Chapter Twenty-Nine

Kwi Coast…and the Sea

A month passed. One quiet morning, with the sun golden and bright overhead, Piper rose for her usual hunt. The sea was pale and green, perfect for her early activities. The rest of Kwi Coast was still asleep, as it was too early for them to be up and about.

She did not frolic these days. Once she caught her morning meal, she spent the next couple of hours cruising the old boundaries, ever in hope for signs of her brother. QuickFin had not turned up in the rescue, and Piper was grief-stricken by it. She hoped he had been dead before he hit the water and was therefore spared the agony of the Snag-Tooth’s jaws. But deep inside she also wanted to believe that somehow he’d survived it all, though she knew it wasn’t likely. So she brooded often.

Permanent scars had been left on her—the ghastly slaughter of over half her Clan, the humiliating demise of Thane SilverFlukes, and the tragic lamentations of old RamStrong at the end. But comfort had also come…in the form of knowing Buffer had sought out the Harbor Waifs, day after day, all that time the Commodore had wondered where he’d been spending his time.

“I believed you from the time you came back, Piper,” the burly youngster had admitted, days after the Massacre. “Anyone who survived the Hundred Dawns deserved more respect than you were given.”

“Was that all of it?” Piper had asked with a flutter of her fins.

“Well, perhaps not,” he added, twirling his beak slightly. “And you know I’ve always been sort of miffed about how the Commodore never used to give me the kind of praise, well…that he gave to…um, others,” he said awkwardly, knowing Piper politely ignored his blunder. Then he added quietly, “You see, not being in the old Commodore’s favor gave me a chance to drift back a little and see what was really going on, Piper. I didn’t care anymore if I broke his rules.”

Buffer urged her to the surface for an air break and then continued. “But when you returned, he saw you as a threat to everything he’d ever believed in, Piper. You lived through what no Whistler had ever survived. The Commodore just couldn’t accept that. I’m not saying he deliberately always tried to make you look bad. He was just, well…scared. And he didn’t know what to do about it because it had never happened before. Then you came up with an even worse danger than the Snag-Tooth! You know, sometimes I think Commodore RamStrong may have even secretly wondered if you were right.”

Piper had pondered that, knowing such a notion had never entered her own thoughts.

“Still, after seeing what the Furies are really like, can you blame him for being the way he was? Old RamStrong was so tormented by his own past that everything happening to him—everything in the entire sea—was affected by it. Your return and your story about the Killer Imps shook him so much, Piper, that in his own haunted mind he probably felt the Pod was doomed as long as you were around to bump us all off course.”

“I know that now, Buffer,” she had cried softly. “Oh, you should have seen him at the end.”

“I’m glad I didn’t, Piper.”

Buffer had been uncomfortable and feeling quite awkward that day as he’d explained to her his reasoning for the ruse that had duped everyone in the Clan. The two of them were cruising the afternoon sea near the BreakWaters, blowing out plumes of gray vapor as they “porpoised” gently in the rolling surf, he helping her carefully along. It had been only a few days after the Killer Imp Tragedy, and Piper was still feeling weak.

“You do realize, Piper, I had no choice but to say what I did when the Commodore caught me fighting that Snag-Tooth. It could not have been helped. You see, he wasn’t entirely wrong about them, and if I’d told Thane SilverFlukes and him that I was out there waiting for a Harbor Waif to let me know if she’d found your friend the GhostFin, you can imagine what they both would have done.”

“Oh, Buffer, you beautiful oaf,” Piper had said affectionately. “Of course I realize that. SlugFlukes and LoFin told me all about it. And I’m very proud of you.” She nuzzled him gently with her beak. “Why, if you’d not believed me in the first place, we’d all be dead now.”

Piper thought back to those moments with Buffer. More and more she had come to admire him. He was the one member of the Pod she always looked forward to seeing now. He was so changed, so…grown. So poised. Buffer had never seemed poised before. Of course his swagger was still there, and he was as haughty as ever. Then again, it wouldn’t be Buffer if he were any other way. Some things never change, she thought, and maybe that was just as well.

