“I still don’t know how we’re going to get across,” murmured Cartwright in Sophie’s ear. “I mean, I feel bad for stamping on them now. It’s almost like they have personalities.”
“Just do it,” she said. “I think everything will work itself out.”
They cantered toward the sea, and Manic, happy to be free again, started to gallop. Sophie clung to the reins for dear life as they hurtled toward the gray ocean and the clouds curdling on the horizon. They were about to ride into a tempest.
They hit the water, but before Manic could go any farther a crab the size of a flattened bed heaved itself from the bottom of the sea and brought them flying up to the surface. Things lined up in front of them, jellyfish and more crabs and a small flat whale, and Manic hurtled from one to the other, bewildered by their cooperation.
The wind hit them in their faces, making their lips turn blue and their cheeks sting. But Sophie had never felt more at home.
“I know what I’m going to do,” she yelled over the sound of the churning sea. The dark sky gathered above them like a pool of ink as they flew over the surf. “I’m going to travel, and I’ll take my monsters to the ends of the earth with me. I can cure Sea Fever. I can show anyone who listens that the creatures are just animals, and the sea is their home. I’ll show everybody that the water is just another place, and write everything down, and tell the stories over and over so nobody forgets. Maybe I’ll even find a real new continent. There must be one out there, somewhere, in all that water.” She gave Cartwright a sidelong glance. “You can come with me, if you want.”
“You wouldn’t last a minute without me anyway,” he scoffed, then yelped as something nipped his foot.
“If you get annoying, they have my full permission to eat you.”
And then something huge and black reared from the waves, reaching out to them with a forest of arms and pulling them down into the sea.
A moment of ice and utter darkness. A terrifying pang of doubt. Then they broke the surface again, twined in the thick, blubbery arms of a monster, which held them aloft as they sailed into the heart of the storm.
Acknowledgments
My endless thanks go to all the people who helped turn The Bone Snatcher from a crazy story swimming around my head to a Real Life Book that you can hold, smell, and prop the door open with (unless you have the electronic version—but still).
First of all, to my agent, Kirsty McLachlan, who saw tentacles waving through a sea of manuscripts and decided to give Sophie a go—and has pretty much organized every aspect of my writing life since. Also to the great team at Rights People, including Allison Hellegers, for all their help in placing the book.
Secondly, to the team at Dial Books for Young Readers; particularly to Stacey Friedberg, a wonderful editor who tirelessly worked to make the story everything it is today, and who made the whole (sometimes terrifying) thing a lot easier.
I am also grateful to the Comyn People—namely Eric Baron, Richard O’Halloran, and Tom Stewart—for reading the first few chapters over and over, and giving me more great ideas, and cups of tea, than I could have managed alone.
Thanks also to Emil Rybczak, for generally keeping me alive while I write, and for not playing the piano as loudly as he could.
And last, but certainly not least, to all the friends, family, and teachers who have encouraged me to keep going, given me invaluable help and advice, and invested their time and effort in guiding me. You know who you are, and you’re all my heroes.
Charlotte Salter lives in England, and has a Master’s in Writing. The Bone Snatcher is her debut book. Like her protagonist, Charlotte loves to tell stories and create dark, fantastical worlds. Learn more at https://charlotte-salter.com or follow Charlotte online @CeSalter.
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