It hurts less than the last time I saw you, she said, which was true, but it still hurt a lot.

The silbercows continued to float there, looking pensive.

How are your injuries? she asked.

The silbercows told her that their injuries were fine today.

Are they? she said. Because I’m getting the impression that something’s wrong.

They told her that it was just their usual worries, then nudged their noses toward her new treasure. We couldn’t save him, they said.

Oh dear! she said. Do you mean you had to watch him die?

They explained that no, he was already dead when they found him. Some humans had dropped his body out of an airship.

Oh! she said. I saw some humans drop out of an airship that time, and steal that other human from the sea.

Yes. The silbercows said they remembered. And of course they did; the massacre of their friends had happened that night. The creature was sorry for reminding them. The metal eggs full of fire also drop into the sea from airships, the silbercows reminded her, for they’d told her this before. People threw the metal eggs out of airships into the sea, then there was a moment of quiet, then there was an explosion. If the silbercows didn’t get away fast enough, terrible things happened.

The creature went quiet, because she found herself formulating a brilliant idea. She puffed herself up a little, making her tentacles long and eye-stems alert, because she was proud of herself.

I have an idea, she announced.

The silbercows all wanted to know her idea immediately.

Airships are bad, she said.

The silbercows were not as staggered by her idea as she’d expected them to be. They looked at one another with knowing expressions, then told her that sometimes airships could be good, with people in them who cared about silbercows and wanted to hear their stories. Some humans in airships told them stories too, stories about humans. Sometimes, the silbercows and the humans could put their stories together and make sense of what was happening on land and in the sea. They asked her, Do you remember the stories we’ve told you?

Yes. You don’t need to tell me again, said the creature hastily, then hummed a little, to discourage them. Since the day she’d lost her tentacle, they’d told her many of the stories behind her own treasures, and stories of other things too, happening in other parts of the ocean she hadn’t seen. Some were stories about accidents, like a storm breaking a ship apart. Others were stories about humans hurting each other. She reached her limit very fast.

The silbercows told her that there was something they wanted to ask her, related to stories.