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This would be a Taking year. It had been a long time—decades—since the last one. But this year, there had been signs. The timing was right. The wise women and the Head of the Gull Clan—and, most importantly, the clan gossips—all agreed on this. The whispers followed Eithni everywhere she walked. Especially now, as the days reached their darkest, as the frost daily made glittering shards of the brown grass along the paths. Already the long, deep nights had told Eithni she didn’t have long. Because, as much as she wanted to shut them out, she believed the whispers. This would be a Taking year, and Eithni would

We hear the distress calls from the dolphins first. They have found the Sentinel who was lost to Us not three nights ago. All had felt the absence from our collective song then. Our body, our mind, cut off amid strange images of being trapped in darkness, yet trapped in…nothing. Now the dolphins tell a tale of brokenness and death, one we know to be true. The knowledge ripples through our mind, and we swim in the direction of the dolphins’ call. We are fast, and closest to the fallen one. Our sinuous tail snaps as we dodge between the rocky columns that were the source of our clam-collecting mission, now abandoned. Our hand swip

If this is what it felt like to be a hero, I didn't want in anymore. My palms were horribly sweaty. Andrew was still fiddling with the wrist tech, so I tried to surreptitiously wipe my hands on my skirt, expensive lace fabric notwithstanding. My bare legs were already stuck to the leather seat of the car - something I clearly hadn't foreseen when I decided a short cocktail dress was the way to go for this mission. Brilliant choice, Emily. It had seemed so confidence-boosting at the time, especially with the way Andrew had reacted. (I don't think Dr. Columba had noticed his response, but of course no one could hide that sort of thing from me.