****

Buffer had come upon LoFin during one of his unauthorized excursions into the Open Sea. The gregarious porpoise band had at first been leery of the bristling young bull—until they realized he was a friend of the white female who had been banished. Buffer had conversed with the chatty LoFin longer than expected. He’d marveled at the Waif’s ability to talk, and from her he learned of a great GhostFin slowly plodding its way across the Open Sea toward the Northeast Waters. And knowing also that he was likely in danger of having been followed by RamStrong’s sentries, Buffer hurriedly told the astonished porpoises all that had happened at Kwi Coast since their hasty flight from there over five months earlier.

Buffer and LoFin had then agreed to remain in contact with one another, the Rovers promising they would seek out the GhostFin and tell him of Piper’s safe return home—and of all that happened after it.

For over a week, Buffer had scouted the OutZones and the Open Sea as often as he’d dared. At times he’d had to ward off the advances of curious sharks that had attacked sporadically. And always he had waited to detect sonic messages from LoFin.

It was shortly after Buffer’s covert excursions had been discovered by the Pod that LoFin began seeking him out. The porpoises had finally made contact with the GhostFin who was now sloughing his way steadily toward the gray whale southern breeding waters. And the porpoises bore tidings of a dark Floater bearing down on Kwi Coast, which SlugFlukes had recognized as soon as they’d described it. But Buffer, under the constant watch of Pod sentries, had not dared venture anywhere near the OutZones till the fervor over his lone skirmishes died down. And not hearing at all from Buffer, all that SlugFlukes and LoFin could hope for was that time would not run out on them.

Unfortunately, SlugFlukes was every bit as slow as his name indicated, and the small band of Rovers did not dare approach the hostile Whistler Clan on their own. So they hurried SlugFlukes along as fast as they could…but it was too late.

The unexpected school of mackerel, though, had been a stroke of fortune, even if it did give the Killer Imps a chance to bait their trap. For the scavenging sharks that had happened by and drawn an attack from the excitable Pod had given Buffer and his small band a chance to break away. His followers, of course, had had no idea of their leader’s intent. As far as they knew, they were off to rout more of the Snag-Tooth. And though Buffer did not know exactly how he was going to explain to them that they were really enroute to rendezvous with a pack of Harbor Waifs, he never did have to explain it. What they saw after the Pod headed back to Kwi Coast had spared him the need for it.

A few sharks had lagged behind, and Buffer had commanded his group to scatter them off. It was the break he’d needed. He knew the three trained Fighters could handle the young Sanders easily enough, and it would also give him a chance to slip away and search for LoFin. Then he might return later and say he had merely been chasing a lone straggler. But just as he’d prepared to sneak away, Buffer noticed, as Piper had earlier, that the Humunz aboard the Floater had been watching carefully all that the Whistlers had been doing during their fight with the Snag-Tooth.

Buffer waited. There had been something bizarre—something of menace—about these Land Dwellers, and it had made him leery. He had hoped Piper might indeed have been overreacting, but now he was no longer sure. Meanwhile, LightFin, Squeaker, and LongFlukes easily drove off the struggling sand tigers and then rejoined their leader as he spied on the Floater.

What they saw next had sickened them.

A few more Snag-Tooth had strayed by the Floater, despite the presence of Buffer and his Fighters. And the poachers onboard were tossing out bloody chunks of flesh to the sharks. All four dolphins were aghast at what was being cast overboard: severed strips of dead Whistlers.

If there had ever been need of proof that the garbed figures aboard the Floater were indeed Evil Hunters who preyed on the WhistlingFin, Buffer and his band of followers had found it then and there. Worse, it seemed as if these sly Humunz had somehow also befriended the Snag-Tooth!

It wasn’t until days after the Slaughter—after hearing Piper’s full account of what had taken place—that Buffer concluded how the Killer Imps had cunningly tossed the torn Whistler carcasses into the sea…so the Snag-Tooth would gnaw at them and be blamed for what would appear to be “Fury killings.”

