coral. But he felt sorry for the boy.
Like all humans, he wasn’t made for the Sea. His body was as flat as a flounder, and he had seaweed growing out of his head. Instead of a tail he had legs like a crab, but only two, and unlike a crab they were soft, and easily bitten off. His front flippers were even worse, as they were split into wiggly bits at the ends, which made them hopeless for swimming, although very tasty to sharks.
The thought of the shark made the dolphin prickle with alarm. He and his pod had chased it into the Black Beneath, where they’d butted it so thoroughly that it wouldn’t be back; but there were more sharks in the Sea, and the boy was easy prey.
The trouble was, the dolphin couldn’t get him to understand that he meant no harm. He’d tried, but the boy just got angry and biffed him on the nose—which made the dolphin angry too, so then they were both slamming the waves and calling bad things.
In frustration, the dolphin left the Edge and swam down through the Blue Deep, searching the tangled water for sharks. Nothing. Good.
When he returned to the Edge, the boy wasn’t moving.
At first the dolphin thought he was dead. Then he saw his leg twitch, and realized that he was doing that weird thing that humans did, when they simply
stopped.
It was alarming, but the dolphin had learned that it was their way of sleeping.
The dolphin surfaced, and the boy woke with a jerk, crying out in his odd, blunt human speech. The dolphin felt the boy’s terror crackling through the water. He heard the frightened fluttering of his poor little puny human heart.
Everything was going wrong. The dolphin didn’t know how to make the boy not be scared of him; and he feared what might happen with that stick.
Hylas missed the dolphin. Why had it disappeared again? What was he doing wrong?
He was weak with hunger and thirst, and so tired it was an effort to stay on the plank, let alone paddle. His lips were cracked, his flesh spongy and pale from beingin the water so long. The scab had come off the wound on his arm, which was throbbing and sore. He was finding it increasingly hard to stay awake.
Issi’s voice came and went in his head. “Come on, Hylas, hurry up and find me. I’m
hungry
!”
Telamon was here too, clicking his tongue with impatience. “Surely you’re not giving up? And after all the trouble I had to steal that chariot!”
A wave slapped him awake.
Only it wasn’t a wave; it was a scrap of seaweed.
The dolphin was back.
Hylas was glad and scared at the same time. His heart began to pound as he gripped the plank in one hand, the dagger in the other. Was it going to rush him again?
This time it wasn’t laughing or clacking its jaws. It swam quietly, arching above the surface just long enough to breathe before dipping under again. Maybe it wasn’t angry anymore?
Tentatively, Hylas took the seaweed and trailed it in the water.
The dolphin swam past—not glancing at him, but clearly aware of what he was doing. The second time it passed, Hylas saw it eyeing the knife in his fist. He swapped hands, laying the knife on the plank and trailing the seaweed temptingly with his free hand. He was tense. The dolphin was tense.
Hylas cast the seaweed over the waves and waited.
The dolphin swam past and took the seaweed lightly onthe leading edge of its flipper, tossed it in the air, caught it deftly on its nose, swam on its side for a bit, then passed Hylas again, still with the seaweed.
Hylas reached for it. He missed.
For a while the dolphin played toss and catch by itself. Then it forgot the seaweed and dived. Anxiously, Hylas peered after it. Would it be back?
Suddenly he saw it far beneath him, rising with astonishing speed. He floundered to get out of the way. The dolphin surfaced right next to him, flexed its tail, and flicked something out of the Sea, right over his head.
Whatever it was fell with a splash. The dolphin swam after it and did it again. A fish. It was flipping a fish
Like all humans, he wasn’t made for the Sea. His body was as flat as a flounder, and he had seaweed growing out of his head. Instead of a tail he had legs like a crab, but only two, and unlike a crab they were soft, and easily bitten off. His front flippers were even worse, as they were split into wiggly bits at the ends, which made them hopeless for swimming, although very tasty to sharks.
The thought of the shark made the dolphin prickle with alarm. He and his pod had chased it into the Black Beneath, where they’d butted it so thoroughly that it wouldn’t be back; but there were more sharks in the Sea, and the boy was easy prey.
The trouble was, the dolphin couldn’t get him to understand that he meant no harm. He’d tried, but the boy just got angry and biffed him on the nose—which made the dolphin angry too, so then they were both slamming the waves and calling bad things.
In frustration, the dolphin left the Edge and swam down through the Blue Deep, searching the tangled water for sharks. Nothing. Good.
When he returned to the Edge, the boy wasn’t moving.
At first the dolphin thought he was dead. Then he saw his leg twitch, and realized that he was doing that weird thing that humans did, when they simply
stopped.
It was alarming, but the dolphin had learned that it was their way of sleeping.
The dolphin surfaced, and the boy woke with a jerk, crying out in his odd, blunt human speech. The dolphin felt the boy’s terror crackling through the water. He heard the frightened fluttering of his poor little puny human heart.
Everything was going wrong. The dolphin didn’t know how to make the boy not be scared of him; and he feared what might happen with that stick.
Hylas missed the dolphin. Why had it disappeared again? What was he doing wrong?
He was weak with hunger and thirst, and so tired it was an effort to stay on the plank, let alone paddle. His lips were cracked, his flesh spongy and pale from beingin the water so long. The scab had come off the wound on his arm, which was throbbing and sore. He was finding it increasingly hard to stay awake.
Issi’s voice came and went in his head. “Come on, Hylas, hurry up and find me. I’m
hungry
!”
Telamon was here too, clicking his tongue with impatience. “Surely you’re not giving up? And after all the trouble I had to steal that chariot!”
A wave slapped him awake.
Only it wasn’t a wave; it was a scrap of seaweed.
The dolphin was back.
Hylas was glad and scared at the same time. His heart began to pound as he gripped the plank in one hand, the dagger in the other. Was it going to rush him again?
This time it wasn’t laughing or clacking its jaws. It swam quietly, arching above the surface just long enough to breathe before dipping under again. Maybe it wasn’t angry anymore?
Tentatively, Hylas took the seaweed and trailed it in the water.
The dolphin swam past—not glancing at him, but clearly aware of what he was doing. The second time it passed, Hylas saw it eyeing the knife in his fist. He swapped hands, laying the knife on the plank and trailing the seaweed temptingly with his free hand. He was tense. The dolphin was tense.
Hylas cast the seaweed over the waves and waited.
The dolphin swam past and took the seaweed lightly onthe leading edge of its flipper, tossed it in the air, caught it deftly on its nose, swam on its side for a bit, then passed Hylas again, still with the seaweed.
Hylas reached for it. He missed.
For a while the dolphin played toss and catch by itself. Then it forgot the seaweed and dived. Anxiously, Hylas peered after it. Would it be back?
Suddenly he saw it far beneath him, rising with astonishing speed. He floundered to get out of the way. The dolphin surfaced right next to him, flexed its tail, and flicked something out of the Sea, right over his head.
Whatever it was fell with a splash. The dolphin swam after it and did it again. A fish. It was flipping a fish
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