Chapter Eight

Everyone Knew

The air squeezed out of my lungs as if I were drowning. I was alone with a human, without fang or claw to defend myself.

I was shaking. I reached out a hand for support and a sharp rock shifted under my palm. If I could work it loose, I’d have a weapon. As quietly as I could, barely moving, I wiggled the rock from side to side.

Down below, the man leaped atop the boulder and stood gazing out to sea, a conqueror surveying his realm. Then he sat with his legs dangling over the side.

He reached into the baggy orange skin on his chest. He seemed to have a hollow in there, like the pouch of a pelican’s beak. I watched in astonishment as he pulled out a monstrous, silver tooth. What beast had this come from, so long and thin and straight? The edge glittered like ice. I shivered, unable to look away.

He reached into his side again. Now he was unwrapping something that crackled like dried seaweed. He took out what looked like a hunk of flesh. The tooth glittered, slashed—the man lifted the thinnest of slivers to his mouth. He sliced and chewed, sliced and chewed.

Was it seal?

I shoved harder at the rock. With a snap, it broke off in my hand, sending a trail of dirt and stones rattling down. I froze.

The man turned and looked at the cliff as if seeing it for the first time. He jumped down and started walking over, stones crunching underfoot. His hands were empty. The silver tooth must be back in his chest pouch. It was so sharp, it could cut me to slivers, like the flesh he’d just eaten. Mam would never find the pieces.

I gripped the stone tighter.

At the base of the cliff, the man grabbed on to a nub of rock, raised his foot, and began to climb. He looked up for another handhold. His eyes were pale green, not at all like the dark eyes of selkies.

He climbed higher and higher. He wasn’t looking at me, so he didn’t hunt by smell, but soon he’d be eye-level with my hiding place. He’d hear my heart pounding. He was only a body length below me. I couldn’t give him time to reach for the tooth. I’d have to shove past him and leap down. I stared out across the jumble of boulders at the foot of the cliff, trying to gauge the distance.

A head rose silently in the waves.

Mam!

Lyr rose beside her, and then the rest of the clan, their faces fierce and determined. Grandmam rose last of all, slower than the rest. How far and fast she must have gone to get them!

They slipped back under. A ripple showed their path toward the boat.

Mam crept ashore so carefully, it sounded like nothing more than pebbles rolling in the surf. She bared her teeth and bit through the rope, leaving it limp and twisted like a dead snake. She stole back into the waves.

The water swirled—and then the boat was scraping back across the stones.

The man’s head whipped around. His eyes went wide. With my clan hidden underneath, it looked like the boat was swimming off by itself, backward against the tide.

“Stop!” he cried, as if the boat could hear him. But it sped up, rushing toward open ocean.

The man leaped down and ran, crying out in terror, as if the island were possessed.

The last of my fear lifted. He didn’t look dangerous anymore, just ridiculous, his legs whirling faster than puffin wings. He swerved past the throne, grabbed the silver tooth—so it had been there all along—and dashed into the surf. He took off swimming, if you could call it that: with those awkward limbs, he was all splash and no speed. Gulls jeered and screeched overhead.

The boat stopped, defying the waves so the man could catch up. He grabbed the side. It tipped toward him, about to go belly-up. Then the water swirled and the boat hung there, waiting, while he hauled himself over. His feet were barely in when the boat sprang upright. It flew toward the point. He grabbed the sticks, flinging his body back and forth, and the boat disappeared around the rocks.

The splashing faded away.

Now head after shining head rose in the cove. The air exploded with snorts and grunts of glee and the loud smack of flippers hitting the water.

I leaned out from my hiding place and waved. Everyone grinned back at me. I scrambled down the cliff as fast as I could and ran across the sun-hot shale. My family, my folk! They’d all come back for me!

As they swam ashore, I ran from one to another, as light and free as if I were riding the crest of a foaming wave. I flung myself down to hug Grandmam, and we rolled on the warm pebbles. Lyr surfed up to land right at my feet, tossing his head as proudly as if he’d chased the man away all by himself.

I’d never loved my clan as much as I did at that moment. They gathered around me in a loose circle, wet pelts glistening in the sun, strong backs arching as if they were still guiding the boat from below.

“Did you see him?” cried Maura. “The look on his face!”

I jumped to my feet, searching for Mam. She was missing all the fun! There she was, still out in the cove, swimming in circles with her head underwater. I was about to shout when she dove and disappeared.

“If we hadn’t held the boat, he’d still be trying to reach it,” said Cormac. “Such skinny, useless arms!” He flapped his flippers around wildly to show what he meant. I was laughing so hard my stomach hurt.

But then his words echoed in my head. Skinny. Useless. I glanced down at my own arms.

Maura curved up into a crescent moon. “You think his arms were funny? What about those flailing legs?”

The laughter dimmed as I looked down at my knees. My ankles. At the only feet on the beach.

Lyr cleared his throat. “Now, Maura,” he said in a serious tone. “We all have legs in longlimbs.”

Everyone stilled, alert. Everyone, that is, except Maura.

“Oh, legs are lovely for dancing on land!” she went on blithely. “It’s not the legs themselves I mind. But everyone knows you need flippers and tail in the sea.”

She laughed, but no one laughed with her. Finally, realizing something had changed, she looked up to find everyone staring at her.

Then she did a terrible thing. She turned to stare at me.

Every head followed, swiveling as if they were pulled by the same string. Every eye was on me, and in those eyes, expressions I couldn’t read. What was going on? The laughter was truly gone now. Silence grew into a thick, cold fog.

Finally Maura snorted. “Oh, for goodness sake, Aran, don’t look so anxious. Of course I didn’t mean you.”

Everyone nodded. The tension started to lift.

“After all, you’re family. You’re one of us.” Maura smiled warmly. And then she added, “Even if your father wasn’t.”

Grandmam gasped.

At first I didn’t realize what Maura had said. But her words struck the clan like a stone thrown into still water. The ripples spread in a widening circle of stunned eyes and gaping mouths.

Even if your father wasn’t.

I’d never thought to ask who my father was. Selkies don’t care. Mates were a matter of a season, a journey, or a Moon Day gathering. But this must be different.

“What about my father?” I asked.

Everyone knew. I saw it on their faces.

“Well, now,” said Maura. “You see—”

“That’s for his mother to tell him,” said Lyr.

Maura’s mouth snapped shut.

“Mam’s swimming,” I said, my impatience growing like a bitter, tingling rash. “I want to know now.”

Lyr and Grandmam exchanged a glance.

Maura was my only hope. I looked her right in the eye. “You can tell me, Maura. Who was he?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” she said. “Your father was a man.”