Serthe’P scuttled sideways towards her burrow’s entrance, a narrow tunnel that led to the surface. She could hear the howling winds above, roaring waves like the sound of the world breaking. Inherited and lived memories tugged at the life-water in her body, her carapace shivering. 

The soft hush of shifting sand worried Serthe’P as she dodged the trickling mud pooling near her eight legs. She raised her claws and with her fully-formed one on her right, snapped a rhythm to calm her nerves. With her remaining left eye, she stared at the entrance, willing Mnth’R to emerge safely from the electrifying atmosphere above. 

Come home, come home, my love. 

Be safe from this storm. 

Uncertainty was the ever-lasting season that every Ketam Timur was born into—perhaps it was the same for every creature here—and it wasn’t an environment they could acclimate to. To try took daily effort. Serthe’P was no stranger to how suddenly a moment could turn, anxiety morphing into an emergency. When your loved one wasn't beside you in a world full of violent shifts, it was hard to not give in to the storms broiling within.

Come home.

Serthe’P stopped her snapping, her vision blurring with mucus sadness. She shook herself vigorously, willing patience as she waited in her small burrow at the edge of Ketam Timur Cast's territory. Always at the edge, away from everyone. This isolation, their safety and their danger. 

If only Serthe’P had been able to fit in, maybe she could have protected—No. This thought was dangerous. Mnth’R had helped her understand that their isolation had more to do with the Raja’s exploitation of their cast’s fears than any shortcomings of theirs, his Manifest Sight propaganda curdling climate anxieties into prejudice against community members. Serthe’P needed to remember that their lives mattered too much to be reduced by a tyrant’s ideology. Separated from the cast, they were still finding ways to take care of each other.

A familiar sound interrupted Serthe’P’s ruminations, her eye widening at the tip of its stalk while the stump of the other one itched, a phantom reflex. She scuttled around to face the entrance at a distance, making room.

Please, oh please.

Mnth’R stumbled into the burrow, a rush of sand following her small body adorned with defensive driftwood for her surface run, heavy and wet from the pelting rains. Both her claws gripped tightly to two net-bags, tendrils of sea grass sticking out almost bursting from them. She made it! Serthe’P clicked.

She stopped herself from crowding Mnth’R, who wobbled awkwardly back on her feet, the entrance now shut with salty mud and wet sand. They could both feel the currents crashing against the shore above. Mnth’R bubbled and gurgled a series of sighs and gasps, each sound she made melting Serthe’P’s most urgent worries away.

Mnth’R carefully set aside the net-bags and gave her claws a delicate twirl before spinning around to face Serthe’P, emitting a low guttural hum, tapping and shaking with frustration. With her claws, she signed, I’m sorry about the entrance, sayang. I’ll fix that soon.

Serthe’P angled her body to scuttle sideways towards her beloved, turning to face the smaller adult, her large claw gently reaching out for one of Mnth’R’s. She signed back as best as she could with one claw, supplementing with the taps, gurgles, and clicks she could make with her legs and mouth.

It's okay, my love. We can dig a new tunnel. I'm just relieved you're back! I got worried when I heard the storm.

Mnth’R let Serthe’P finish what she was saying, even though that level of self-control can be a challenge for her when anxious. But all she had wanted in the last hour was to be back home, here, with Serthe'P. She owed it to herself to just be here, with Serthe'P's grounding presence.

This storm, Mnth’R started then paused, lifting her eye stalks to indicate the surface above the burrow, carefully crafted and designed by Serthe’P, reinforced with thin sheets of weed leather that kept the walls waterproof and sturdy against unpredictable weather. 

Did you sense it at all?

Serthe’P shook her body from side to side. I couldn’t sense this one. If I did, I would’ve asked you to stay.

Mnth’R nodded her eye stalks. She had no doubt in Serthe’P’s care or skills, but she was worried that despite her partner’s hyper-sensitivities, such a big storm could still sneak up on them. It feels different, this storm. Yet so familiar, like I’ve lived through it before. I could feel it in my belly, in my carapace.

Serthe’P nodded. Old, ancestral memories swirled in their bodies, seeping in from the charged air of this storm. A crack of thunder resounded above. They were both high on alert for something to change, again, from what the weather brought in.

I’m just grateful you’re home, my love, Serthe’P signed.

Mnth’R held Serthe’P’s claw more firmly and with all eight legs on the ground, she began swaying gently from side to side. Serthe’P joined in the swaying. Rocking sideways together, affirming their love and partnership with each other—I move as one with you, you move as one with me, as one we face the world and the world makes space for us. The sounds of the great big fight between sea and sky with the earth caught in between subsided into the background as they entered the trance of their union dance. Affirming the comfort of home, their home.

Serthe’P signed, You must be exhausted, my love. Shall we rest for the night? Do you need to consume or shed anything?

