Kenna Esters's Arc

Chapter 11 of 13

The open sea took the rowboat with a slow, heavy lift. Kenna pulled the oars in and let the swell carry her. The film canister rested warm against her ribs. She thought of the offer waiting on the other side of this water — a name, a check, a magazine spread that could change everything. She thought of what those pictures would invite back to the island if she sent them. The choice sat in her chest like a second heartbeat. She pictured the storefront she had walked past a hundred times back home. The big publisher's window, plastered with a soaked, crinkled nature magazine blown up to the size of a door. Bright animals. Bold letters. Her name could sit on a cover like that. Then she pictured the small green-backed creature with the long, bristly tail, the one that had stolen her camera and given it back. She pictured boots in its trees. Saw blades. Trucks where its river ran. Kenna opened the canister. She slid one frame of film out, the negative of the island's edge, and held it over the water. Her hand shook. Then she tucked it back inside and sealed the lid tight. She would deliver the photographs — but not to the publisher. She would find someone who could use them to protect the island, not sell it. The rowboat lifted again, and for the first time since the wreck, she knew exactly what the shot was for.