by Maggie Marks
No sooner had he spoken than Mason heard someone cry out. Luna? Then he heard a grunt. And a growl.
Dusk had fallen, and brought with it a drowned.
CHAPTER 16
Asher raced from the room. But instead of running back down the hall, he ran up a set of stairs toward the deck of the ship.
“Wait!” Mason cried. He stood at the base of the stairs, still clutching the old yellow blanket.
Asher would be safe up above. But Luna? And the turtles? They were down below, in the sand. Mason ran down the hall, hoping to reach them in time.
As he raced out through the cracked hull, he tossed the old blanket onto the ground and reached for his trident. Even from a distance, he could see Luna was in trouble. She stood in front of the pen surrounding the turtle eggs, but she held no weapon. What had she done with her trident?
Mason spotted the weapon resting against a rock on the beach, way too far away.
The drowned was closing in, staggering through the sand in its tattered brown robes. Mason thought fast, and did the only thing he could do. He raised his trident and threw it with all his might. But the trident missed its mark! It soared over the drowned and landed with a splash in the water.
No! Mason sprinted toward Luna, hoping to reach her in time. But he couldn’t move fast enough in the slippery sand.
Then something whizzed through the air overhead. Thwack! The drowned dropped backward with a groan.
Mason glanced up just in time to see Asher step back from the deck rail with Uncle Bart’s old bow. Then he disappeared. Yes! Mason thought, pumping his fist. But he kept running. The drowned was down, but not for long.
By the time Mason reached Luna’s side, she had grabbed her own weapon. With a whack of her trident, she finished off the drowned. It left a pile of rotten flesh in its wake.
As Mason kicked sand over the top of the putrid flesh, he glanced over his shoulder, looking for Asher. His brother was hurrying out of the hull, suddenly looking very small with his large wooden bow. Asher’s eyebrows were knit together with worry.
“What’s wrong?” Mason asked. “Luna’s okay, and the eggs are, too.”
Asher shrugged. “I didn’t count to ten. Maybe I shouldn’t have fought. I might have hurt Luna with my arrow.”
“No!” said Mason, throwing his arm around Asher’s shoulder. “You did well. It’s okay to fight to protect something you care about.”
Asher’s eyes drifted toward the fenced-in pen. “Like the turtle eggs?”
Mason smiled, remembering a time when Asher hadn’t cared about the turtles at all—when he had wished they were dolphins instead. “Like the turtle eggs,” he repeated.
“And me!” said Luna, elbowing Asher’s arm. “You were protecting me too, right?”
He grinned and nodded.
Luna pointed toward the bow in Asher’s hands. “Where did you find that?” she asked.
As Asher told her about the weathered old bow, Mason suddenly remembered the blanket he had found. He raced around the ship and gathered the blanket from the ground, shaking off the sand and folding it neatly.
Then he hurried back to the beach and handed it to Asher. “This was yours,” Mason said. “Mom dyed it yellow with dye made from sunflowers. Do you remember it now?”
Asher reached for the blanket. He unfolded it and studied the woven pattern. Then he bunched it up and rubbed the soft wool against his cheek. Slowly, he nodded. “I think so,” he said, his voice sounding far away.
Mason fought the urge to cheer. He glanced at Luna, and was surprised to see her face fall. She looked as if she’d just lost her best friend.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
She turned away. “You’re going back to the sunflower plains someday, aren’t you?” she asked. “You and Asher.”
When her voice wobbled, Mason suddenly understood. That’s why she was so weird about me going to the sunflower plains, he realized. She’s afraid Asher and I are going to move away!
He stepped around Luna so she could see his face. “No,” he said. “Our home isn’t there anymore. We’re staying with you, Luna.”
Her eyes flickered upward and met his. She smiled.
Crack!
Luna sucked in her breath and dropped to her knees. She crawled closer to the turtle eggs, peering beneath the wooden slats of the pen. “It’s happening,” she whispered. “Get over here. It’s happening!”
Mason squatted beside her, making room for Asher to squeeze in between. As they fell into silence, Mason heard another crack. And then another.
Fine brown lines began to appear on the turtle eggs. Finally, one broke open.
The turtle that crawled out was so tiny! Mason was dying to reach down and scoop it into his hands, but he knew better. “Don’t touch it,” he whispered to Asher.
“I know that!” said Asher. “Look—another one is hatching!”
Soon, the tiny turtles were roaming out of the pen, searching for water. “Stand back,” said Luna. “Let’s show them the way.”
She pulled sea grass from her pocket, but instead of holding it out to the turtles, she offered it to Mason.
She might as well have handed him golden treasure. He took the sea grass carefully, hoping not to drop a single blade, and then crouched before the turtles. He waved the grass gently, getting their attention. One by one, the tiny turtles began to follow.
“They’re so small!” exclaimed Asher. “But I bet their shells are super strong.”
“That’s right,” said Luna. “They’re stronger than they look. They’ll get where they’re going, slowly but surely.”
Asher rolled up his yellow blanket and laid it in the sand, creating a wall of safety so that none of the turtles would wander off and get lost.
As the first turtle reached the water, Mason sat back. The turtle wiggled through the wet sand until the tide rolled in, taking the turtle back out with it. “Be free, little buddy,” Mason waved goodbye.
“It’ll come back,” said Asher. “When it’s grown up and ready to lay eggs. Then it’ll come home.”
Mason nodded.
Home. This time, instead of picturing the sunflower plains, he pictured the underwater village where he and Asher lived with Luna. And Ms. Beacon, he reminded himself, picturing the warm smile she had given him right here on this beach.
As Asher adjusted his blanket, guiding the turtles along a straight path, Mason imagined how the sunflower-yellow blanket would look spread out on Asher’s bed. And he smiled.
We can’t go back to our first home, like the turtles do, he decided. But we can bring a piece of it to our new house.
As the last turtle reached the water, Mason turned toward Asher.
“It’s our turn,” he said to his brother. “Let’s go home.”
