My turn.
Heart pounding, I waded to my knees. Saltwater flushed my wetsuit; a shudder lapped up my spine. Before the cold had me second-guessing this decision, I hopped onto the wooden board Freyja had let me borrow and started paddling.
Swallowing a lungful of air, I dipped beneath a wave as it began to topple.
It slammed into the ocean’s surface above me, the power radiating to my back, pushing my board out in front of me.
I flinched, bubbles swirling all around. In these waters, hesitation was deadly, and I knew better than to work against the current.
So, I let it spin me around, let it hold me under for a second longer than was comfortable—it was part of the process, being pushed to the very limit. Just part of the thrill, not knowing if the rush was from excitement or fear.
I thrust my board against my chest and propelled myself upwards, breaking through the choppy surface in one fluid stroke.
“Whoo!” An excited shout ripped out of me.
I barely had enough time for an inhale before I had to dive under again, and another wave crashed directly above.
This was, by far, the most brutal paddle-out I’d ever endured. It must have been twenty-five minutes later when I reached the lineup, my breaths shallow and visible in the cold air. If my hands were any indication, the color must have drained from my face—every limb had gone numb. I couldn’t actually feel the smile on my face, but I knew it was there.
“You made it!” I recognized that voice, but it still surprised me—I hadn’t even heard her swim up next to me over the hollow roar of the ocean.
“And it was nothing short of a miracle.” I opened and closed my mouth like a fish, trying to clear the pressure from my ears. “That was gnarly.”
Freyja laughed, her nose and cheeks tinged red from the cold. “Now comes the fun part.” Eyeing the next set rolling in, she lowered herself onto her board. “I’m taking this one. See you soon!”
She paddled fiercely, then popped up to standing and disappeared under the curl of the wave—along with my view of the shore, the sparkling strip of black sand beach barely visible over the crest.
“Whoo!” I cheered, clapping when she resurfaced and rode the momentum all the way in. Leaning back on my hands, I bobbed on the midnight blue ocean.
Emotion stirred in my chest, mingling with the adrenaline surging through me. The wind rippled off the coast, biting my cheeks, stealing tears as soon as it whipped them up.
Water swirled around me, lapping at the top of my board and pulling at my booties, as if the current were a pair of hands waiting to drag me in.
I felt her here—my mom. In the rugged beauty, in the tumble of the sea.
But most of all, I felt myself. I felt the part of myself I had lost after that night at the Boardwalk, the part that had gone dark. Stirring, waking.
So much shit had happened, it was weird to call myself happy, especially because I was here to stop a war—but that’s what I was, finally back in the waves.
Tilting my head, I gazed at the clouds. No raindrops, but if there was anything I’d learned in my short time here, it was that the weather was not to be trusted.
Small shadows blotted out the moody sky, bolder than a passing cloud—smaller, too, and headed for the pillars of lava stacked along the coastline, the lichen cliffs dotted with flares of bright orange. Puffins, I realized, as another one flew in from the sea.
My stone-cold heart melted right then and there.
Folding my chest onto the deck, I started to paddle, cupping the water in quick, purposeful strokes.
I swerved into position, hands scooping, legs kicking, feeling the ocean’s force building beneath me, until the nose of my board teetered over the top of the wave.
Only at the very last second did I shoot up to my feet and lower into a crouch.
I carved my way into the barrel, a bubbling channel of water trailing my fins. Ducking beneath the curl of the wave, I stuck out my arm, fingers skimming the fluid wall.
Gaze fixed ahead, mind focused on the glide, I could have sworn something hovered in my periphery, that something was watching me—but that was ridiculous, I was in the middle of the ocean.
Still, the hairs rose on the back of my neck.
Maybe my leash had come undone and was flapping around in the froth. Careful not to tilt the board, I stole a quick glance at my feet—and the Velcro still strapped around my ankle—then at the dark blue tube spiraling around me.