Witnessing the dolphins’ attack on the sharks had given the poachers the idea of luring the strange pod into a trap—using the recorded sounds of an approaching shark-frenzy as bait. And when Buffer and the other three had sped off in a frantic search for LoFin, they had never supposed the Pod would mistake the bloody Whistler carcasses for the four of them, else they might not have gone.

Still, Buffer knew that neither the Thane nor the Commodore would have believed him anyway. The only real proof had been in the hope that LoFin was nearby and had found the wise old GhostFin. That most surely would have eliminated all doubts.

The tiny group of dolphins had finally picked up the report of the porpoise pod—and the gruff cry of the old whale. The eerie sight of the gray giant had at first frightened Buffer and the other three. Seeing the GhostFin for the very first time, Buffer had been awestruck by its sheer size and had marveled once again at Piper’s courage.

SlugFlukes, meanwhile, had worried himself fitfully. And after hearing about the Imps’ Floater, he had scorned himself. “Ah, what a decrepit old fool am I! I should have known,” he told LoFin sourly. “Let a billion toothy barnacles infest my skin if any harm comes to that gentle creature,” he’d moaned.

It was as if a cold harpoon had struck him, for his worst fears had come to pass. SlugFlukes knew he would never forgive himself if Piper died because her Pod had refused to heed her tale. Here was this wonderful little SongFin who had saved him from being a feast for the HunterKin, and all he had done in return was frighten her with a grotesque display by the Killer Imps. He could have listened to her pleas to go back with her and help warn her beloved Pod of the danger that stalked them. He knew she was not the sort of creature to leave them all to such an ugly fate, in spite of what they had done to her. Yes, he had known this was the way of those who refused to listen to truths they did not want to believe.

But there was still time, he had thought, for here was the bold and brash Buffer she’d spoken of so fondly. SlugFlukes had seen right away what Piper liked about the young bull. His courage was very much like hers. And so the guilt-ridden old giant had hoped there was yet time enough to avert disaster.

It had been near dawn when they’d all finally met. The odd party of dolphins, porpoises, and gray whale had hurried as best they could—allowing for the GhostFin’s plodding pace—and when finally they drew within range of Kwi Coast, the air and sea carried the sad cries of the stricken Pod members. They also heard the high-pitched yipping of the triumphant Killer Imps—and that had turned the approaching rescue party’s horror to rage.

A plan had been laid out. SlugFlukes would unleash his might upon the Floater, while Buffer and LoFin commanded the rest in an elaborate rescue of the living Whistlers as they spilled over the sides of the sinking wreck. SlugFlukes had guaranteed the Floater would sink, and that once the Killer Imps on it tumbled overboard—with no other Floaters in sight—they would panic. And he emphasized the need for haste in the rescue, for he had also guaranteed the emergence of the Snag-Tooth, en masse.

The old whale, as usual, had been right.

****

Piper was relieved that SlugFlukes had remained at Kwi Coast following the tragic events. Like Buffer, the gray elder had brought her moments of comfort, often scolding her whenever she tried pushing her injured limbs beyond their limits. And always she looked forward to chatting with LoFin, who, at times, managed to cheer the young Whistler with her usual Waif humor and wit, and her endless banter about anything and everything. What a dear friend the Pod had missed out on in LoFin…and in her fellow Rovers, thought Piper. So much they seemed like the WhistlingFin…

Most of the time, though, it was Buffer’s company that Piper sought. The cocky young bull had grown in both size and stature, and she made no secret now of the strong attraction she felt for him. In time, he would reach the size of the late Thane. But that was not all. Piper had noticed a more gentle air about Buffer, a tenderness that had gone unnoticed before. She thought it made him more appealing.

What was left of the Pod, as well, had developed a new respect for Buffer. The wisdom he displayed in plotting their rescue had been the salvation of the Clan. Against everyone’s doubts, Buffer was the only one who had never questioned Piper’s sanity. He had indeed believed her from the start. Had he not, all that LoFin and SlugFlukes would have found would have been the remains of whatever the Snag-Tooth left, every bit as gruesome as SlugFlukes and Piper had both witnessed in that dark cove along the coast of Japan.

