Chapter 2

Once the males Kirklin’s Sacrifice became regular practice, the role of the Alewars became even more important. As the population of males dropped significantly, the Alewars took on the hunting and fishing duties to help the family pods survive.

2

Eighteen Years Later

Sartin climbed onto his favorite crag in the ocean to take advantage of the late afternoon sun. Grasping at the familiar holds, he pulled his hips and backside onto the hard surface, made slick and soft with lichens and moss. He removed his bone-tipped spear from the sling around his back and placed it in a crack of the rock. The sun warmed his body and soon he breathed evenly above the water. Only his tail fluke remained submerged.

A cool, early autumn breeze blew across his body, reminding him that in seven sleeps, the pod would start its journey to Winter Beach. He closed his eyes, looked toward the sun, and prayed to the Princess.

Please don’t torture me anymore. Help me find another pod to live with as a single Alewar.

After only a moment’s relaxation, he sat up and surveyed his surroundings. Just as his uncle and the other Alewars had taught him, he surveyed all four quadrants within his sight. A predatory dorsal fin broke the surface in the upper right. He let out a call signal to judge the distance. Closing his eyes and opening his mouth, he waited for the echo to return.

When nothing came back after a few moments, he opened his eyes. The menacing fin, off in the distance, didn’t seem like much of a threat, but he thought he’d better let his watch partner know what he had seen.

“Shark in the upper right,” he said. Similar to the language of dolphins, the clicks and whistles he sent his watch partner formed their ancient tongue.

Water splashed as Wickizer drew himself onto Sartin’s perch. “Don’t yell, I’m right here,” he saidwith a shrill whistle. Wickizer glanced to the right quadrant. “I don’t see anything,” he said, eachclick and whistle full of sarcasm.

Wickizer laid back and absorbed the sun. Wickizer’s red hair, his light skin spotted with freckles, and his brown mottled tail contrasted with Sartin’s dark hair, dark skin, and blue-grey tail. Sartin’s cousin, Bray, had made a good choice in mates and Wickizer had given her not one, but two offspring.

Wickizer opened his eyes. “What are you looking at?” He grinned, catching Sartin staring.

Sartin shuddered. “Nothing.”

“You’re weird.”

A small school of shrimp floated near the crag. Wickizer flicked his tail and sent five of them sailing through the air. He caught them with both hands and gave two of them to Sartin.

“Why do you treat me different when we’re alone out here than when we’re back at Home Cove?” Sartin asked. He bit into his snack.

Wickizer wrinkled his forehead. “What do you mean, I don’t treat—”

“But you do. Out here you’re civil to me, and back home, you’re a bully.”

Wickizer took another bite of food and stared straight ahead. He chewed slowly then gulped down the food so he could answer.

“For being a protector of the pod, oh Great Alewar of the Pod Belzer, you sure are sensitive today,” Wickizer teased.

“Alewar or not, you’re a jerk.”

“You shouldn’t take things so personally.” Wickizer’s tone softened.

“How can I not? Everything you say to me when others are around is rude.”

Wickizer didn’t respond right away. Both finished their share of the shrimp until there was one left over.

“Split it?” Wickizer offered.

“Sure.” Sartin held out his hand.

Wickizer stuck the head of the shrimp in his mouth. “Come and get it,” he dared.

Even before Sartin was first Presented, Wickizer’s interactions rode the line between polite conversation and flirting. Although rare for a male to be widowed, sometimes a widower took an Alewar as a mate. This elevated the widower to the Protector class along with his mate. Wickizer was not a widower, and they were both too young to be thinking about that kind of pairing.

Sartin called Wickizer’s bluff and bit the butt of the shrimp squirming in Wickizer’s mouth. Their lips touched for a brief moment. Had the shark not appeared in his peripheral vision, Sartin might have indulged Wickizer in his playful bluff.

Instinct and training took over his body. He sounded the distress signal. The echo came back quickly. The shark was within a mile of the pod. Wickizer swallowed his own half of the shrimp and repeated the signal that all Sea People recognized from birth as danger.

Click, click, click, clack, clack, clack, click, click, click.

Wickizer jumped from the crag into the sea, slapping his fluke on the surface in the process. The shark shot right toward him.