Chapter Fifty-Four

The Cove

I was swimming through sun-flecked water. Fat drops of light drifted down past me, swirling together into long, silver streaks. And then the streaks flicked their tails.

Salmon!

They were big and fat and as long as my arm. What a meal one would make! They were too big for my net, so I noted the current they were riding and how fast they were swimming. Then I kicked up, looking for land. With luck I’d find a stick right away, sharpen the tip, and come back before the salmon had moved on. I could almost taste the flesh now, pink and sweet.

A curve of land appeared on the horizon. The current swept me along, and the curve grew and grew until it became an island. I stroked along a wall of rock, looking for a place to haul out. There were gaps in the wall where wind and rain had etched through, leaving windows. On the other side, the calm waters of a cove sparkled in the sun.

I rounded the point and stopped, stunned. That cusp of beach, that flat-topped boulder as big as a throne—this was the island where I first saw a human! And that gap in the rocks, that was where I saw the boat with its blood-red beak.

I slid ashore and ran to the boulder, leaping easily to the top. This was where I’d made the stone spiral with the golden tail. A wave of dizziness washed over me. The past and present were swirling around each other like shining salmon, until I couldn’t tell what was light and what was fish.

I jumped off the rock and dashed to the cliff. One rough handhold and then another—it only took me a moment to reach the crevice where I’d hidden from the man. I ducked to squeeze in, but my shoulders were too wide. Had it always been this small?

I sat on a ledge, my legs dangling down. There, that spot in the cove—that was where I’d seen Mam’s head rising. Mam, and then every other member of my clan. They had all come back for me.

The salmon had been running that morning. They were running now.

I could almost hear Lyr’s voice: Not you, pup. We’re going too far for you today.

No, I thought, setting my jaw. I jumped down and started searching in the driftwood. It wasn’t too far at all.

I found a long, straight stick and sharpened the tip with rocks. I lashed it to my leg and swam out and found the current. The salmon were right where I figured they’d be. I slipped into the silver stream, echoing their movements, and when I’d drifted close enough, I struck. It was easy. The hard part was lugging the fish back to shore.

What a feast I had that night! I stuffed myself to bursting and shared the rest with the gulls.

I stayed on the island another day, and another. The salmon moved on and still I stayed. I told myself it was because the hunting was good, and the cove was sheltered, and the cliff offered a good lookout. But that wasn’t really why.

For eleven years, after every long journey, my clan swam back to these waters to find Mam and me. Now a year had passed since they left. In the dark of night, I gazed out across the black waves to the north, trying not to hope.

When it finally happened, it wasn’t night after all. It was morning, and the fog lay low across the water, and the call of the gulls came like voices from another world. I was on the rocks, finishing a lazy breakfast of mussels and seaweed, when my skin tensed.

There was a faint disturbance in the air. It grew to a hum, and then a motor’s throbbing pulse.

I dashed and crouched at the base of a crag.

A fishing boat chugged out of the fog. It motored past, the stink of its engine filling the air. The fishermen didn’t see me, but I saw them: the weatherworn faces staring straight ahead, the cables, the huge spool of net.

When the air was quiet again, I climbed the crag and looked around. The fog was thinning. An auklet flew low, and wind shivered the water, but there was no sign of the boat. My fists relaxed.

Then a movement far out in the waves caught my eye.

There! A head was rising, round and sleek and silvery gray.

A seal, I told myself. I tried to squash down the hope in my chest, but it kept forcing its way up, an air bubble bound for the surface.

Just a seal.

The head tilted to one side. I knew the expression that went with that tilt, the laughing eyes, the wry twitch of the whiskers. My feet snuck closer to the edge of the crag. I lifted a hand and waved.

She was looking in the other direction.

Another head slipped up and swam to her side. This one was black. One black, one silver . . . My heart caught in my throat. It was them! It had to be!

“Mam!” I cried out. “Lyr! Over here! It’s me!”

Now they were spinning around each other. Black and silver twined through the crests. My body remembered those swift spirals, so tight, flipper and tail felt like my own.

The song! I needed to sing the calling song! I drew in a deep breath—

Far in the distance, the boat’s motor growled. At any other time, that sound would have sent me scrambling to hide. But my body was pulling toward Mam and Lyr with such force, I could hardly keep my feet on the crag. If I didn’t go after them now, I’d lose them forever.

I sliced into the water and raced under the waves, straining my ears for their undersea voices. Fish fled past me, away from tooth and claw. I was getting close. Close to warm pelts and bright eyes and hearing them say my name. They had come back! They’d come back looking for me!

There was a streak of silver right in front of me. She was coming out of a twirl. We burst through the waves at the same moment, my arms opening wide—

The eyes looking back at me were blank and startled. It was a seal. Only a seal.

Disappointment slashed through me, so sharp, it cut something loose. Fear, anger, despair—it all came crashing outward in an unstoppable wave—pounding through my heart, lungs, throat—and it ripped from my mouth in a wild, anguished howl.

The seal startled backward and dove. But I couldn’t stop screaming, and now it was both in me and outside me, singeing the air with its harsh smell—

The smell was smoke. The howl was a motor’s roar.

“Hang on!” cried a voice. A human voice. “We’re coming!”