The sea has its own language. The water breathes with its currents, exhales in swishes and clicks, spews forth moans and grunts. Sometimes the sounds coalesce into something recognizable, but just as quickly, it fades into unrelated background noise.
I listen anyway, wondering if this will be the tenth tongue I master
Tallest bridge in the city, midday, alone. My gizzard grumbles. Should I have eaten? Nah, waste of food.
I approach the suspension tower’s edge and glance down, my talons gripping the rim. If I’m not careful, my wings might flare open and ruin my plans. I unclip my messenger bag and retrieve the rope.
The engine in my mecha whined as its knees strained, taking the last step onto the icy rise. In the grand view of cold white horizons, the Aurora shimmered vivid green overhead. Despite unceasing mortal peril, the endless ice had her consolations.
None of which made it worth it to me.
Pushing off the embankment, I crouch low in the hollow craft, hoping the reeds cover my retreat. I shift the bundle in my arms, all the while my heart thumps in my ears.
I’d built this boat with a single purpose. To escape. Taking something with me wasn’t part of the plan.
“Ready when you are, Cap’n Muldoon.”
My first mate O’Hara squints expectantly through his good eye, the other covered with a black patch. The crew of the Muirgen clusters behind him, waiting for my signal.
Our target, the whaling ship Pawtuxet, flounders on the choppy gray sea, her mast shattered by a well-placed
Ring. Ring. Ri—
“Hello?”
“Hello, this is the West Coast Marine Mammal Rescue. How can I help you?”
“Oh, thank goodness! I found this baby sea turtle caught in some netting on the beach. He got injured. I think he is rather hurt.”
“Thank you for calling us. You did the right thing.
The sun had risen, but the sea hadn’t noticed. I slid off my hydro-scooter into the kelp-filled ocean. “Yikes,” I bit out, every movement driving fresh stabs of ice across my limbs.
A dozen feet away, a round head bobbed above the surface. “Miki?” My sister’s sea otter swam closer. “I don’t need
“What we have here is a mystery, my friends.” Ten-year-old Ana addressed the row of stuffed animals—and one real girl—that sat at attention.
The girl raised her hand, and Ana swallowed a sigh. “Yes, Mabel?”
“This is just a pretend mystery, right?”
Ana loved her cousin dearly, but, by Shakespeare’s pen,
Diving for corpses was not Belyan’s ideal profession, but someone had to do it. She shivered as cold, merciless currents swept past, dragging snarls of seaweed and chipped clamshells along with them.
Before her, two gleaming shapes curled through the water, light glowing from their sleek bodies. The presence of Ursu and Laur
1000 meters out.
The clipper cut smoothly, silently, through the water—leaving not a ripple on the surface. Inside its shabby cabin, the captain sat still and focused, his energies on maintaining course for the destination ahead. Although confident outside, his thoughts raced and tumbled with every crashing wave. He hesitated to approach
Waves lapped against the ship’s hull as we eased as close to the island’s rocky coast as we dared. Even with a full moon, I couldn’t see any of the island’s inhabitants—but I could hear them.
“It’s so beautiful,” someone sighed.
Swinging around, I found a sailor walking in a trance
John sighed contentedly as he sat down on his favorite bench at the very end of the pier, as far from the bustling high-street as he could get. It was 3:00 in the afternoon, a cold wind blew hard off the bay, and there wasn’t a single soul in sight—just the way
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