Free Urchin and the Rage Tide by M. I. McAllister

or break on the rocks. Yes, Corr, go and look. Stay back from the mists.”
    He watched Corr slide into the water and disappear under the waves. A line of air bubbles rose up. Hearing paws behind him, he turned to see Padra.
    “What happened to Mossberry?” asked Urchin, though he could hardly bear even to say the name.
    “He’s under guard,” said Padra. “He’ll be put in a cell in the tower as soon as there’s a usable one. And we’re keeping his followers apart so they can’t go on telling each other how wonderful he is. I think what happened last night has made a lot of them see differently.”
    “Probably not,” said Urchin harshly. “He said it was a judgment against the island, so they’d just think he was right. Do you think he cares about them? Do you think he cares about Sepia?” Now that he had said her name, he couldn’t stop. “He pretended she was his friend! I should think he’s glad she’s gone, just because she’s a tower squirrel! When did Sepia ever harm anyone?”
    “Urchin,” said Padra gently, “I wish I could help. Talk to me about Sepia whenever you want to.”
    Urchin scanned the sea, peering toward the mists. “You’re talking as if she were dead,” he said. “We saw her hanging on to a boat!”
    “But are you sure that was Sepia?” asked Padra.
    “Of course I’m sure!” said Urchin. “Who else would it be? The animals who died have been washed up. She hasn’t been.”
    “If she is alive,” said Padra gently, “she’s on the other side of the mists. She must be.”
    “Yes, alive on the other side of the mists!” said Urchin fiercely. “And don’t tell me she can never come back, because I’ve got through the mists before, and Sepia will, too!”
    Padra rubbed drying mud from his fur. He hadn’t the heart to contradict Urchin and tell him how unlikely it was that they’d ever see Sepia again, but he couldn’t agree with him, either. Turning to Juniper, he changed the subject.
    “Any more casualties?” he asked.
    “Hedgen and Scuttle the hedgehogs died,” said Juniper. “And Twirl’s aunt Cherry. Shell and Meadow are still alive, and I’ve given orders to take them to the queen, but I don’t know if they’ll come through. We got all the little ones out safely, though.”
    “You see?” said Urchin, not turning his eyes from the sea. “That means Sepia’s the only one not accounted for! Don’t you see, as long as we don’t find a body, there’s hope?”
    Padra stopped brushing his fur. “Urchin,” he said, “if you’re going to cling to that hope, you have to realize that it’s a very frail one. It’s most unlikely that she’s alive. If she is, she’s almost certainly beyond the mists.” He put a paw across Urchin’s shoulders. “We have to face that, Urchin.”
    Urchin shook off his paw.
    “If she’s alive, where is she?” he demanded. “She’ll be alone, in a boat with no food and no fresh water! Not even a dry cloak to keep her warm! Is there a swan left on the island who could fly over the mists?”
    “They’ve all left,” said Padra gently.
    Urchin knelt on the shore. It was as if, by gazing and gazing at the mists, he could make them disperse and show him Sepia.
    Corr swam to shore, shook himself, said, “No sign of anyone, sir, sorry,” and ran to Padra. He knew what he wanted to do next, but he urgently needed to talk to Padra first.

    In the flooded tower, Crispin and Needle waded waist deep through a corridor where seaweed floated on the water and a dead fish drifted past them. Fingal appeared, his fur wet, running up a staircase.
    “All the chambers by the Spring Gate are flooded, Your Majesty,” he said. “So are the lower levels leading to the underground lake, but you can still get there from under the kitchens. I couldn’t get near the Chamber of Candles, but it must be flooded.”
    “All the ground-floor windows are shattered,” said Crispin, “but the Throne Room and the Gathering Chamber have come