Mnth’R thought about it, realizing she still had on her driftwood armor. Let me get out of this gear. I'll bring some bits of raw sea grass into the cubby. We can cuddle while nibbling, I know you haven't eaten today.

Serthe’P wanted to say, that part was not important. What was more important was that Mnth'R was here, back home, with her. This was the only safe place Serthe’P knew, could ever know. But all this was too complicated to sign with her one claw, especially as fatigue began weighing down on her. So she didn’t argue. 

She nodded, Come, let me help you shed this gear.

When Mnth’R stirred awake with her eyestalks sprouting and winking out of deep slumber, there was quiet. Too much quiet. She shifted each eye to look around the cubby, searching for Serthe’P’s familiar shape, but she was alone. She gurgled a displeased sound. 

Serthe’P hadn’t admitted her sleep troubles, but Mnth’R was aware. She could see it took a long while for Serthe’P’s eyestalk to relax enough to shrink into slumber, which worried Mnth’R given that the only time Serthe’P felt safe to be on the surface was between the last dark and first light. So she needed what rest she could get, but Mnth’R couldn’t bring this up with her. She didn’t know how when she too was keeping her nightmares a secret.

She shuddered. At least the storm had overshadowed the cruel memories her body carried, and last night’s sleep was more restful for it. She vigorously hoped that Serthe’P at least had sweet dreams whenever she found sleep.

Mnth’R’s sore muscles throbbed under her carapace as she tentatively lifted herself to stretch, feeling for any injuries. She could sense old cracks on her back, patched up now with a fibrous pulp that dried solid, invention of Serthe’P that healed and protected Mnth’R’s small body against the elements, healing it from worse. If only the rest of their cast could appreciate her work, Serthe’P’s creativity could save lives! It saved hers.

She found a wrap around her third left leg, a dried strip of woven fiber holding something sticky against Mnth’R’s joint there. She must’ve strained it while navigating the sharp rocks and horrible winds last night. 

Serthe’P had quietly tended to her while she slept. Mnth’R bubbled in gratitude. 

Serthe’P wouldn’t have been gone long. Mnth’R shifted herself out the cubby and began sorting away the harvested sea grass, wanting to reduce the burrow chores so Serthe’P could rest up when she came back.

The usual cluster of juveniles were out and about under the soft pink glow of a yawning dawn. Serthe’P waved over to one of them who, like her, was born with a deformed claw and a larger build that didn’t fit their assigned sex-cast. 

She had named them Bant’P when they first met, still new to their land-form. Not orphaned like Serthe’P, but rejected by their parents and casted out for being different, for wanting to live as their truth. This practice of abandonment had been increasing lately, with the Raja’s encouragement. 

Bant’P waved back, signed to their cluster of mostly orphaned juveniles, then side-scuttled with impressive speed across the remnants of last night’s storm to greet Serthe’P. Peace peace!

Serthe’P signed back, shortening her phrases so she could keep up with the youngster. Peace. Any trouble with storm?

Bant’P signed, keeping their claw aligned with where Serthe’P’s eyestalk was pointed to, We’re mostly okay, just shaken. Lost one friend this time. Half of our shelter needs re-tunneling, but with plenty of food and materials to scavenge, we’ll be okay. What a weird storm, it felt different, almost like it was a dream. Are you okay?

Serthe’P nodded. 

Mnth’R got home safely from her run?

Serthe’P nodded again. 

What relief. Bant’P darted a look around, their eyestalks moving independently to scan the territory for any cast adults. Looks quiet, want to join us scavenging?

Serthe’P looked around, the pink blush of new morning still in the sky and ocean water receded significantly to reveal abundance underneath the wreckage. Mnth’R had risked her life last night to replenish their sea grass supply. Despite being a bigger build, her deformed claw made her next to useless when harvesting or collecting from the surface. Now that she had only one eyestalk, she was less good at tasks above ground. 

But she was very good at building and designing tools, medicinal concoctions, even housing materials to fortify burrows, skills she began teaching Bant’P and the juveniles who were patient enough for her lessons during these quiet hours. 

Don’t worry, Bant’P signed after Serthe’P’s pause, We’ll keep look-outs and I’ll help return you to burrow if cast adults come by.

Serthe’P thought, now I’m worrying this sweet child. But Serthe’P was also deeply touched, remembering how she was with her adopted guardian Arwa’Lan. An old Ketam Utara, so different from her with how he needed to travel and trade for a shell to wear just to survive. How this shell would change as he aged, until it was time for him to return to the waters and she back to the Ketam Timur Cast she came from. In the short time they knew each other, she too had wanted to do all she could to protect the adult crab who cared for her. 

Serthe’P emitted a low affectionate hum and nodded to Bant’P, letting the little one lead her away from her burrow entrance, her thoughts and feelings anchored to home while her awareness stretched against her anxiety. A glimmer of joy sparked in her heart, filling her limbs and muscles with warmth as her full body met the day’s first light, the ocean waves whispering in its own secret language nearby.

