Small Comforts

“This is as far as I can take you,” the Storm King had told them.  “From here, the storms are wild.”

He was not wrong.

The darkness came in waves, huge crashing walls of sound and water, what light there was bright and violent.  Becca’s tears were whipped into the fury, raindrops now, stolen by the storm.

“Child,” said the Sky Whale.  “You will be safe with me.”

It guided her to a crook under its fin, a shelter from the terrible night.  Becca curled up, shivering, listening to the muted chaos and the ancient rumble of her friend’s heart.


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