But sometimes the current coming out of one inlet would move more rapidly than the current sweeping by out in a channel, causing the waters to curve, and curve again, moving stronger and stronger in a circle that would soon begin a small circling tidal flow. But then, feeding on itself, eating more and more passing current, it would change its character. It would grow into a monster. An enormous ripping, sinking, savage whirlpool.

If the tide had been very high, and larger-than-usual amounts of seawater were involved, these whirlpools could be huge, clawing all nearby things in the water into the middle and without mercy sucking everything into a killing, downward spiral.

Leif did not know any of this.

Not yet.

He was asleep, sound asleep in the bottom of the canoe with his head on the blanket roll. He had used a piece of cord to tie the blanket in a tight bundle enclosing his meagre equipment because he had found that when he dozed, slept, the ravens grew bolder and would try to get inside the blanket. The smoked fish he kept next to him as he slept, with his arm over the meat, and sometimes the ravens were so forward they would peck at the meat next to his arm.

But the sun was warm, the bottom of the canoe cosy, a rocking cradle of motion, and Leif was out completely—

And would have died that way were it not for a raven sitting on the edge of the canoe over the meat. This raven was more bold than the rest, or perhaps more hungry, and it decided to grab a large piece of meat off the slabs of salmon, but the meat was heavy and stuck to the skin and when the bird jerked at the fish, it was off-balance and fell, flapping wildly, directly on Leif’s face.

Leif snapped awake and the raven flew off and the boy started to lie back down but hesitated when he realized the movement of the canoe felt oddly changed. It was moving faster than normal – he could see the trees in a distant shoreline dashing past – and he sat up to see what had changed.

At first, for a moment, he could not understand what he was seeing. The canoe was caught on the outer edge of what appeared to be an enormous circular current, a spinning pool of water, which, to Leif, made no sense at all.

How could it be there?

Strange, but he did not perceive a critical danger.

Yet.

He rolled to his knees and grabbed his paddle. He was still far from the circle’s centre and it seemed to be a mere matter of paddling away from the pulling motion of water.

He dug in, swinging the nose of the canoe, aiming away from the centre, moving, he thought, across the direction of the current that swept the canoe along.

Plenty of time.

He thought.