Below me, a cliff dropped down to a cove sheltered by curving arms of rock. Gaps in the rock opened to glimpses of whitecaps on the other side. A flat-topped boulder stood alone in the center of the beach, as grand as a great chief’s throne. It would be a good place to make stone pictures.
I found a crevice just wide enough to brace myself, and I shimmied down. It squeezed to an end, and I grabbed handholds until I could jump to the ground.
In the rattling surf, I found the roundest, smoothest stones. Then I hauled myself up the chest-high boulder and sat on top, arranging them in a rising curve. It became a bold spiral—white stones, then black, then blood red. At the end the doubloons blazed like a comet’s fiery tail.
But the center was empty. It needed something else.
I waded back into the surf and a shell tumbled across my feet—a moon snail, round and swirling like my picture. Perfect. As I carried it back, I scooped a finger inside, hoping for a snack. Instead, a flash of green fell into my palm. It was hard, like a stone, but it carried light like a wave. I held it to my eye and gasped. I could see right through!
Back atop the throne, I set the shell in the shining spiral. Then I sat gazing at the world through my new treasure. The shore, the sky, the cliff—everything was a hazy, underwater green. The stone turned land into ocean. Magic! If only I had someone to show it to.
The gull shrieked, “Look!”
It was peering out through a gap low in the rock wall. I didn’t see anything but waves. Then came a strange kind of splashing, like no beast or bird I’d ever heard before. It neared the gap, growing louder, and louder.
A gigantic red beak swam into view.
Another splash and the creature surged forward. A curved belly filled the gap, blocking out the sea. It was as big as a full-grown orca.
But that wasn’t whale skin. It was wood.
Chapter Seven
Alone
A boat. And not just a speck in the distance like I’d seen before. I stared, spellbound.
A flat, wooden flipper dug into the water. Clutching the top was a hand. A human hand. It had to be. But the skin turned orange at the wrist. I leaned forward, straining to see through the gap. The boat splashed ahead, leaving only a swirl of foam—
And then the water exploded in front of me.
I leaped to my feet, my heart pounding, as a shape surged toward me in a blur of spray—Grandmam!
“Run!” she barked, her eyes blazing.
I startled to my senses. The boat was heading toward the point. Soon the human would round the rocks. He’d see the cove. The boulder. Me.
I leaped off the boulder. The instant I hit the ground, I was racing for the cliff.
Another splash: louder, closer. I glanced back over my shoulder—and skidded to a stop. On top of the rock, the sun flared off the doubloons in a spiral of blinding gold.
I swerved back. Grandmam was at my heels, snarling and butting. The gull shrieked in alarm.
“He’ll see it!” I hissed. “He’ll know I’m here.”
Grandmam followed my eyes. Her head reared up. “I’ll do it. Go.”
I sprinted to the cliff and scrambled up to the crevice, pressing back into the shadows.
A splash, a swirl, and into the cove swam the blood-red boat. A sharp beak. A broad belly. At the back, a straight line, like its tail was chopped off.
Was it a boat like this that killed Riona’s chief?
It swam through the breakers. The man’s back was toward me. On his arms and upper body, orange flesh hung loose and saggy, like an elephant seal’s. It wrinkled as he dug in the flippers. Now he swiveled his head toward shore. His hair was hacked short. Dark-brown fur sprouted from his cheeks and chin.
My stomach churned. I’d thought humans looked like selkies in longlimbs. Not like . . . this.
The boat slid ashore. Rocks scraped its belly like teeth on bone.
A flash of movement caught my eye. Grandmam was hauling herself up the side of the boulder. It was so steep, she almost stood on her tail. With a grunt of effort, she crested the top and slapped down, her flipper shoving the swirl of gold and stones into a cleft.
The man climbed out of the boat. His feet were black and swollen. Or—or was something covering them, like part of a pelt? Was the saggy skin an extra layer, too? It fit so badly, it must weigh him down. Why would he wear it?
Maybe there was something wrong with his own skin.
He grabbed the boat’s beak and jerked it higher ashore. He looped a cord around a log, tugging it tight. Then he turned and looked at Grandmam.
She glared back, swinging her head from side to side. He started walking toward her.
With a shove of her flippers, she slid off the rock, landing in a crash of pebbles. Now she’d attack to keep him from finding me. She’d drive him off, like the time she chased a walrus away. I leaned forward, eager for those slashing claws and bared teeth, that ferocious growl.
But Grandmam was scooting away from him. Away from me. She was rushing into the waves.
A swirl of foam and she disappeared.
I was alone.
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 undernea
th, 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.”
