Kenna Esters's Arc

Chapter 10 of 13

The river carried Kenna toward the sound of surf. She kept her hands on the oars and let the current do most of the work. The film canister rolled gently at her feet. Trees thinned. Salt touched the air. Somewhere behind her, the island held everything she had seen and everything she had not yet decided to do with it. The river opened into a wide inlet. Bright fish darted beneath a thin skin of algae, scattering as her hull cut through. Stone shelves rose on either side, marking the island's last edge. Beyond them, open sea. Then the bank came alive. Small frogs lined the rocks, their pink frills flared wide. Behind them crouched the moss-green creature, the golden two-tailed cat, and shapes she had not seen before. They did not chase. They watched. Kenna shipped the oars and lifted her camera with cold, steady hands. She framed them against the green wall of the island and pressed the shutter. The flash answered, soft in the daylight. Every frill in the crowd flared back at once, a ring of light along the waterline. She lowered the camera. The creatures held their place as the current pulled her past the stones. Kenna tucked the film canister inside her shirt, against her ribs. The island shrank behind her. She had her shot. Now she only had to live long enough to deliver it.