In Great Waters
Chapter One
Henry could remember the moment of his birth. Crushing pressure, heat, and then the contact with the sea, terrifyingly cold--but at the same time a release from constriction, the instant freedom of the skin. His mother gathered him up in her arms and swam to the surface, cradling him on her slick breast to lift his head above the water for his first breath. Henry never forgot it, the mouthful of icy air, the waves chopping his skin, a woman's arms holding him up in a world suddenly without warmth.
For the first five years of his life, Henry swam with the tribe. His name was not Henry then, it was something else, a sound best rendered by the word "Whistle." The boy was a slow swimmer. His bifurcated tail was weaker than the strong fins of the other children, leaving him unable to keep up at full speed. Nor could he stay under for as long; even his youngest companions could last half an hour without needing to surface, while Whistle was breathless in half that time. Sometimes the other children would mob him, try to pull him down; usually the adults would pull them off and give their ears a sharp twist. Usually, but not always.
One day ...
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