The Pebble That Slipped
The warm rain stopped, and Ana felt the last drops slide off her nose. The sea went smooth. River shook his whiskers beside her and blinked at the shine. Ana waded into the shallows, where the sand felt grainy and cool between her toes. Something knocked against her ankle. She reached down and lifted out a small grey pebble, pitted all over like honeycomb. It sat in her palm, heavy for its size, rough on one side and glass-smooth on the other. River pressed his nose to it and made a small pleased sound. "Let's put it back where it sits," Ana said.
River slid off through the shallows and Ana followed, her hands out for balance. The moon lay flat on the water and rocked when she walked. Near the low rocks there was a tide pool, round as a bowl and quiet. Around its rim sat pebbles, every one grey and pitted like honeycomb, pressed there long ago by some patient wave. Ana knelt on the warm stone and counted with her finger. In one place the ring had a gap, a little cup of empty sand. River floated on his back and watched her find it. The pebble in her pocket knocked gently against her hip.
The rocks between were slick with weed that felt like wet ribbon. Ana held the pebble in both hands and stepped slowly, toe first, testing. Halfway across, the pebble slipped and dropped with a small plop into the shallows. River went under at once and came up with it balanced on his chest, whiskers dripping. Ana laughed into her shoulder and took it back. "Let's put it back where it sits," she said. She pressed the pebble into the gap and turned it until the rough side matched the others. The ring closed. The pool held still, and the moon settled in it.
Ana lay back in the warm shallow water with her arms wide. The sea lifted her, slow as breathing, and set her down, and lifted her again. River drifted at her side, one paw touching her sleeve so they would not come apart. Little waves carried them both toward the sand, a hand's width at a time. Her eyes grew heavy. Behind them the tide pool sat full and round, its ring unbroken. "Let's put it back where it sits," Ana said, almost asleep, and the water carried her the last soft way in, and the shore came up to meet her.