For now, though, Buffer cared only about being with Piper. He felt obligated to nurture her back to health, and to protect her. And unless she assured him that she was off to visit either SlugFlukes or LoFin, he stayed right by her side. It took a good deal to convince him that he could leave her alone during her early morning hunts, but with SlugFlukes’ persuasion, Buffer was convinced of Piper’s need for solitude, realizing finally it would be almost impossible for him to understand all that she had been through, or why there were times when she simply chose to avoid everyone else.

Despite the warm company of her friends, and the intimacies she shared with Buffer, Piper’s life was a void at times. Too many memories haunted her. Not a single veteran of the old Clan had survived the Imp Massacre. The oldest member of the Pod now was twelve seasons of age. She wondered what that would bring, and often she beset SlugFlukes with questions about it, over and over.

“If I had explained it differently, could I have saved the whole Pod, SlugFlukes? Wouldn’t my brother still be alive today?” Piper had asked so many times, but the old GhostFin remained ever patient.

Always, SlugFlukes would reply, as though having heard it for the first time, “Nothing would have changed their thinking, my little SongFin, as I’ve told you before. They were too set in their ways. Be thankful you saved as many as you did—and that you managed to convince at least your young friend Buffer. Things might have gone much worse if not for that.” Those words from the wise old GhostFin always comforted Piper, until the next time—and then they would go through it all again.

****

It was a bright morning, and Piper was on her way to the OutZone to visit with SlugFlukes again. The Pod was still in slumber, but when she cruised out there, she found the great gray whale also dozing. So she journeyed off to the BreakWaters instead, passing through the region where she had first met LoFin. She thought how tragically things might have gone had she never met the merry wayfarer that day so long ago. As she streaked through the green sea and toward the BreakWaters, Piper was careful not to soar in too close to the foaming swirl. Her strength was not completely back to normal, and she was not anxious to test it against the powerful tug of the thunderous surf.

The choppy zone was more at ease this calm morning, and Piper was able to zip in a bit farther than she had expected. Ever since that first meeting with LoFin, Piper had felt mesmerized by the wild swells she enjoyed riding—in place of the ones caused by the Floaters—on days when it was not so treacherous. She was sorely tempted to do so now but thought better of it. She knew if she were unable to break away at the last instant, she could fall prey to its tremendous grip and wind up either dashed to death on the nearby rocks or stranded somewhere on the sandy beach. So Piper resisted the urge to romp. Instead, she scanned the region for the porpoise band. It seemed they had already wakened and gone off on the hunt, for there was no sign of the Rovers anywhere.

Suddenly Piper picked up on the faint tremors of an odd rhythm, different from the pattern of the white breakers. It was a sort of flutter coming from farther away, somewhere in the OutZone. The sound had been blanked out earlier by the heavy roll of the BreakWater swells, but as she drifted away it came on much stronger, arousing her curiosity. The two light streaks on her brow pulsed fiercely as she echoed for the source of the noise. She beat her light flukes swiftly, zooming through the pale green that turned gradually to a deeper shade of blue as she came out near the Caverns of the Slithering Ones.

Soon it came in clearer.

The tiny distance scanners in the melon of her forehead reported the erratic thrashings of some creature, larger than herself, making its way toward Kwi Coast. The sounds of the neighboring BreakWaters still interfered, though, and Piper had difficulty homing in for an accurate sonic picture. All she made out was a rough notion of its size and that it was having difficulty swimming.

Then another signal came to her, strong and clear. There was no mistaking this one. Piper increased her pace, speeding toward the Open Sea until she came to within a hundred feet of a jutting mass of mossy rock fairly smothered in kelp. Many ominous-looking holes peppered the sides of the huge cliff, where vicious predatory eels lurked, including the dangerous morays. Near it, Piper discerned the shadowy form of the wounded creature she had first detected. It struggled toward her in a crippled flight from another creature that was barely fifty feet away.

