I listen to their footfalls drift away. When I sit up, everyone is gone save my siblings. Bryndis looks out at the water while Pip hugs his scrawny knees to his chest. Both of their eyes are puffy with tears.

Pip wipes his nose. “I’m sorry I told on you.”

“It’s all right. Dry your eyes now.”

The desperation in my sister’s eyes is something I have not seen before. The intensity of it frightens me.

“What are we going to do?” she asks. “They hate us now.”

My head is too empty to reply. I look out over the pier, the shoreline. Everyone has gone home.

“What happened to Agnet?”

Bryndis’s face pinches into anger. “God, Kaspar!” she spits and walks away. “Why must you be so selfish?”

14

14

FATHER RETREATS INTO the vestry and will not come out. Bryndis scrapes the dregs of saltcod from the last barrel. There is no more, she says. None of us venture past our gate. Pip vanishes at one point. I find him inside the church, praying to our dead mother’s spirit to save us. My blighted hand is now completely numb.

The creature maintains her vigil, keeping us all landlocked. Yesterday morning, Gunhild’s cows are found dead in the pasture. Not a mark on either of them. Another dog is found floating in the bay.

A pounding on the door startles us all. I open it to find Ulric bowing, hand on the pommel of his sword.

“The men are meeting at the hall,” he says.

“My father does not wish to be disturbed.”

His scowl deepens. “He’s no use to us. We need you. Come.”

“Me?”

Ulric becomes impatient. “Gunther said he needs a steady oarsman. Hurry, now.”

Bryndis shakes her head, warning me not to go. I’ve half a mind to agree, but refusing might prove worse. I take my jacket from the peg and follow the veteran fisherman.

The hall is dim and smoky from the fire. The fishermen huddle around the hearth in their rancid clothes and grim faces. A few are well into their cups, but most are frighteningly sober.

Gunther strides the boards, rallying the men into action. He has a knack for stirring the blood of his fellows.

“We have to take the fight to it,” he roars. “The creature has left us no other option. We must fight. We have let this thing unman us for too long. No more of this sitting on our hands and dithering over what to do. We kill the damn thing!”

“But how?” says a voice in the smoky darkness.

“I won’t lie to you,” the burly man goes on. “This will be a hard fight and some of us may not return. But we have to do it now, before we are too starved and weak to do anything. Every man, every boat. Every blade. Who’s with me?”

Fists thump the tables in response, cups spilling liquor.