Round black critters scurried over the small pools, oblivious to the rising tide—and, so far, to us. As often as the ocean swept them out, they crawled back in, no stone or hole or shell left untouched.
More confused than anything, I asked, “What are those?”
“Scuttlers. Scavengers.”
“Should I…” I inched forward, poking my head back out—barely ducking in time as a long-forgotten piece of fishing equipment flew off the cliff and landed in the damp sand. “Be concerned? They look like giant, tailless tadpoles. Angry ones.”
“Nah, jus’ don’t get close.” He didn’t even flinch when a group of them jumped off the rocky shelf and sailed over his head, fighting and spitting like a savage pack of hairless chihuahuas. “Extremely territorial.”
Digging into his pocket, he pulled out a bag.
I eyed the speckled balls within the plastic. “Are those…?”
“Jawbreakers.” After pouring out a palmful and popping a few in his mouth, he stashed the rest. “If one of ’em gets out of line, pop ’em.” He demonstrated with a quick, jabbing motion.
“Is violence the solution to all your problems?” I asked.
He shrugged. “Most of ’em.”
“Wouldn’t a golf ball do more damage?”
“I can’t eat golf balls.”
Rolling my eyes, I fell back into position.
Using my knowledge of the ocean, I listened to the waves as if I was getting ready for a rough paddle out to the surf lineup: memorizing the pattern of the tide, timing the heavy crashes, weighing the icy silence.
Fourteen seconds.
I breathed deep, the Pearl of Truth parting my thoughts like a beacon in the night. A plan laid out before me, a puzzle unfolding. I closed my eyes: I’d have fourteen seconds once we got to the half-mile mark to descend the jagged shelf of rock, make it past the rip current, and get inside the cave before the next wave came and swallowed me up.
Water slammed into the rocks. My eyes thrust themselves open. I could do this.
Using the barnacle-studded cavities dimpling the side of the bluff for handholds, we climbed up onto the ledge of tide pools positioned above the raging sea—a natural bridge, of sorts.
A blast of salt water sprayed our clothes. I was already drenched, and we were nowhere near the cave. This was going to be a long, cold night. I should have worn my wetsuit.
Scuttlers scurried towards the end of the reef, growling, snapping at our footsteps.
Nemuik waved them off with an irritable huff. “Oh, quiet, ye good-for-nothin’…” A wave breached the natural bridge, snatching a group of them perched on the edge.
With one arm out for balance, the other skimming the wall of dirt that made up the bluff, I trailed behind the dwarf.
The mist grew thicker the farther we crept, curling around our limbs as if it could drag us out to sea. My pulse sped up, thundering in my ears. I didn’t see Nemuik—I could barely see the brittle rock in front of me.
My next step landed on nothing. I caught air, a sharp scream slipping past my lips.
Without thinking, I threw my arms up until my fingers found purchase on the stone, waist and knees slamming into the jagged edge. The sharp rocks bit into my skin, but at least I was able to drag myself up. I peered over the near-invisible recess into the foamy waters below.
“Tere’s te marker.”
I followed Nemuik’s voice until the outline of his braided black beard and leather jacket broke through the fog.
He stood next to a serpent’s head spray-painted onto the crumbling bluff.
“Te sea cave is tere, down below.”
We turned towards the ocean, the coastal haze dispersing long enough for us to make out the arch of the ancient cavern. Its gaping opening seemed to swallow the waves and even the tiny bit of moonlight, trapping them both in its depths.
