"You won't get a free ride! Pay advance first!"
The voice erupted from the Nyr Whale's mouth—sharp, nasally, unmistakably irritated.
An otter Beastkin emerged from between the creature's massive teeth, whiskers twitching with indignation.
Bara's shoulders sagged. A long, weary sigh escaped him. "You weasels are really stingy..."
He snapped his fingers. A younger Beastkin rushed forward, tossing a leather satchel that landed with a heavy
clink at the otter's webbed feet.
"WE ARE OTTERS, YOU FUCKERS!"
The otter's shriek echoed across the black sand beach. Several nearby Beastkin flinched.
Children giggled.
The otter snatched up the satchel, tested its weight, then bit into it to check the coins before nodding curtly.
"Payment accepted. Board quickly. The tide won't wait for your slow asses."
Bara gestured to the waiting refugees. "You heard him. Move."
The Beastkin began filing toward the whale's open maw—mothers clutching children, warriors supporting wounded, everyone moving with the practiced efficiency born from weeks of constant flight.
Violet stood frozen at the water's edge, staring up at the creature.
The Nyr Whale was... impossible. That was the only word her mind could produce.
Its body stretched longer than ten cottages placed end to end, skin gleaming black-silver like oil on water.
Bioluminescent patterns traced along its flanks—spirals and whorls that pulsed with inner light. Its eye, easily the size of Garrett's entire torso, regarded the boarding refugees with what might have been amusement or boredom.
She couldn't tell.
And its mouth—
It's mouth was open. Waiting.
"I can't do this," Eivor whispered beside her, face pale as winter snow. "We're going to die. We're going to get eaten and die and—"
"Come on!"
Vael grabbed both their hands, grin bright as the moon overhead.
His tail wagged with barely contained excitement. "I've always wanted to travel in one of these!"
He pulled them forward before either could protest.
Violet tried to dig her heels into the sand. "Vael, wait, I don't think—"
"Trust me!" His grey eyes sparkled. "It'll be amazing!"
The joy in his voice—raw, genuine, the first real happiness she'd seen from him since Kael died—killed any argument before it could form.
She let herself be dragged toward the whale's mouth.
***
They reached the entrance where an elderly otter Beastkin stood distributing small pills from a woven basket.
"Eat this," she said in a voice like gravel washing over stones. "Unless you want to spend three days vomiting and smelling like fish guts."
She pressed pills into each of their palms—round, slightly damp, smelling faintly of mint and something oceanic.
Violet eyed hers suspiciously. "What's in it?"
"Do I look like an alchemist? It works. That's all that matters." The otter waved them through. "Now move. You're holding up the line."
Vael swallowed his immediately.
Eivor hesitated for three full seconds before following suit, face scrunched in disgust.
Violet placed hers on her tongue. It dissolved instantly—cold spreading down her throat, coating her sinuses with a numbing tingle.
The overpowering fish stench she'd been trying to ignore suddenly... vanished. Just gone, replaced by neutral cool air.
"Huh," she murmured. "Actually works."
They stepped into the whale's mouth.
The transition was immediate and nauseating. One moment, black sand and sunlight.
The next, soft tissue beneath their feet and bioluminescent veins pulsing in the walls around them.
The interior was warm.
The floor gave slightly with each step, like walking on firm gelatin.
Slime coated everything—translucent and slightly glowing—but the pill kept the smell at bay.
An otter guide appeared from deeper within, moving with practiced ease through the organic tunnel. "Follow. Don't touch the walls. Don't fall behind."
They walked for several minutes, descending deeper into the creature's body. The passage branched multiple times, each tunnel identical and disorienting.
Violet lost track of their route almost immediately.
Finally, they reached a junction where four openings gaped in different directions.
"Upper passage," the otter said, pointing at a hole in the ceiling-wall. "Stay together. Don't wander."
"What happens if we take the wrong opening?" Eivor asked, voice small.
The otter's whiskers twitched. "You want to get dissolved into whale crap? Go ahead. Otherwise, follow me."
"I KNEW THIS WAS A BAD IDEA!" Eivor's voice cracked. He grabbed Violet's arm so hard she'd probably have bruises. "We're going to die. We're going to melt. We're—"
"Move or get left behind," the otter said cheerfully, and disappeared up the opening.
