Gar’dumor’s Truth (A Drabble Series, Part 8)

There’s something strange here.

The trickster-current slaps us deeper into the island, but no welts appear. I tuck my legs in for balance, and the broken two feel stronger. Mended already?

“Could this be Cal’s mischief?” I grope at the algae tumbling with me, blue as the god’s moon. “Some kind of jest or…test?”

“If it is, we’re giving him a great show.” Demitra grins, tightening her grip on my right pincer.

I mean to say more, but the current yanks us around a corner, then spits us into a fall.

It’s the screams, though, that truly silence me.