The starfish gestured to the side of the tide-pool, where a deep mark had been cut into the rock. “What do you make of that?” he asked.
Nin hopped over and studied the gouge—the depth, the width, the angle. “I would say this is the mark of an eagle’s claw.”
Continue readingNin sat on the rocky shore. He had been drawn by the crashing waves, but now lazed idly by the side of a tide-pool, making pleasant conversation with an oyster and a starfish who lived in the shallows.
“I have often thought,” said the oyster, “that beings are ignorant of the true nature of the soul.”
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Crosstown Gate 