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Turtle wakes up to a muffled boom that shakes the walls of his room. He stares at the ceiling for a moment, watching the shadows of palm trees rustle across his trembling ceiling, before he drags himself out of bed, bare feet on the worn-smooth wooden floorboards. He reaches for the cloak crumpled on his dresser and wraps himself up, movements sluggish with sleep, and slips out the door.
This is so stupid, he tells himself, climbing off the porch and onto the sandy expanse of the beach. A cloud passes over the moon, everything dipped in inky darkness as his eyes adjust.
What on EARTH are you doing, he thinks fervently, as he walks towards the dark lump near the waterline.
When he gets closer, he can see the lump shift, unfolding into two smaller shapes, and the first reaches towards the second. Turtle’s footsteps hit the incoming waves just as the cloud finishes its transit and the moonlight floods back, and Turtle’s breath catches in his throat.
There’s a boy staring back at him, wide brown eyes set in a dark, freckled face, hair that gleams copper under the moonlight. His hands are clenched protectively around the person slumped in his grip, their features a blur aside from tangled hair and a sliver of a mouth, pressed tight in pain.
“Who are you?” the boy asks. His eyes travel over Turtle as his grip tightens. “Where are we?”
“An off-season residence of SeaWing royalty,” Turtle answers. He takes a half step back, stupid, stupid, just leave them and get out and keep your head down, before his stupid mouth betrays him and he says, “Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine,” the boy says, before he falters and glances down at the bundle in his arms. “Sora’s hurt. Can you help?”
I shouldn’t, Turtle worries to himself, wringing his hands together. He glances back in the direction of his family’s complex, lit dimly around the edges with lanterns. He glances back at the two. “Maybe. I have medical supplies, come with me.”
“Okay,” the boy agrees. It's surprisingly quick, with how wary he is, and Turtle wonders what must have happened, to make him so desperate. Turtle glances at him out of the corner of his eye and almost asks if this situation is as awkward for him as it is for Turtle.
The boy gathers himself and Sora and follows Turtle up the beach to his room, a standalone structure set a ways apart from the rest of his family. He picked it so he could listen to the waves at night, but now it works to hide the three from questioning eyes. When they get there, Turtle shutters all his windows and doors and throws curtains over them before lighting a lamp. The boy watches him wordlessly, before laying Sora down on the floor, gently cradling her head so it doesn’t hit the boards. Turtle fetches his medical kit from a drawer, and kneels next to him.
“How is she hurt?” Turtle asks, wincing as he hears the tremor in his voice. He looks down at his kit worriedly—most of it is for common injuries at sea, coral scrapes and shell cuts, insect bites and bruises.
“I think her arm is broken,” the boy answers, and for the first time Turtle hears fear sneak into his voice.
“Oh,” Turtle flashes him a nervous smile. “I know how to set that. It’ll be fine, here—”
And so they get to work. Sora seems half-conscious through the whole thing, eyes tightly shut but shifting and gasping every once in a while. The boy watches her worriedly and combs gentle fingers through her hair as Turtle fastens the last of the bandages.
Sora , he thinks. Either a MudWing or a SkyWing name. Either way, too young to be this far from home and injured.
“There we go,” he says. He breathes out, shaky, and stumbles to his feet to put the medical kit away. “You can put her on the bed.”
It’s not like I’ll be sleeping anytime soon after all that. Why did I do that, again?
“Thank you,” the boy says quietly. When Turtle turns back, he’s sitting on the floor next to the lamp, watching him. “Sora’s my sister. My name is Umber. What’s yours?”
Umber is definitely a MudWing name. What on earth are two MudWing siblings doing out here, without the rest of their squad, injured and alone? Turtle has the sudden, vivid feeling that he’s stumbled into something he doesn’t want to be involved in. There goes his boring, nice little life of being perfectly mediocre. Goodbye to his normal, quiet, unimportant self.
He gives Umber a weak smile. “My name is Turtle. Nice to meet you, Umber.”
