Read Online The Silver Ship and the Sea by Brenda Cooper - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Brenda Cooper
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upside down, pouring the ashes into the water. A wave mingled them together. We stayed until the water absorbed the last trace of the ashes. We threw the urns as far out as we could.
A black sea-hunter swooped down from the sky and picked one of the urns up in its huge claws, then dropped it, cawing in disgust. I laughed at its confusion. We turned our hebras around and walked them quietly back to where Tom waited at the bottom of the path.
He looked at each of us in turn, balancing easily on his mount, as if he belonged here near the wild sea rather than working in Artistos. “When my mom died, I scattered her ashes in Little Lace Lake. She used to take me there to picnic, the whole Lace Forest spread around us, and just the two of us to explore it. It wasn’t, perhaps, very safe. But I always felt alive there with her. It felt good to leave her there.”
I nodded. “Thank you.”
Joseph said, “Perhaps it will always feel special to be here now.”
This was a kind thing for Tom to do, to help us get here, and to know we needed our own private moment to wish them well. As we wound up the steep trail single file, I felt lighter, as if the urn had weighed far more than it truly did. My throat was raw from singing our way to the sea, but still I hummed softly to Jinks, grateful to her for carrying me here.
Once we reached straight solid path, Joseph moved Legs into a slow gallop and I followed, Tom behind us this time. The sun warmed my back. Jinks’s thick hide began to darken with sweat. I thought perhaps we should slow down, but Joseph was too far ahead to hear me yell, and I didn’t want to be separated from him. Jinks strained, trying to keep up with Legs, but we continued to lose ground. Tom was just behind us and I heard him yell, “Slow down, I’m passing.”
The grass suddenly parted in front and to the left of Joseph. Legs reared and leaped right, away from the path, screaming. Jinks’s head flew up. The tawny coat of a paw-cat, tall as a man, flashedacross the path. I stood in the stirrups, looking for its pack mates.
A second wave of disturbed grass approached Joseph from behind.
Jinks jerked to a halt, throwing me onto her long neck. She swiveled her head quickly, her eyes passing over me, searching the grass. I urged her forward, after Joseph, clamping my legs tightly around her middle. She reared up, but she came down running, obeying. I blessed her under my breath.
Tom and Sugar Wheat shot past us, running full out, Tom urging Sugar Wheat on. His hand was on his stunner. It wouldn’t do much good here; the cats would be hard targets racing through the tall thick grass.
I clung to the saddle and looked for Joseph. Legs’s head, Joseph’s bobbing ahead and behind, raced through the grass, parallel to the path but twenty meters off. Joseph struggled to pull the frightened hebra back to the path where they stood a better chance of outrunning the paw-cats. Hebras are faster than paw-cats, but the advantage means more in the open. The Grass Plains hide rocks and depressions and small streams that can trip and slow the big beasts. Tom was following the first paw-cat’s grass track, still far behind.
Jinks and I pounded down the path, drawing parallel to where Joseph and Tom raced through the grass.
Jinks darted left with a scream that almost drowned the paw-cat roar that filled my ears. I glimpsed a big female ten meters ahead of us. Jinks wheeled and we were in the grass, too. I held my breath, not wanting to draw Tom’s attention from Joseph. My hands shook with fear. Jinks was their natural prey. Paw-cats didn’t eat humans, but they killed us if we were in the way. The cat was huge, and every movement it made was the graceful flow of impending death.
I couldn’t look behind, just hold tightly to Jinks, leaning forward, urging her on. Jinks wasn’t fast for a hebra, but the cat’s next roar sounded farther away. Jinks veered to avoid a pile of rocks, then stumbled as her foot
A black sea-hunter swooped down from the sky and picked one of the urns up in its huge claws, then dropped it, cawing in disgust. I laughed at its confusion. We turned our hebras around and walked them quietly back to where Tom waited at the bottom of the path.
He looked at each of us in turn, balancing easily on his mount, as if he belonged here near the wild sea rather than working in Artistos. “When my mom died, I scattered her ashes in Little Lace Lake. She used to take me there to picnic, the whole Lace Forest spread around us, and just the two of us to explore it. It wasn’t, perhaps, very safe. But I always felt alive there with her. It felt good to leave her there.”
I nodded. “Thank you.”
Joseph said, “Perhaps it will always feel special to be here now.”
This was a kind thing for Tom to do, to help us get here, and to know we needed our own private moment to wish them well. As we wound up the steep trail single file, I felt lighter, as if the urn had weighed far more than it truly did. My throat was raw from singing our way to the sea, but still I hummed softly to Jinks, grateful to her for carrying me here.
Once we reached straight solid path, Joseph moved Legs into a slow gallop and I followed, Tom behind us this time. The sun warmed my back. Jinks’s thick hide began to darken with sweat. I thought perhaps we should slow down, but Joseph was too far ahead to hear me yell, and I didn’t want to be separated from him. Jinks strained, trying to keep up with Legs, but we continued to lose ground. Tom was just behind us and I heard him yell, “Slow down, I’m passing.”
The grass suddenly parted in front and to the left of Joseph. Legs reared and leaped right, away from the path, screaming. Jinks’s head flew up. The tawny coat of a paw-cat, tall as a man, flashedacross the path. I stood in the stirrups, looking for its pack mates.
A second wave of disturbed grass approached Joseph from behind.
Jinks jerked to a halt, throwing me onto her long neck. She swiveled her head quickly, her eyes passing over me, searching the grass. I urged her forward, after Joseph, clamping my legs tightly around her middle. She reared up, but she came down running, obeying. I blessed her under my breath.
Tom and Sugar Wheat shot past us, running full out, Tom urging Sugar Wheat on. His hand was on his stunner. It wouldn’t do much good here; the cats would be hard targets racing through the tall thick grass.
I clung to the saddle and looked for Joseph. Legs’s head, Joseph’s bobbing ahead and behind, raced through the grass, parallel to the path but twenty meters off. Joseph struggled to pull the frightened hebra back to the path where they stood a better chance of outrunning the paw-cats. Hebras are faster than paw-cats, but the advantage means more in the open. The Grass Plains hide rocks and depressions and small streams that can trip and slow the big beasts. Tom was following the first paw-cat’s grass track, still far behind.
Jinks and I pounded down the path, drawing parallel to where Joseph and Tom raced through the grass.
Jinks darted left with a scream that almost drowned the paw-cat roar that filled my ears. I glimpsed a big female ten meters ahead of us. Jinks wheeled and we were in the grass, too. I held my breath, not wanting to draw Tom’s attention from Joseph. My hands shook with fear. Jinks was their natural prey. Paw-cats didn’t eat humans, but they killed us if we were in the way. The cat was huge, and every movement it made was the graceful flow of impending death.
I couldn’t look behind, just hold tightly to Jinks, leaning forward, urging her on. Jinks wasn’t fast for a hebra, but the cat’s next roar sounded farther away. Jinks veered to avoid a pile of rocks, then stumbled as her foot
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