Blackwater Islands Nevermind an SMS.

sobeille stood where the crashing sea lapped at open sand, staring at the island in the distance. her maman had made this journey once, when she was about sobeille’s age.

it was a pilgrimage sobeille must complete.

an hour later, sobeille sat on the island’s shore, drenched and exhausted but alive. she brushed the saltwater from her eyes and kicked her hind legs out in front of her, listening to the buzz of insects and the squall of birds as she caught her breath.

somewhere here, was something profoundly important. only, sobeille had no idea what — or who — it was.