Umber smiles back.
Dawn creeps up on them, sitting side-by-side in slightly awkward silence. Just before the sun peeks above the horizon, Sora wakes with a gasp.
“Sora!” Umber cries, scrambling over to his sister. He clasps her hand between his, muttering thank the moons over and over again.
“Um,” Turtle says nervously. “I’m gonna go get food.”
Sora looks at him with narrowed eyes. Turtle fidgets nervously and turns to look at Umber instead, who’s watching him with an equally unreadable but slightly less hostile expression. He nods, and Turtle excuses himself from his own room as quickly as possible.
It’s a short trek over to the kitchens, where two of the cooks are already up and preparing meals. Both have served on this island as long as Turtle can remember, and they offer him warm smiles when he approaches.
“Um. I’ll have breakfast in my room today. And uh—could you get me extra food? I’m, uh, pretty hungry.”
“Of course, Your Highness,” one of them answers. Her name is Scallop, and she’s the only one who still addresses every single one of the royal children by title, when most only remember the princesses. She used to give Turtle extra crab at dinner when he was younger, but now she mostly tries to sneak him alcohol. He likes her a lot.
The younger is Starfish, a retired soldier with scars lining his face and a missing pinky. He scarcely speaks, but every year for Turtle’s birthday, he gives him a new pen. They sit in a fancy stand on Turtle’s windowsill, even though he rarely writes anymore.
Starfish gives him a look, and places three pieces of bread on the tray Scallop hands him. He gives it to Turtle with a raised eyebrow.
“I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing,” Turtle blurts out, hit with the sudden feeling that Starfish is reading his mind.
Starfish shakes his head. “Did a background check. Wait for results.”
Turtle absolutely refuses to ask. Why does Starfish still have intelligence contacts? How does he know? What does he think about Turtle? Nope, nope, nope, nope, nope.
“Thanks,” Turtle says, and hastily escapes.
By the time he makes it back to his room, Sora and Umber are crouched together on the porch, heads bent together as they whisper to each other. They stop when he comes within earshot, and he awkwardly holds up the tray of food.
“Thank you,” Umber says. He sniffs a piece of bread subtly before he takes a bite and passes it to his sister. Turtle turns his head in the other direction and very politely does not comment on his paranoia.
He picks at his own food, nibbling on the seaweed and fruit. He’s grateful when the siblings finish, because he stands and uses returning the tray to the kitchens as an excuse to escape.
“Wait,” Sora says, dry and raspy. Turtle stops a half-step away and turns. “What are you going to do with us?”
“Um,” Turtle fidgets. “Nothing. Or, I mean—you can… do whatever? You can stay in my room I guess, I’ll get blankets. You’re hurt, so—uh… yeah.”
“You won’t turn us in?” Umber asks.
“Do I need to?” he questions nervously. “I don’t really know who you are, and there’s not really anyone to report to…”
“No,” Umber says firmly. “No, you don’t need to turn us in. We’ll be out of your hair soon, but—thanks.”
“Ri-ight,” Turtle stammers. “I’m gonna… I have things to do this morning, so I’ll be back? I guess?”
“Sure,” Umber says, and he even sounds a little amused. “See you.”
For the third time that morning, Turtle scuttles away from an awkward situation as fast as possible. He returns the tray to the kitchens, receives a quick and equally awkward debrief from Starfish, makes a quick escape to the docks, and promptly bumps into Tsunami.
“Baby brother!” she crows when she sees him, loud and obnoxious. Several nearby birds scatter in alarm. She throws an arm around his shoulders and drags him into a hug. “How’s it going?”
“I don’t think I like having an older sister,” Turtle says, wrinkling his nose. A month ago, he would have rather died before saying that to the returned missing princess. Now, he says it because he knows Tsunami will find it hilarious.
Tsunami laughs, delighted. Her grip is warm and strong, and Turtle returns the hug carefully. There’s the faint, earthy scent of a freshwater river clinging to her hair, and he wonders where she’s been.
