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A tale as old as time.
So many innocent things will die if we keep destroying their world.
This is why I wish more culprits had to pay through the nose for their damage. For every charitable billionaire like Dad or Foster who try to leave a minimal environmental footprint, there are three more rich pricks willing to slash throats at any cost to fatten their accounts. Too often, those pricks have the government regulators in their pockets, too.
“Polar bears,” Shepherd prompts when I drift into silence.
“Right. Yes. So, just like them sea otters are a keystone species. They go after sea urchins, which eat kelp. Like, so much kelp. With otters keeping urchins in check, the kelp forests thrive. It’s all about balance.”
“Balance. That’s why I’m here stomping through this mud?” He looks down, grumbling as he rips his boot out of a tarry puddle where the tide must’ve swept in overnight.
I stifle a laugh.
“That’s where you stop getting dirty and work your magic. The drones can cover way more rough ground without us stumbling around, right? Think what it took to even get to this spot...”
“You have a point,” he agrees.
He stops and glances around the woodland, wiping his boot on a rock.
It’s quiet, but not dead silent.
Compared to the bustling city, sure. But if you listen, there’s so much going on—birds and bugs and even the occasional fish dipping out of the water.
It makes me feel so alive and I’ll love the natural rhythm forever.
“Don’t get too excited,” I warn. “There’s no guarantee we’ll see any, no matter how good your metal bugs are.”
“These 'bugs' were a thirty-million-dollar project,” he says. “If they’re good at finding intruders who squeeze through the slightest window—and they’re impeccable—then they ought to be able to find your lanky friends crawling around rocks in the open.”
I scan the rocks offshore in search of them with my own eyes first.
They usually spend the bulk of their day out at sea and come ashore to rest. That’s our best chance at spotting them.
“Keep your eyes peeled anyway,” I tell Shepherd. “Our best chance to see them is when they’re resting, or sometimes when they’re on rocks, breaking mollusks.” I mime the action before stopping cold.
Now I’m just embarrassed.
What is it about this man that makes me act like a complete idiot around him?
He knows what mollusks are.
And um, probably how a hungry otter gets breakfast.
“Understood—and thanks for the demonstration, Destiny.” His lips twitch into another almost-smile that makes my heart skip before I wrestle it back under control.
This is so bad.
“Is their endangered status recent? As in, the last forty years?” he asks. “I mean, out here or Alaska, it’s not too densely populated. They don’t have any natural predators that I know of.”
“How about humans?” I sigh because it makes me sad. “They were hunted for their pelts as traders came west and moved up the coast. Their population recovered a bit, sure, but more recently, pollution has been a massive problem.”
He nods grimly but doesn’t say anything more as I squint across the sun-spangled sea.
I stare at the churning waves, looking for any sign of precious, furry little faces poking out of the water or frolicking around the rocks.
“Did you work with them in your grad program?” he asks from behind me.
“A little. Not as much as I wanted, and not just otters. I was with tons of different research groups with a broad marine life focus, usually. The professors want you to gain a lot of broad experience before you really home in on any specialty. I’ve worked on protecting turtles, dolphins from fisheries, and I even did a stint in Hudson Bay with an international polar bear tracking group.” Though it’s a losing battle like everyone knows. “I guess the otters are close to home. They’ve always held a special place for me. What I’d really like to get involved with is preserving what’s left of our sei whales. They’re crazy rare now in local waters, but a few scientists I worked with swore they’re on the verge of a comeback—if they just had a little more help.”
