That Kalus had another reason for doing so he kept to himself, a
seeming contradiction to the intimate closeness of those days. But he
knew the symptoms of his heart and would not cross them. Not yet. He
was afraid, and at the same time drawn, to the thing he did not
understand.
The girl watched happily as Alaska made a reckless charge back through
the surf, crashing the shallow water against her chest with the
inexhaustible energy of youth. Having lived more than half her life
among humans, it seemed a perfectly natural thing to do: running in
joyful frolic toward the outstretched, clapping hands of her soft,
female friend. And as she came to a sudden, impulsive halt, shaking the
cold water from her fur, she took little notice as Sylviana turned a
puzzled gaze far out across the waters. It only meant that her friend no
longer wished to play.
Sylviana couldn't believe her eyes. IT HAS TO BE AN ILLUSION, she
thought. SOME KIND OF MIRAGE. But still the image lingered. Perhaps a
half mile out, a lone human figure had just emerged from the water and
propped itself gracefully atop a tiny islet, a mere rock at the edge of
the continental shelf, which had somehow survived the weathering of the
years.
At least it looked human. Just at the distance where eyesight begins to
fail and imagination to fill the void, the creature looked strangely
surreal: something from an ancient legend of the sea.
Pages:
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243