Water to Water
by Karen A. Wyle
Genre: Science Fiction
Two young Vushla questioned what everyone knew about death. What should
they do with the answer?
they do with the answer?
When the time comes for
Vushla to die, they go into the ocean and are dissolved away. Or so
Terrill has always believed, and still believes after taking part in
his father's final journey. But when he meets a young Vushlu who
lives by the sea, Terrill must confront information that calls this
fundamental belief into question. Will the two of them discover
the truth? And what should they do with what they find?
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Kititit
looked at different Vushla in turn as he told the story about buying a beast
from a giant and tricking the fellow into lowering the price. The Vushla’s
armor mostly left their faces bare, so you could see them drink the story in,
especially the young ones. All right, maybe his mate’s uncle’s cousin wasn’t
exactly a giant, but he was big enough that none of his neighbors gave him any
backtalk. Kititit had come out of that exchange well enough to enjoy bragging
about it, even if he did embellish the details a bit for effect.
It
was a fine way to spend an evening. It would have been, even if the breeze
hadn’t been a trifle nippy. He’d always liked campfires, but he particularly
enjoyed them in villages like this. Vushlu armor wasn’t exactly reflective, but
almost, enough to catch the firelight and play with it a bit. And while he
always liked the smell of a campfire, it mingled especially nicely with the
unique tangy smell of the sea. As for the traces of fish odor, he didn’t mind
them. He did wonder, looking around at the Vushla, how much of it all they
could smell with those small holes in their faces. His big mesh-covered
nostrils had to do a better job, unless they somehow didn’t.
He
caught the fisher lad’s eye for just a moment before the lad looked away. A bit
shy, that one, but with thirsty ears, always soaking in whatever story Kititit
chose to tell. Kititit’s oldest son had been like that, when he was a good bit
younger. And when the boy and his sister had come with Kititit on his journeys,
there had been plenty of time for telling tales.
Naturally
the boy, or rather the proud young father, had started staying home now that he
had a mate and little ones. And Kititit’s daughter, once proud to be included,
had lately been more like willing. A good-hearted lass, ready to help her
father in case he was too old and feeble to handle things alone; but it was
time for her to live in the center of her own life, and Kititit to go back to
how he used to travel, enjoying his own and the beast’s company.
Still,
it was nice to have a youngster or two around the campfire.
Karen A. Wyle was born a Connecticut Yankee, but eventually settled in
Bloomington, Indiana, home of Indiana University. She now considers
herself a Hoosier. Wyle's childhood ambition was to be the youngest
ever published novelist. While writing her first novel at age 10, she
was mortified to learn that some British upstart had beaten her to
the goal at age 9.
Bloomington, Indiana, home of Indiana University. She now considers
herself a Hoosier. Wyle's childhood ambition was to be the youngest
ever published novelist. While writing her first novel at age 10, she
was mortified to learn that some British upstart had beaten her to
the goal at age 9.
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