Piper did not have time to draw a precise image of the wounded animal, for she recognized now its pursuer—a husky young bull shark streaking silently through the icy blue. At first the shark was only curious of the wounded creature, merely circling the lame animal and probing through the fine electrical impulses that lay beneath its toothy hide. Then abruptly the Snag-Tooth shook all over, sending its intended prey into a futile panicky flight. The shark broke from its circling pattern and roared down upon its victim, grazing the stricken creature with “tasters” that would inform it if its prey was edible. A gash appeared on the wounded animal’s soft hide—and the scent of blood, seeping into the burly shark’s nostrils, drew it instantly into a frenzied state.

With a throaty rasp, the Snag-Tooth curled back its lower jaw and attacked!

All happened in the few seconds in which Piper first spotted the young bull shark. But she had not bothered scanning and identifying its helpless victim—it was the Snag-Tooth she wanted.

For here was the cause of her Pod’s misery. Was it not the queer madness of these silent killers that had driven the Commodore so insane with hatred? Weren’t they the reason Thane SilverFlukes and QuickFin and all the others were now dead? Did they have to kill everything they found in the sea?

Yes! she thought in all her rage. The Snag-Tooth were to blame for it all—they were Evil, like the Killer Imps! “Go for the gills!” They would not stop until every living being in the sea fell before their Furies. “Go for the gills!” She hated them. She always had, she could see that now. “Go for the gills!” she heard the old Commodore’s voice commanding her—as though he had returned from the dead and now cried out for justice.

Piper heard a squeak of pain…and terror. It had come from the wounded creature. Now she knew this Snag-Tooth had to die. She attacked. And the Commodore’s gruff commands bellowed and echoed through her head as she charged: “The gills…it cannot swim or breathe once you strike it there…it will drown!” Piper drove in like a six-foot-long torpedo, startling the snarling bull shark that was at least a foot longer than she was. She forgot about her own wounds, which were not completely healed. She forgot her fears. Piper bore down on the dark Snag-Tooth with a charge that would have made old RamStrong bellow with pride. It was as strong a gill-thrust as he could have asked.

Too late, the Snag-Tooth wheeled around to meet her attack. In its frenzied state, the shark had not noticed Piper lurking nearby. Now, instead of an easy kill, the young bull shark was confronted by the assault of a fierce, white-finned Whistler that had roared down upon it with the ferocity of one of the HunterKin! A violent wave of tremors shook the Snag-Tooth’s body, as though it had been scooped up from the water in a net and rattled back and forth.

Piper felt the telling impact of her thrust. And for that split instant she reveled in the damage she knew she had wrought. She shrieked an eerie cry of triumph as she felt the Snag-Tooth’s innards crumble under the force of her blow. It was the first time in her life she had ever driven her beak into another living being—and the destructive force of its impact caused her to shudder.

The cluster of tiny remora fish and pilot fish that accompanied the Snag-Tooth—feeding on the always-available parasites and scraps on its thick hide—scuttled away upon the impact, unaccustomed to their master’s defeat. And the shark itself had had enough. It felt sick and now sought only to escape. Feebly it tried paddling away.

Meanwhile, the wounded animal Piper rescued had managed to struggle its way to the surface. It was badly in need of air and, not sure of its rescuer, did not want to remain about if it was merely going to wind up as a morsel for some other predator.

Piper, however, took no notice of that. She was spinning around in a cloud of foam, readying herself for another charge. This one would finish off her enemy. Then she beheld the lame shark struggling to steal away in its crippled flight—broken of its Fury and stripped of its pride, a beaten warrior, deserted even by its own jackal-like worshippers, the pilots and the remoras. For some reason it reminded her of the broken husk of Commodore RamStrong, so demeaned on board the Floater.

Abruptly, the angry voice in her head softened.

Piper saw the Snag-Tooth, once again, as nothing more than mysterious creatures that simply had their own ways…like any other sea dwellers. She let the shark go.

A feeble whimper from above the waves reminded Piper of the Snag-Tooth’s intended victim. She soared toward the surface to see what kind of creature she’d saved from death. And when she broke the waves, her heart nearly leaped out of her mouth with joy—and disbelief…

It was QuickFin.