Vael scrambled after him without hesitation. Violet pulled Eivor forward before he could spiral further into panic.
The upper passage was steeper, requiring them to climb using embedded ridges in the organic walls.
The texture was wrong—too soft, too alive, pulsing slightly under her fingers.
They emerged into a massive chamber.
Violet's breath caught.
The space was huge, ceiling arching high overhead. But what stopped her wasn't the size.
The otter moved through the darkness, pulling gems from his pouch.
He rubbed each one, and they ignited—soft blue-white light spreading through the chamber like dawn breaking.
One by one, dozens of gems flickered to life, revealing—
Kelp covered the floor like woven carpet—soft, springy, dyed in patterns of green and brown.
Moss climbed the walls in deliberate patches, providing cushioning and insulation.
Wooden arches curved overhead, supporting hanging ropes from which more gems dangled like stars.
Small alcoves dotted the walls—sleeping spaces, storage, areas clearly designed for long occupation.
"This will be your quarters for three days," the otter said, gesturing broadly. "Northern shore, assuming nothing eats us along the way."
"This is..." Violet stepped forward... "How?"
She moved to the far wall and froze.
The walls were translucent, slightly rippling like looking through water. But clear enough to see—
The ocean.
The Nyr Whale glowed—patterns along its skin pulsing in slow rhythm, casting light into the surrounding darkness. And in that light—
Schools of fish swirled past, each one glowing with bioluminescence—blues, greens, purples, colors she had no names for.
Coral forests rose from depths she couldn't fathom, their branches swaying in currents she couldn't feel.
Something massive moved in the distance—just a shadow, but so large it made her stomach clench.
"Beautiful, isn't it?"
The otter appeared at her shoulder. His voice had lost its earlier irritation, replaced by something almost reverent.
"They dwell in deep ocean, mostly. Strange creatures. They use the light to guide each other through darkness most surface dwellers couldn't survive." He tapped the transparent wall. "This pit—everyone calls it a stomach, but that's not quite right. More like... a storage room. For harsh times. Emergency reserves."
He gestured at the chamber. "My people discovered them centuries ago. Made a deal. We provide food when they're hungry. They provide transport when we need it. Symbiotic relationship. Benefits both."
"I see..." Violet pressed her palm against the wall. It was warm.
Slightly giving. She could feel the whale's massive body shifting around them as it swam deeper.
She moved to where the kelp was thickest and sat down.
The carpet was soft, yielding. Cold seeped up through it—not unpleasant, just present. A reminder she was inside something alive.
She laid her head down. Her cheek pressed against moss that smelled faintly of ocean and earth.
The gems overhead cast shifting patterns across the ceiling—light dancing with shadow, never quite still.
Her eyes grew heavy.
The sounds of the chamber faded—Eivor's continued complaints, Vael's excited chatter, Bara's rumbling laughter. All of it distant. Unimportant.
Darkness crept in from the edges of her vision.
And just before sleep claimed her completely, she felt it—the whale's heartbeat. Massive. Slow. Steady as mountains.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
She let it pull her down.
Slowly she opened her eyes only to find herself back in the cottage...
"Papa?"
***
Violet's POV
"Papa..."
"What happened, Littlebird?"
I looked at him where he lay propped against pillows—
half his body still, warm but motionless.
The Winterbeast had taken the embrace that protected us through so many winters.
Taken the strength from limbs that used to lift me effortlessly.
"Are you okay?" My voice came small. Childish. "Do you need anything?"
"I'm fine." But his brows furrowed. "It's been a while since your mother went hunting..."
He looked down at his useless arm, at legs that wouldn't carry him anymore.
Then he reached for his crutch—the one he pretended not to need when I was watching.
He limped to the kitchen. Each step careful. Measured.
He started making supper. Pulled meat from the cold box and began to slice.
Each cut of the knife grew stronger. Heavier. Like the meat in front of him wasn't meat at all but something else entirely.
An outlet of his anger...
I stared at his back—the broad shoulders I'd always found my whole world in, now hunched. Smaller. *Broken*.
"Violet..."
His voice stopped me cold.
"What happened to me?"
He didn't turn. Didn't look at me. Just kept cutting.
"What, Papa?" My heartbeat grew faster and faster, my breaths started slipping like I was falling yet I knew I was standing...
The knife slammed down. Wood cracked beneath it.
"You didn't even return."