“How long have you been stuck out here?” Tsunami asks, waving a hand around. “Have you heard about all the drama on the mainland?”
“A while,” Turtle shrugs. “It’s nice. There’s almost never anyone else around here.”
The island is actually quite busy every season of the year—servants and workers keeping things running smoothly for whenever SeaWing royalty feels like dropping by. They both know he’s actually referring to their family.
“Three moons, tell me about it,” Tsunami snorts. “I just escaped mother’s clutches. She’s been so huffy lately, I think Anemone did something to upset her.”
Turtle doesn’t say anything to that, but he thinks to himself, very quietly, even within the safety of his own mind, Good for you, Anemone.
“The IceWing prince is missing,” Tsunami says, startling Turtle out of his thoughts. He stares at her. “Oh yeah, for real. The royal family is supposed to be keeping it hush-hush or whatever but it’s spreading quickly.”
“Prince Hailstorm?” Turtle asks.
“No, second one,” Tsunami shrugs. “If you ask me, I think he just got bored and up and left. I don’t know how Anemone does it.”
Turtle thinks back to the two MudWings hiding in his room, and asks Tsunami, “How long ago?”
“Eh, almost three weeks,” she answers. She scratches at her neck absently, and Turtle notices a new necklace joining her collection, white leather and opal. “Then the IceWing princess was almost assassinated just recently. A few days ago… three? Four?”
“What? ” Turtle yelps.
“She gave me a very pretty necklace though!” Tsunami bares her teeth and holds up the piece of jewelry that had caught Turtle’s eye. Her mouth tips back into a contemplative frown, “And I almost caught the assassin, too… coward.”
“It’s smart, though,” Turtle blurted, before his brain could catch up to his mouth. “Assassination, I mean—it might be cowardly, but it’s smart.”
Tsunami scowled. “I guess you’re right. That’s the difference between us, I guess. You’re the smart one.”
“I couldn’t beat a guppy in a fight,” Turtle points out. “And you’re plenty smart anyway.”
“Of course,” Tsunami’s grin is sharp. She gives Turtle a little push in the direction of her boat, a beautiful blue thing with massive sails that Tsunami claims is the best, smoothest craft around. Secretly, Turtle thinks it’s almost as temperamental as her. “I brought fish, and I don’t feel like seeing whichever one of our distant cousins is around if we go to the kitchens, so you can help me roast them.”
“Thanks,” Turtle sighs, sounding more put-upon than he actually feels.
Between the two of them they haul her catch to the beach, just out of sight of the main complex, and start a small campfire. Tsunami eats her way through almost a full net and regales Turtle with all of the things she ran into on the mainland, while Turtle watches in morbid fascination.
It’s a nice morning. As much as Tsunami is still mostly a mystery to him, a little too loud for his comfort and a little too brash, he likes spending time with her. She’s what he wishes he would be when he was younger, strong and confident and a real hero. And despite her general contempt for their family, she seems to be alright with him. Him, out of all of their brothers and cousins and an ocean full of people.
“Did you need anything from here?” Turtle asks, when they’ve stamped out the campfire and are burying the ashes.
“Nah, just came here to find you,” Tsunami says. It’s so casual that Turtle almost misses it, and when his brain catches up he freezes. No one’s ever gone anywhere just for him before.
“Thanks,” he manages through a tight throat. “I missed you.”
“Shut up ,” Tsunami punches him in the shoulder, a crooked smile on her face. “You’re just like Clay. Too sappy.”
Before she leaves, she hands him a scroll she calls boring nerd stuff that seems to be Starflight’s latest essay on a weirdly obscure topic. Despite her words, Turtle can see the creases where the scroll has been rolled and unrolled, a nick in the wooden edge, and a place where a tiny bit of salt water splashed on the first few inches. She probably read it herself on the way here.
