I glare at him for jostling us until Phin squeezes me against him tighter. Aww, we both grabbed my belly to protect our hatchlings. We share stupid smiles while Thomas natters on about what fish are below us. The flat, calm waters have intensified to brisk waves. The roaring of the white caps in the distance sends a shiver down my spine. Phin’s countenance falls from adoration to concern.
“We should navigate the rapids in the daylight, but the catfish in the mud at the river’s bottom is good eats. If you dock on dry land for the night, I bet Harriett could roast some over a fire and enjoy it too,” Thomas says,oblivious to my growing fear.
My stomach growls, so I mustn’t be too scared, or maybe I’m tired of feeling scared. The two hybrids laugh at my body’s noise. “I haven’t eaten since we left. I was too worried—”
“Our hatchlings depend on you to eat,” Phin answers in a surprisingly dominant voice. My heart beats double time in response. “Thank you, Thomas, for looking after us as well as alerting me to Harriett’s need for food. Before we part ways, you must join us in a catfish feast.”
Thomas nods and slips back into the water as if Phin barked a command. The other siblings mentioned he was their de facto leader, but I have never seen this side of him. I’m proud he’s the father of my hatchlings. My anxiety drops like a stone. As long as I follow him, I will be cherished…and that’s all that matters.
“Hairy, you will hide in the shelter—”
Um, no.
“I’ve steered this raft every second you have been passed out! I won’t sit back and let the big males handle the rapids.”
“You must relax and focus on holding our young—”
“I haven’t relaxed a second since I got them! Why start now? Phin, you can’t push me into a corner to protect me—”
“I hatethis, but I love you too much to argue. If I can swim in the rapids with my injuries, I guess you can steer from up here with our eggs.” He throws his hands in the air.
“Thank you,” I reply, grabbing his cheeks and kissing him thoroughly. I let go when I’m nudged backward by a tentacle holding a bundle of bandages. “You took them off—”
“I need my skin to breathe underwater and my limbs free to fight the current. You can dress me again when we’re safe.” He gives me a mischievous smirk as if the bandages do nothing but satisfy my need to take care of him. I narrow my eyes at him to let him know I’m onto his assessment of my care but suppress the arguments boiling in my belly. He knows his body better than anyone…as a different species from me…
“Be careful, please. We need you,” I whisper. My gut’s tied in knots. The fear of losing him makes me want to shovehiminto the raft’s shelter, but common sense says we are better off with two aquatic males under the raft than one. I refuse to cry another tear, but my heart weeps. Have we made a mistake in leaving Leopold’s estate? Should we have killed him and taken over?
“Hairy,” Phin whispers, stroking my face with a barbel. His webbed fingers envelop my hands to stop their shaking. “We won’t be separated again. I promise.”
He’s so strong, I believe him.
He slips between the waves, leaving me holding fists of bloody rags. I chuck them into the bowl I anchored to the back of the shelter. Adding the soiled fabric helps the ornate ceramic crock blend into the surrounding shack. I giggle as I retrieve the hickory branch I’ve used to guide the raft around small obstacles. While the pole is taller than me and quite flexible, it might not be sturdy enough to resist the current of the rapids.
Perhaps I should use a longer bandage to tie myself to the raft? If I’m thrown overboard, I don’t wish to be separated from my escorts. The rapids whirl around boulders in thick, foamy waves. What if I’m thrown and then trap myself beneath the raft with the tether? Which is better—lost or hidden?
Ridiculous. The guys are below, so they will rescue me from confinement and drowning. I tie myself to a branch that makes up the wall, leaving a two-foot radius of movement. Water sprays my face as the raft bobs on the larger swells. My pole successfully pushes the raft from a pointy obstacle when I stab it.I can do this.Thomas’s tail waves as it skirts the pointy boulder on the far side. I haven’t seen Phin since he dipped below the surface. However, if he breathes through his skin like a frog, he doesn’t need to surface for air, right? I never sawhis face during our first encounters because he could stay underwater for hours.
“He’s not drowning, you ninny. You don’t want his attention divided between navigating the rapids and watching you,” I scold myself aloud.
The river shouts and spits in my face in return.
We reach the first set of rapids faster than I imagined. The raft turns sharply to the left. My pole wasn’t in the water! How did I turn? I dig my toes between the planks of the raft as if they can hold me to the surface. Phin’s webbed fingers caress them. The green appendages are startling against the dark brown sticks and my pale, dainty toes. I’m grinning at my feet when we collide with a wall of water. My butt bounces onto the planks as I fall, knocking the air from my lungs. I twirl my pole horizontally, so it catches on the shelter’s side walls. My body swings like a pendulum as the tip of the raft tries to throw me into the water.
The boat slams onto the water’s surface in a violent splash.
I crawl to where I last saw Phin’s fingers. Did the raft crush him against the rocky bottom? He hangs on with white knuckles. His fingers couldn’t grip the sticks like that if he was knocked unconscious, right? I don’t have time to worry because I’m thrown against the shelter’s wall by another boulder. We will hit every rock and bust this rickety structure to bits if I don’t get to my feet! Scrambling to the edge of theraft on my hands and knees, I use the tip of my pole to leverage myself to stand.
I jab at rocks and use the crevices between them to create an exterior rudder for my primitive craft. Once I point the raft where I wish it to go, Thomas slaps the side to build momentum. Phin acts as a stabilizing weight and limits the vertical rocking so I can stay upright.
What the hell is that? Oh, Lord help us! The last obstacle is a four-foot waterfall.
Calm water promises a reprieve on the opposite side, but I shrink in fear. My behind hits the shelter’s back wall before I realize my feet have backpedaled away from the dropoff in an instinctive motion ingrained through the generations. Thomas’s tail disappears as he dives ahead. He wasn’t interacting with me, but the loss of my visual cues makes the hairs on my arms stand on end. Like a coward, I plant my feet as wide as possible, drop my pole, press my palms flat against the shelter walls, close my eyes, and pray for the best.
This must be what my clothes experience in my Washteria.
Air blasts from my lungs. My eyes flare open as the raft hits the bottom. The raft slowly drifts to the center of the Ohio River, where Thomas treads water. I trip over the pole I dropped as I sprint to wherePhin held onto the raft. My chin hits the planks, but I don’t stop frantically searching for his green webs.
“Phin, Phin!” My cries are borderline hysterical.
