Chapter Four

Come to Me! Come!

We swam around the point and there they were, scattered on the beach like sun-silvered driftwood.

“Hey!” I called, stopping to tread water so I could shout louder. “Over here! It’s me!”

One of the logs arced up a shining head.

Beside me, Mam sang out, “Come to me! Come!” It was the ritual greeting after a long time apart. The notes hung sparkling in the air.

In a flash they were scooting toward the water, flippers slapping shale, bellies thumping. They splashed into the waves.

I struck out toward them. I’d only gone a few strokes when Maura zipped up from below, rolling me over and over in a spiral. We broke apart at the surface, grinning at each other. Then Cormac grabbed my foot in his mouth and tugged me down to where the water grew dim. I kicked free and grabbed his flippers. We sped to the surface and burst through in a backflip as high as a rainbow. I splashed down, laughing so hard I had to tread water to catch my breath.

“Hi, Aran,” said a soft voice next to my ear. Mist’s warm eyes glowed in her pale gray pelt.

And then there was Grandmam, with her smile like midsummer sun, swimming up next to me and turning sideways for a hug.

“I’ve missed you,” she whispered, tickling my ear with her whiskers, like always.

“Come on!” called Maura, heading back to the beach. “Do we have tales to tell you!”

We all turned to follow.

I glanced back once to make sure Mam was coming. She and Lyr were behind everyone else, swimming slowly, and so close together their flippers were almost touching.

As soon as we came ashore, Maura flopped up beside me. “We brought you a present,” she said.

I looked around eagerly. Presents were usually something special to eat.

Maura turned to Grandmam. “Where did you put them?”

“I hid them away,” said Grandmam. “Close your eyes, Aran.”

I shut my eyes as she thumped toward the rocks.

“I helped with the carrying,” said Mist.

Cormac chuckled. “Mist and your grandmam are the best at carrying things in their mouths. Lyr and I chomp down on everything.”

“And I’m always swallowing things by accident,” said Maura. “Or I would have helped, too. You’ll love them, they—”

“Quiet, Maura,” said Cormac and Mist together.

Grandmam thumped closer. Something clinked onto the pebbles.

“Open your eyes,” she said.

At my feet were three golden suns, small and flat and round. I dropped to my knees and gathered them in my cupped hand.

“What are they?” I asked.

Cormac tossed his head proudly. “There was an old shipwreck off the mainland, where a river twists the currents around. We found a chest.”

“Actually, it was your grandmam who found it,” said Mist. “The rest of us helped break it open. It took a while. That’s why Lyr swam ahead to find you.” She smiled at Mam. “He couldn’t wait.”

The suns were heavy in my hand. Even in the gathering twilight, they glittered and glowed.

“They’re called doubloons,” said Maura. “Humans make them out of gold. Well? Do you like them?”

“I love them.” I leaned over to give each member of the clan a hug. Grandmam I hugged the hardest and longest of all.

“Now,” said Mam, settling beside Lyr on the flat rocks. “Tell us everything! How far north you went, and if you met anyone interesting, and where the currents are shifting, and where the fish are fattest, and—”

“Hold on,” said Cormac, scooting next to Maura. Mist stretched out long beside me, and Grandmam gazed in contentment at Mam. We were together, every single one of us, the way it was meant to be.

I always told Mam that the times we spent alone were just as good, and she always agreed. But now she strained forward, like she was leaping into the water, eager to explore every shore, to ride every wave—to live the journey that she’d missed. A pang of guilt twinged in my chest.

“Start with where you went,” said Mam.

“Up the coast,” said Lyr. “Past the island with two pines, past the delta where the currents make a whirlpool.”

“The water was low there,” said Mist.

Cormac got a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “That’s where Maura saw this handsome selkie in the water, and she stopped to brush her whiskers and smooth her pelt—”

“I did not!” said Maura.

“Yes, you did,” said Cormac. “Maura never can resist a handsome face. But when she swam up to introduce herself, it splashed backward—it was nothing but a seal! You should have seen its expression. It practically flew out of there.”

Everyone laughed good-heartedly, even Maura. Finally she said, “Well, it’s not like we meet lots of other selkies. You have to hope!”

Lyr went back to describing their route. After the delta there were fewer boats and fewer houses along the shore, and the waters grew colder. They swam farther than ever before—so far north, floating boulders of ice sparkled in the water. And that, he said, was where they met three members of the white selkie clan.

Mam gasped. “The white selkies! I thought they were just a tale.”

“Their pelts are as bright as snowdrifts,” said Maura. “Do you think, when they’re in longlimbs, their hair is white, too?”

Cormac shook his head. “Hair is always black in longlimbs.”

“Not Aran’s,” said Maura. “He’s got those light spots.”

Grandmam gave me a warm smile. “Dappled like a pelt.”

I’d never met any selkies beyond my own small clan. I scooted forward. “Do they talk like us?” I said. “Are there lots of them?”

But Grandmam had turned to Mam. “They said they’re coming to Moon Day.”

“Moon Day!” Mam sighed with longing. She hadn’t been to the rites since I was born.

Moon Day only came every few years, when the Moon circled closest to Earth, huge and round, and her pull on the tides—and the folk—was the strongest. I’d begged Mam to take me last time, even though I knew full well I’d need tail and flippers for the journey. It was days of open-sea swimming to reach the Spire. Without a pelt, you can’t sleep in open water, or close your nostrils to swim fast and far beneath the waves. And you have to swim there by yourself. No one can help you.

The funny thing is, once you get there, you slip your pelt right off again. It takes legs to climb the steep path, up and up until you’re practically in the Moon’s realm. That’s where you whisper your prayers in her ear.

“All the clans are gathering,” said Grandmam. “The Moon hasn’t been this close in eighteen years.”

Mist turned to Mam. “We came back to find you instead of heading right there, in case . . .” Her voice trailed off as she glanced at me; catching my eye, she tilted her head, as if to say she was sorry.

“Is it this full Moon?” I said.

Mist nodded.

“I wish I could go,” I said.

This time everyone nodded.

“Then I could meet other selkies,” I went on, half dreaming. “I bet there are lots and lots of them, aren’t there? Are all the clans different? Do any of them come from the old shores? Maybe there’d be some pups my age, and I could play with them and—”

“Aran,” said Grandmam gently. “There will be plenty more Moon Days when you can come.”

My shoulders slumped. Mist nudged me with a flipper and said, “We won’t be gone for long. It’s only a three-day swim if we sleep on the rocks off Black Cove.”

Lyr shook his head. “Don’t you remember? There are humans on that island now. They’ve built houses.”

“Humans!” Cormac’s voice dripped with scorn. “They should stay on the mainland, where they belong.”

And then they were talking about which route to take, and old friends they hoped to see, and suddenly I didn’t want to hear any more. I slipped away and walked down the beach, scuffing at stones, all the way to the tide pools.

The tide was out; the seaweed lay flat and shapeless. I poked at a hermit crab. It drew back into a shell covered with tiny barnacles and scraps of kelp. It was a good disguise. Unless you looked closely, you couldn’t tell who was hiding inside. I was about to pick it up when Grandmam appeared at my side.

“Come on, I’ll tell you a story,” she said.

I jumped up, but then stopped. “I’m too old for stories,” I said.

“You’re never too old for stories. Come on, let’s go where we won’t disturb the others.”

She scooted down the shore and I followed, relieved she hadn’t left me time to protest.