He helps her untie her boat even though he’s not needed, watches her handle the ropes and sails and finds it hard to imagine that she grew up without sailing her whole life. He watches as she rows past the breakers and her sails fill with wind, and just before she sails out of earshot she turns and yells back.
“I missed you too, Turtle! Don’t be dumb while I’m gone!”
He doesn’t think he could yell loud enough to reach her if he tried, but he waves until she becomes a little smudge against the blinding sea.
At a loss for what to do, Turtle wanders back to his room. He’s not quite sure he wants to know what his next interaction with the two siblings will bring, but he can’t very well avoid his own room forever.
Umber greets him in the doorway when he arrives, and Turtle catches a glimpse of folded paper that he tucks into a pocket.
“Welcome back,” Umber says. He glances sideways at Sora. “We should tell you why we’re here.”
“You should? ” Turtle asks. “I mean, I’m not exactly… well, I’m me.”
“And you saved us,” Umber points out. “It’s not… it’s not that bad. You’re curious, aren’t you?”
“It’s pretty bad,” Sora cuts in. Her voice is soft, but still rough. It’s almost a whisper when she repeats, head tucked down, “it’s pretty bad.”
“No, it isn’t,” Umber says. He sits next to his sister and puts an arm around her, worry twisting his face above her head where she can’t see. “Turtle, you might want to sit down. It’s a bit of a story.”
Oh dear, Turtle thinks, very emphatically. What on earth have I gotten myself into?
“You know how—you know how MudWings normally have more siblings than us two?”
Turtle has a sinking feeling that he knows where this is going. He nods.
“We had a big sister, and her name was Crane.”
Sora buries her face in her hands and starts taking deep, deliberate breaths.
“A couple years back, she was killed by an IceWing soldier,” Umber says. Sorrow colors his voice, and drips almost tangibly between his words, but he’s remarkably calm, especially compared to his sister. The only visible sign of his grief is how tight his hands are clenched. “And a few months ago, we found out that soldier was the IceWing princess.”
“Oh,” Turtle says. He knows where this is going now.
“We don’t want to cause trouble,” Umber says quietly. “So we’ll leave as soon as we can. But I think you deserve to know, for saving us.”
“You know,” Turtle feels compelled to point out, “if you guys get caught, this looks worse on me. That I knew. Just saying.”
“Oh,” Umber echoes his earlier reaction. He looks a little guilty. “I didn’t think of that.”
“It’s fine,” Turtle responds, shaking his head. “Thanks… thanks for telling me, I guess. You guys—where are you heading next?”
“The Scorpion Den, probably,” Umber says. “Lots of criminals there, no one will notice an extra few war orphans, MudWing or not.”
“I’m the only criminal here,” Sora murmurs, arms wrapped around herself. “You should have let them catch me.”
“No way,” Umber protests. “I can’t lose another sibling, Sora.”
Sora shakes her head, and Turtle gets the feeling that this is an argument they’ve had many times before. Umber frowns, and looking at that expression he’s suddenly hit with the strangest sense of deja vu. He’s never seen Umber before, he’s sure of it, so where …?
“Sora,” Umber says gently. “Sibs stick together, remember? I need you.”
Sora makes a muffled sound that sounds like a sob in response.
“You might want to try the rainforest instead,” Turtle says, as softly as he can manage. He casts a worried look at Sora. “They have calming medicine and… stuff like that. I have a friend I can refer you to.”
“Yeah,” Umber says sadly. “We’ll go outside, I don’t want to kick you out of your own room again. Sora, can you stand?”
“Yes,” Sora whispers. Her hair hides most of her face, but Turtle thinks she turns in his direction when she mumbles, “sorry.”
“Would you mind contacting your friend?” Umber asks him. “I’m sorry to ask so much of you. But would you, please?”
“I mean, I offered, so yeah,” Turtle answers. “I’ll just… do that then.”
Underneath his bed, hidden behind a collection of seashells and a stack of scrolls, buried at the bottom of a dusty box, lies a dark grey writing slate. Once the two siblings have left his room, he pulls it out along with a stick of chalk, and then hesitates.
