And she’d believed him; she’d never asked him: How?

He had explained to her—by barking softly and swimming in circles around her, first one way, then the other—that the haul-out islands breach the water just off the southern coast; and he had told her that she didn’t have to go to the haul-out, that she could just follow the coast to the west, and then follow her ears and nose to find the herded school.

She spiralled slowly down into the green-black then back up towards the surface, which was silvery and opaque, muddied by the light bleeding through the thick, low clouds. She spiralled down then back up again, waiting for her churning pup to settle. Eventually it did, and she swam towards the rearing stone sea cliffs, thinking maybe that was where he would be waiting for her, and thinking, in any case, it would be good to put some distance between herself and the haul-out. In neutral waters she would be a curious anomaly, and hopefully nothing more.

She lolled for a while, enjoying the fizzing turbulence of the swell hitting the shallow ledges beneath the cliffs. A curious beta-half-pup joined her.

He asked her why she was there by cocking his head to one side and brushing his flipper against her swollen belly.

She explained to him that she had come to find her friend.

The beta-half-pup told her that he knew the seal she was looking for. He told her that he had not seen her friend in a long time, not since an alpha threw him from the rocks, back before winter.

She was disappointed. She had seen her friend more recently than this.

So he didn’t return?

No, the beta-half-pup told her by barking. Then, he rubbed his body around hers, to comfort her and tell her there were plenty of other haul-outs that her friend may have gone to.

They herded a school of darting herring together and gorged themselves, then he returned to the haul-out and she continued west, following the directions her friend had given her.

Maybe he is waiting for me closer to the school, she thought as she swam.

After a while, she heard them, just like her friend described. She heard them sliding and fluttering against one another, herded so tightly there was no water between them. There were only bodies rubbing on bodies rubbing on bodies.

As she swam closer, the water became murky and so sweet with rotting fish she didn’t know if she wanted to gobble it up or vomit—maybe because of the smell and taste, or maybe because the pup in her belly had begun moving restlessly, stirred up by the filthy water burrowing into her fur or by her agitation or by something else entirely.