut them down to size.”

This angered me. I tried to speak, but I couldn’t get my thoughts together.

The person went on, “I am the stone under your foot. I am the bug that bites you in the ass. I am the fart that comes when you are introduced to the important visiting professor. I am menstrual cramps and diarrhea.”

I kept getting angrier.

“My tools are lies and tricks, misunderstandings and accidents. Everything stupid and undignified happens because of me. Hola! I am something!”

I reached to grab the person. It scurried away, and I was alone, feeling happy.

A voice said, “That does no good.”

I looked up. The person was above me, sitting on a branch, surrounded by cream-white plumeria flowers. It waved its antennae. Its dark body glinted.

“The oracle will think this happened because of the spirits in the cave. Ulzai will think it happened because of the umazi.Nia will feel guilty and angry, as if she is responsible. And you will think the boat went over for no good reason.

“I tell you, I did it. Hola! I am something, even though I am small!” The person spread wings and flew away, making a whirring noise. It passed the tower and disappeared into the blue-green sky.

I woke. It was midmorning, and I lay in sunlight under a cloudless sky the color of the sky in my dream. I felt confused for a moment. Where was I? Not Hawaii. Nor Minnesota. I sat up and remembered. I was eighteen light-years from home. My skin itched. I looked at my arms. They were covered with lumps.

“Don’t panic,” I told myself after a moment in which I panicked. “Those are bug bites, and the mosquitoes in Minnesota have done a lot worse to you.”

My voice sounded calm. That was a comfort. I stood up. My clothes stuck to me. Sweat, mostly. There was a dark stain in the crotch of my jeans. Sweat and blood.

The first thing to do was take a bath, then wash my clothes and do my yoga.

I walked down the beach till I was past the wall of driftwood. Then I dug a hole in the sand close to the water. It was slow work. I had no tools except my hands and a piece of driftwood.

When the hole was large enough, I dug a channel to the river. Water flowed in. I undressed and knelt in the sandy little pool and washed, using my one remaining sock as a washcloth.

Afterward, I put my clothing in to soak and did yoga, ending by meditating, looking out at the river with half-shut eyes. Light flashed off the green-brown water. O you jewel of the lotus.

I wrung out my clothes and spread them on the sand to dry, sat down and examined my tools. This time the lighter glowed. I tested it on my piece of driftwood. The wood caught fire. That solved two problems. The bugs and how to signal other people.

I put the lighter aside and examined the knife. The blade was ten centimeters long, made of rustproof steel. Sharp. I could use it to cut up food.

I had no intention of trying to cross the river until I’d stopped menstruating, which meant I was stuck on the island for at least four days. What was I going to eat?

I could fast, of course. I had done that before. But I might end up too weak to swim and looking for food was an occupation. I had once read a book by Leona Field, one of the leaders of the Second American Revolution. Leader was the wrong word. Leona was an anarchist; she didn’t believe in leaders. She had spent a lot of her life waiting, in prison and out. Her advice was—plan the next step, be patient, keep busy. I decided to take her advice.

What was available? Fish in the river. The trees were full of birds, and I had seen a little animal about the size of a squirrel. It was furry and arboreal with a long tail that looked prehensile. The animal was common on the island.

I had no way of catching the birds or the furry animals. I might be able to make a fish trap. I had watched Nia.

There were plants. I was a little worried about them. Organisms that couldn’t run often relied on poison as a protection.

I could collect some likely specimens and test them by eating small quantities.

There were bugs. Grubs were a source of protein. I didn’t think they were likely to be poisonous.

What about animals other than fish? Were there things like clams or crayfish? There was a lot about this planet I didn’t know.

Time for more exploring. I used the wet sock to wash off my legs, thinking—as I did so—that I was going to have to find something to use as a menstrual pad. This was awfully damn messy and maybe dangerous: I did not like the idea of leaving a trail of blood. I rinsed the sock and laid it out to dry, put on my underpants and shirt, and walked to the forest.

For the next couple of hours I lifted fallen branches and turned over stones, picked leaves and pulled up roots. It was hot among the trees. After a while I took off my shirt and turned it into a carry bag. Sweat ran down my back and between my breasts. Bugs hummed around me. Only a few bit. I didn’t know why. Maybe there was only one species that thought I was edible, and that species came out at night. Maybe … To hell with it. I wasn’t going to theorize.

I found a bush covered with round purple berries. Birds flew out of it as I approached. The ground was covered with purple-white droppings. That seemed to indicate edibility.

A dead branch turned out to be the home of many yellow grubs. I added them to my bag. They squirmed among the berries.

Another dead branch had no animal life that I could find, but the inner bark was soft and came off easily in long sheets. I ought to be able to fashion an absorbent pad. The bark went in with the grubs and berries.

I spent half an hour watching the arboreal animals. They whistled and chirped and threw things at me. Twigs, mostly. I stayed where I was and stared at them, hoping they’d throw something useful. One finally did. A half-eaten fruit. I picked it up.