Hi, he finally scrawls across it. Met someone who needs calming medicine/treatment. Can Glory take them?
He waits a moment, just staring at the slate, before he shakes himself. He’s being stupid, there’s no way she’ll answer right away.
But, just as he’s about to set it aside, scribbles appear on the other side.
Hi Turtle! Duh, of course. Can you bring them next week?
Yeah, he writes back. Then adds, thank you.
In the tiny space left at the bottom of the slate, the words ‘of course’ and a smiley face squeeze their way in. Turtle smiles down at the slate and wipes it clean, before leaving a little smiley face of his own in the corner. He sets it down by his bed and stands to check on the siblings.
Sora looks like she’s sleeping, huddled into herself against the wall. Umber is crouched by her side, but when he hears Turtle approaching he stands up, although his eyes don’t leave her. Turtle watches him for a moment, faintly worried despite himself.
“Is she… okay?” Turtle asks.
“Yes,” Umber answers, but he doesn’t sound certain. “She has episodes like this. I wish I knew how to help her, I’ve never—”
He sighs, short and frustrated.
Turtle shrugs and offers him an awkward smile. “I don’t really know what to do with my sisters either. I know it’s not the same, but you seem like a good brother. For what it’s worth.”
“Thank you,” Umber says, voice soft. “I hope so.”
There’s a slightly awkward pause, where neither of them are quite sure what to do, before Umber shuffles his feet and crouches down again.
“I’m going to move Sora back into the room,” he says. “Can we, um. Go on a walk, or something? I don’t know what to do around here…”
“Oh—” Turtle squints into the air, trying to remember who’s around at this time of day. “A walk should be fine, if we go counterclockwise around the island. There are some coconut trees that way.”
“Coconut!” Umber lights up. “I’ve never had a fresh one. Are they good?”
The other boy seems to struggle a bit to fully support Sora’s weight, but he makes it through the door and sets her on the bed gently. He smooths her hair back with soft fingers, a gesture of casual familial care that looks so achingly foreign to Turtle, and closes the door.
“Let’s go!” Umber says, smiling. He still looks a bit worried, faint bags under his eyes and creases on his forehead, but his eyes are bright. “Lead the way, Turtle.”
“You should smile more,” he blurts out. “I mean—yeah. You look happier that way.”
“Oh,” Umber looks startled, before his smile widens a little. “Okay.”
Embarrassed, Turtle turns around and begins walking, Umber following close behind him. They walk in silence for a bit, Umber clearly preoccupied with adjusting to walking on sand and Turtle too absorbed in his distressed thoughts to say anything else. It’s only when Turtle’s room has disappeared, around a jut of rock and overgrown mangroves, that Umber finally breaks the silence.
“Did you manage to reach your friend?” he asks. His voice is even and polite, but his eyes shine with hope and a little desperation.
“I did,” Turtle answers. “She says next week. It’s about a day’s trip by small sailboat, so counting today you only have five days left here.”
You’ll be gone soon, he doesn’t say. With your strange problems and strange smiles that I’m starting to like, a little. You don’t have to be stuck with me.
“You’ll be with us, right?” Umber asks immediately. “You don’t—have to, you’ve done so much for us already. But Sora and I can’t sail, and I trust you.”
Turtle stares at him for a moment, and feels like he’s falling into something he won’t be able to claw his way out of. If he says yes, there’s no going back to a quiet life. He’s certain of it, for a reason he can’t quite place.
“Alright,” he says.
Umber positively beams back at him, bright and radiant. His freckles scrunch together on the bridge of his nose, one of his teeth is a little pointier than the others, and Turtle finds himself unable to look away.
“Oh—” Umber whips around suddenly, “look Turtle, the coconuts!”
Turtle scrambles to catch up as he takes off across the beach, stumbling a little clumsily over the uneven ground and occasional driftwood. There’s the hint of a smile still on his face, and Turtle chases it across the sand and into the beyond.