She makes no reaction, so I ease my way closer. I am distracted by the odd way she blinks until I see that she has two sets of eyelids. An outer one like mine, but there is an inner lid that is a clear membrane like that of a frog. These strange lids make a wet clicking sound when she blinks.

The wound in its ribs has stopped bleeding, but it is still raw looking. She lies half-submerged in the sea water, the tail below and the maiden part above the water line. I notice tiny minnows darting all around the tail, pecking at the scales. Are they cleaning her wounds or devouring her one tiny nibble at a time?

I scoop some of the ointment from the jar. “I am going to put this on your wound. Understand?”

The greasy salve barely sticks to the glistening skin. I apply gobs of the stuff, but I do not know if it will close the harpoon gash. When my clumsy hand grazes her prickly nipple, she bolts upright and pops her jaw. The sharp teeth clamp onto my wrist like a thousand bee stingers and I shriek, splashing away as fast as I can.

We stare at one another in silence. Did she mean to hurt me, or was it simply a natural instinct to protect herself? My wrist throbs, and my mind immediately alights on the possibility of venom. Lord knows, there are plenty of sea creatures that kill with their poison. Is she any different? The exertion seems to exhaust the creature, and she slips below the water. Her expression remains inscrutable, but for a moment, I think I see a flash of regret in those strange eyes.

“Here,” I say, setting the pot on a dry rock. “Heal yourself.”

Keeping a safe distance, I tug the rope and draw the trap to me. If she doesn’t want the crab, then we will eat it for our supper tonight.

7

7

THE CRAB IS BOILED and brought to the table. Father is delighted and Bryndis tears into it like a pirate. Pip won’t touch it at all. My wrist throbs where the thing’s teeth sank into it, the flesh swelling and jaundiced. When my sister asks what happened, I mutter something about the crab pinching me when I pushed it into the bubbling cauldron.

The surprise delicacy brings a rare touch of good spirits to our table. It is nice to see Father enjoy himself. I take no joy in it, the meat chewy and tasteless on my tongue. I am preoccupied with the secret hidden beneath the fishing hut. What if the creature dies? I tell myself that I have done all I can for it, but my stomach curdles on this lie. Do I not have some obligation to save such a fantastic creature? What if she is the last of her kind? The sourness of my indecision poisons my appetite. I push the plate away.