“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
Emmy knew puffins aren’t related to penguins, but watching them in action, she could see why people thought so.
The boat pushed farther into the bay, the mountains shrinking behind them, jagged peaks softened by distance. The captain’s voice came again, pointing out a bald eagle perched high on a rocky outcrop. Emmy spotted it — wings tucked, white head stark against the dark stone.
Felix leaned over the rail, one leg up behind him, craning for a better look. Ajax’s voice came low and deep as he caught Felix by the back pocket of his pants and kept him from falling. “Back, silly rabbit.”
Felix grinned sheepishly. “Thanks for the save. I’ll even let therabbitcomment go since you saved me from getting wet.”
Arabella gave a little laugh, and Ajax kissed the top of her head while telling Felix, “Glad I was close. You should be more careful.”
A collective murmur ran through the passengers as the eagle launched into flight, massive wings spreading wider than Emmy’s arms could reach. It circled once, then rose higher in a lazy spiral, rising into the blue sky.
Maren gave a sigh. “I always forget how big they are until I see one flying. Makes hawks look like sparrows.”
Emmy tracked the eagle until it disappeared over a ridge, awestruck at the bird’s majesty.
Twenty minutes later, the engines shifted, slowing, and the crowd surged toward the port side when someone shouted, “Whale!”
Emmy hurried to the railing, squeezing between Toby and a tourist with a camera the size of her arm. At first she saw nothing but dark water broken by whitecaps — and then a column of spray erupted into the air, sunlight catching in the mist.
A humpback, enormous and impossibly graceful, arched over the surface. The smooth dark back rose higher, higher, until the dorsal fin cut the water, then slid down again, leaving a rolling swell in its wake. The tail came last, lifting skyward, black and white patterned, dripping with sheets of seawater before it slammed back into the sea with a thunderclap.
The entire boat cheered. Emmy felt a thrill that vibrated under her skin, through her chest, and all the way to her bones. Awestruck was an understatement.
Beside her, Spence stood utterly still, gaze locked on the horizon. “Magnificent,” he said softly, and for a moment, it was as though the rest of them didn’t exist. Just him and the whale and the stretch of wild Alaska between them.
And then Felix broke the magical moment with, “Do we get extra points if it jumps all the way out of the water? Like a ten out of ten dive score?”
Rhea swatted his arm, but he only said, “Yummm. Do it again.”
The whale was gone, leaving only rings of disturbed water, but Emmy found herself grinning. Once she wascertain it was gone, she told Felix, “We’ve been through this before. Naughty boys don’t get spankings.”
They moved on. The loudspeaker shifted them toward starboard, pointing out rocky cliffs streaked with guano, white as snowfall. Birds swarmed in clouds — puffins again, but also gulls, kittiwakes, and murres, their cries a cacophony above the engine’s thrum. The smell hit too: acrid and pungent, layered with the sea’s brine.
Felix pinched his nose dramatically. “Ah yes, the perfume of nature.”
Maren laughed, popped him on the ass, and told him, “You’re such a child.”
Felix beamed at Emmy. “Sometimes naughty boys get spankings.”
“No,” Maren said. “Funny boys might get spankings, but never naughty little masochists.”
Arabella surprised Emmy by laughing, quick and happy, her smile reflecting in her eyes. Ajax said nothing, but his hand stroked her shoulder absentmindedly, grounding her even in laughter.
Emmy turned back toward the open water. Ahead, the horizon shimmered, blue against bluer. She caught sight of something pale, something that didn’t move like a wave.
Ice.
The captain’s voice again, pointing out a glacier in the distance. Emmy squinted, trying to take in the scale — it looked like a frozen river poured straight down from the mountains, jagged and jagged again, veins of darker blue painting sporadic lines in the white.
And then a sound split the air. A crack, sharp and resonant, like the world itself snapping. Tourists gasped. A chunk of the glacier sheared away, tumbling in slow motion before smashing into the sea. Spray exploded upward, birds scattered in a screaming rush, and the boat rocked in the wake a minute later.
Emmy’s heart hammered. She couldn’t stop staring. The ice had looked eternal, unchanging, and yet it broke so easily, collapsed into the ocean like it had always been meant to.
Rhea’s hand brushed hers on the railing. “It’s like the earth is reminding us we’re small.”
The crowd slowly thinned back toward the cabin, some settling at tables, others still hanging off the rails. Emmy stayed outside with Rhea, the wind tangling her hair, spray cool on her cheeks. For the first time in weeks, she wasn’t thinking about homework, tests, contracts, or money. Just the glacier, the birds, the whale tail burned into her vision.
