That tail could split her boat in two if it slammed down on her hull.
His jaws could snap her mast if she sailed too close.
There was enough space in the passageway that she could, if she was careful, make it past him by sailing just out of reach—if she timed it exactly right.
He met her eyes as she sailed closer.
Such blue eyes, as deep a blue as the ocean when the moon shone on it.
She knew what he saw: a wooden boat with silver sails that he could crush if he could reach it, piloted by a fragile human with silvery skin that matched her sails and white-and-black-striped hair tied back with a silver ribbon. She must look to him like salvation. Or lunch.
“Ahh, Marin,” Marin said, “this is a truly terrible idea.”
Because she could see: he was pinned between the rocks. If someone—someone like, say, me—were to lift just one segment of his middle up over the rocks, he should be able to leverage himself out and back into the water.
There was only a split second to decide: sail around the sea serpent… or toward him.
It wasn’t a decision.
He was trapped; she could free him.
Probably. Maybe. If she was lucky. And quick. Very, very quick.
Marin aimed for him. She locked the lines in place and ran across her boat onto the bow. She didn’t stop when she reached thetip—she leaped off and landed, hard, on the rocks. She hissed as she scraped her knee.
“Donoteat me,” Marin ordered the sea serpent. “Calm. Stay calm. You want to hear a story?” Panting, she scrambled up onto the rock. “How about my first delivery job? It was to an island that was inhabited only by a lighthouse keeper and a flock of feral gryphons. Except I didn’t know about the gryphons…” It wasn’t precisely a true story—the flock hadn’t chased her onSilverand she hadn’t tossed them fish until they were distracted enough that she could escape, but that was what she would have done if the gryphons hadn’t been asleep. She kept her voice soothing as she talked.
Behind her,Silvercontinued to sail forward on the heading she’d set, toward the cliff rocks. She braced herself and shoved both hands under the shimmering scales of the sea serpent. He sang at her, a querulous note as clear as the ring of crystal.
Marin hefted the segment of the serpent up. She could only lift him a few inches—he was enormous; she couldn’t wrap her arms around him—but it was enough! He flipped his sinewy body upward, and she didn’t hesitate—the second he moved, she ran and leaped off the rocks and onto her boat. She ran across the prow and hurled herself at the helm. Spinning the wheel, Marin unclamped the lines and tacked as hard and fast as she could.
Silverscreamed as its side scratched against the rocks. She winced at the sound.Please, no holes.The silver sails luffed, and then the wind caught. The sailboat sped forward, away from the rocks and toward the center of the gap. Her heart raced as fast as a hummingbird’s, and she realized her hands were shaking. She gripped the lines harder, and she looked behind her.
Marin watched the sea serpent slide into the water, free of the rocks. “Yay,” she said weakly, and she collapsed backward to breathe, just for a second because she still needed to focus on sailing her way out of the Painted Pass.
She concentrated on catching the wind and steering clear of the cliffs. Ahead, it became even more narrow. The wind howled as itswept her forward. She had no choice but to keepSilverin a close reach, with the sails as tight as possible before each change in direction, which made her speed increase—
A swell lifted her sailboat into the air. She lost focus for an instant, and the sails luffed as her boat headed into the wind. “No!” She yanked as hard as she could on the mainsheet as she turned the wheel, fighting to reestablish control.
And the swell of water beneath her propelled her forward through the gap. She looked back to see the feathered tail of the serpent behind the aft of her sailboat.
It was the sea serpent beneath her, carrying her.
In seconds, she spurted out the other side of the passage—out into the open sea.
The swell diminished.
Marin caught the wind again. She let out a yell of triumph.
Beside her, the sea serpent trumpeted back. He dove through the waves like a dolphin breaching, and his iridescent scales glistened in the sun. Back in the water, his wounds were washed clean, and she could see they hadn’t been deep—scrapes from his attempts to free himself from the rocks. Not much worse than her knee.
“You’re welcome,” she called, “and thank you!”
She had no idea how intelligent sea serpents were, but the ride out from between the cliffs had to have been intentional. She’d saved him, so he returned the favor.
“We’re even now!” Marin waved to him.
He propelled himself out of the water and arched in the air like a rainbow, before diving back between the waves. It was such a magnificent sight that she forgot to breathe, only remembering when his tail disappeared beneath the surface of the sea.
