Another boom of thunder jerked our gaze skyward.
“Um...maybe we should go inside?” Pippa tugged my shorts, hugging Puffin, the kitten. I smiled at how delicious that sentence was. After so many months, we actually had somewhere to call inside. A shelter to protect us.
I looked up at Galloway, hoping he saw how grateful I was. How grateful I would always be.
That’s what I should’ve written.
I’m grateful for you.
Always.
Another fork of lightning.
Conner broke from our group, peering at the shoreline. His hand came up, pointing at something in the tide.
Something large, black, and sinister.
“What’s that?” He took a step closer. “Something’s crawling out of the ocean.”
“What?” Galloway spun around. “Where?”
A black blob slowly lifted itself from the waves, making its way inch by inch up the beach. “What the hell is that?” Galloway moved with Conner, closer and closer.
I didn’t want them to get too close, but if we didn’t investigate, we might be worse off. Knowledge was key on this island.
“I don’t like it.” Pippa stole my hand. “What if it’s not friendly?”
I squeezed her fingers as another black splodge appeared, following the first.
Then another and another. “I’m sure it’s fine, Pip. But let’s get closer and see.”
The little girl fought my pulling, but I didn’t let her go. Circumstances like these—when facing a new challenge—were best done together.
Galloway suddenly laughed. “Holy crap.”
“That’s so cool.” Conner ran toward the closest blob, his fear completely eradicated. “How awesome is this?”
Galloway jogged (with a slight limp) after Conner. Together, they hovered over the creature hauling itself up the beach.
“What? What is it?” Pippa strained to see.
My eyes finally made sense of the non-descript animal. “I know what that is.”
Pippa squirmed to chase her brother. “What is it?”
Galloway turned to grin. “They’re turtles. Lots and lots of turtles.”
I gaped at the carpet of turtles making their way up our stretch of sand.
After months of being on the island, we hadn’t seen any creatures apart from an odd lizard, snake, and occasional seagull. However, we’d suddenly become a zoo. “What are they doing here?” More black shapes hoisted themselves from the warm water, coming to meet us with a sheer mindedness that gave me goosebumps.
“I’m not sure.” Galloway left Conner crawling beside the leader, and returned to my side. “Perhaps to mate?”
The word mate and the implication of what that entailed twisted my tummy.
He cleared his throat as the silence between us became heavily potent. “Or to lay eggs. They do that on land.”
Pippa freed herself from my hold. “I like turtles.” Taking off, she headed for her brother, her stuffed kitten dangling in her hand.
Galloway and I tensed. We weren’t alone, but there was enough distance to conjure the same electricity and jolting awareness demanding to be acted upon.
We kept our eyes trained on the children, even as our hands stretched out and our fingers interlocked without a word.
The second we touched, I ceased to breathe. I became nothing more than neurons and hormones, desperate to finally claim him.
Pippa tried to push past Conner. “Is it a turtle? I want to touch the turtle.”
Conner caught her as she darted around him. “Wait, you have to be gentle, Pip.”
She stuck out her tongue. “I am gentle, noodle head.”
“Noodle head?” Galloway snickered, catching my eye. “That’s a new one.”
Over the past few months, the children had hurled obscenities, slowly becoming more and more creative. Any word, if said in the right connotation, could become a surly curse.
I should know. Galloway was a master at muttering simple phrases but with rage that painted my cheeks.
“Come on, we better supervise.” Galloway tugged my hand, and together, we caught up to Pip and Conner, sharing in their excitement.
Respectful of the creatures, we didn’t talk loudly. Preferring to watch the giants of the sea trade the grace of swimming for manual labour of flippers on sand.
The thunder slowly stopped its threatening rumble, heading away while the turtles took their time climbing ashore.
We paced beside them patiently. I counted eight, with more appearing behind us.
A few minutes later, as more arrivals appeared, Galloway said, “There has to be close to sixteen or so. What were the odds that their nesting ground was our tiny island?”
I didn’t know how that made me feel. Awed that we had the honour of being the birthing safety of such ancient creatures or extremely sad that it was far enough away from human and predators that their age-old process hadn’t changed.
How long had this island been untouched, unnoticed? How much longer would it remain so?
Another month?
Two?
A year?
Was it possible to go our entire lives in this day and age and never be found?
My throat closed up as my thoughts careened down a chute of depression.
Balling my hands, I forced sharp nails into my palm.
Stop that. Galloway is stronger now. We have a home.
Soon, we would be free to look at methods of leaving on our own merits. We no longer had to wait for nature to heal us. We could find our own way back to society...somehow.