Chapter Nine
The Knife
I ran inland so they wouldn’t follow, my eyes stinging, the world a blur. On the far side of the island, I stumbled down to a lonely patch of shore. I threw myself onto the rocks and buried my head on my knees, clenched in a tight ball, as if I could suck my limbs into my body and make them disappear.
My father was a man.
They’d known, every one of them. They’d known for as long as I’d been alive.
How could I have been so stupid? Blindly believing Mam—“Any day now, Aran”—without once asking why I was different, why I was so late to turn.
My father was a man. What did that make me?
I heard someone splashing up from the waves. Drops of water fell on my back. I smelled Mam’s pelt, and seaweed, and a scent I didn’t recognize: a harsh, mineral tang. Then something clattered down on the pebbles beside me and I opened my eyes.
It was the silver tooth. The one the man had used.
A red drop fell on the blade. I looked up at Mam. Her mouth was bleeding at the sides where she’d carried it. The red lines ran down her fur, a brutal decoration.
“It’s a knife,” she said, smiling.
Knife. I reached out a finger and ran it along the surface.
Mam said, “Careful of the—”
Too late. With a gasp I held up my finger. The thinnest red line traced the tip.
Mam’s voice was still happy. “It was hiding in a clump of seaweed. That’s why it took me so long to find. When I was swimming back, I saw you heading off to explore. I had to circle the island twice to find you.” She nudged the knife with a flipper. “It’s made of steel.”
Part of it wasn’t shiny. It was black and rounded where the man had held it. I hesitated, as if the knife might bite me again, and then wrapped my fingers around the black.
“He dropped it when he climbed in his boat,” she said. “Now it’s for you.”
For me. She’d brought it back for me. A man’s tool. For a—
“I don’t want it,” I said, dropping the knife back down on the pebbles.
“Don’t worry. Once you learn its ways, it won’t cut you again.”
I crossed my arms over my chest.
“I’ll teach you how to use it,” she went on. Her smile was gruesome with its red edges. I looked away.
“Don’t you see, Aran? You can cut oysters from the rocks and pry their shells open. You can lash it to a stick and catch fish after fish.”
“I already catch fish,” I mumbled. But it wasn’t fish I was picturing. It was the man’s fingers holding the knife. I shoved my hands deeper into my armpits.
“You’re a wonderful hunter,” said Mam. “But now you can catch bigger prey and slice off their heads and peel back their . . .”
I couldn’t hear her anymore. The anger was rising in my throat. She’d lied to me. She was still lying, pretending nothing was wrong.
Mam’s voice came from far away. “Aran, what is it?”
And then my hands were fists and my head flew up. “I’m not like him!” I shouted.
Mam looked at me oddly. “That man? Of course not.” She placed a soothing flipper on my knee.
I shoved her away. “
No! My father. I’m not like him.”
She jerked back as if I’d hit her.
At the water’s edge, a loon cried, sad and bitter. I already wished my words unsaid. What had I let loose in the world? I should have joked along with Maura. I should have pretended it didn’t matter.
It was too late for that now. Very slowly, Mam nodded.
“It’s time you knew,” she said.
Chapter Ten
Like All the Rest
Mam stared out across the waves. I could feel the story starting to gather, like the sky darkening with a coming storm. When she spoke again, her voice was different and strange.
“There are those who say longlimbs is only for special rites. They say, in this day of boats and planes, we can’t risk being discovered. But I always loved longlimbs. When I was younger I’d sneak away, slip off my pelt, and spend hours dancing. One night I fell asleep on shore in a tangle of seaweed. Then I sensed someone watching and my eyes flew open. It was a man. I’d never seen anyone so handsome.”
“Did you run?” I asked. Because everyone knows that’s what you’re supposed to do in that situation: grab your pelt and run, or swim away if you can.
She shook her head. “The night was silver with moonglow. I wasn’t afraid.”
“Was his face furry?”
“No, it was smooth. The hair on his head was as golden as the sun.”
I hugged my knees into my chest. “Did he have . . . skinny arms?”
“Skinny? They were so strong, the sight of them made me catch my breath.” Her flipper traced a circle on the stones. “He insisted on putting his coat around me and we talked until the Moon sank low. Once he left I pulled my pelt from its hiding place and swam home, thinking I’d never see him again. But the next night I went back and there he was. And the next night, and the next.
“Before long we were swimming together. I didn’t even hide my pelt away. When I was with him, I only wanted to be in longlimbs. Each night I stayed longer. And then one morning I didn’t leave.
“He built us what they call a house, like a cave made of wood. Each day he went off fishing in his boat, and each night he came home to me. He built a wooden chest and I set my pelt inside. Now and again he’d ask me to change and we’d swim together, selkie and man, but as time went on, my pelt just stayed in the chest.”
The Turning Page 3