Serthe’P joined the juveniles in their scavenging, showing them how to check for edible grass and meats, picking materials they could easily carry back for armor and home-crafting. She couldn’t carry anything since she needed her claw to communicate, so a few of the juveniles insisted on helping. Serthe’P asked them to carry small, light materials for her.

Of all the cast adults to be patrolling the margins of Timur territory, it had to be Prt’T. One of Raja’s guards, a crony. 

Mnth’R held special rage for this one, rage she had till now kept tamed and under wraps. Though she admitted to herself that despite their species’ need for numbers to claim territory, she was getting less and less tolerant of staying quiet in the presence of brutes, just to have a burrow anywhere with access to sand, food, and water. 

Mnth’R had ventured out through the new tunnel Serthe’P made. The sensations underneath her carapace told her that morning was in full bloom, and Serthe’P had not yet returned. That alerted Mnth’R that something might’ve happened. Her driftwood armor was still damp and too heavy to lift by herself as it lay sunk in a muddy corner of the burrow. So she had plucked one of Serthe’P’s experiments from her work-pit—a long-ish rock with sharpened edges meant for carving wood—and kept it firmly in one claw as she climbed up. 

Once surfaced, she shoveled sand over the hole at an angle the way Serthe’P taught her, scurrying backwards and forwards and all around so that the slight dent looked more organic against the rest of the land’s textures. The sand was slightly damp from yesterday’s rain, so she had to work carefully, the excess debris helping her leave a mark she could read for when she needed to come home.

Prt’T’s presence only served to spike her hyper-vigilance as she searched, instinctively scuttling toward the water parts where outcasts usually scavenged. She had spotted the large male crab skulking slowly in the opposite direction, and her eye stalks bent towards each other in a display of anger as she raised the rock in her claw, hissing threateningly.

Prt’T’s eye stalks grew long and wide for a moment before mirroring Mnth’R’s aggressive stance. The last time they were in a similar position, she had been helpless and he had others with him. Including Mnth’R’s former parent, a fool for the Raja who despite all the ways he endangered her, still ended up casted out when Mnth’R refused his coercion into forced mating, casting herself out to the margins to live as partners with her true beloved. 

Mnth’R gurgled displeasingly at the memory, at the absurdity of it all. The unnecessary but lasting harm these systems caused. Serving no one’s survival, just the greed of the elite few. Serthe’P losing an eye to protect her was the only thing she felt guilty for. 

She had waited many, many moons to get back at one of them. Here, on the margins of the cast territory where the only crabs were those that have been casted out or harmed by the Raja, it was she that had more power. And she now knew how to fight. 

Mnth’R made herself tall. She was small, even for a female, but many moons of isolation had sharpened her survival skills into a fine, dangerous point. Even the ache in her sprained joint couldn’t hold back the grief, begging to burst through her carapace as rage.

She needed to keep her burrow safe. That meant keeping these cronies away from her territory, lest they discover their location and send more brutes to drive them further off. Theirs and a few others were the last burrows on this side of the Timur territory, an edge where sand and rocks turned into large boulders. Out here, their numbers and resources were scarce.

Mnth’R angled herself in position with her weapon, her hiss dissipating into the deadly pause known between crabs of their kind as the start of a territory battle. 

Prt’T clicked while emitting a guttural mock-laughter, You still live! I’ll admit, that’s impressive. But don’t pull your legs. You’re no match for me, muka kecik.

Mnth’R’s left eye winced in reflex at the slur. Male bullies chanted this at anyone they found useless, disposable. Smallness of body-form was seen as weak, despite being fetishized in females. Somewhere in their cast’s history, smallness was thought to be a failure of adult-molting, a liability for crabs who had to fight the wildness of weather and terrain to survive. With the current Raja’s seething hatred over larger-bodied non-male forms and his claim that deformities were a sign of weak genetics, form-based violence was on the increase and these hurtful slurs made their way back into the conversational atmospheres.

The insecurity of males! Mnth’R spat angry bubbles, then inwardly gathered the life-water flowing through her entire being, anchoring her legs into the firm wet sand beneath her, taking aim. She catapulted the sharp rock from her readied claw.

She didn’t wait to see if she met her mark—she knew she would—and side-scurried with practiced agility to meet the rock where it landed, continuing her attack.

The rock struck Prt’T in the face and he fell on his back, legs and claws wriggling in the air like a useless insect as Mnth’R slammed the rock against the top of his body, disorienting his vision. She lifted the rock again, preparing to hammer a blow into the male crab’s exposed belly. 

Wait, wait, Prt’T signed, spitting and hissing in a high-pitch frequency, expressing fear as his limbs continued to flail. Clear liquid oozed from near his mouth. 

Mnth’R thought, let him fear me for once. He should pay for all he did, for all he got away with. 

Prt’T managed to slap the rock away just before it landed, his claw crushed in the process. He hissed loudly, clear liquid of his life-water spraying on the sand. 

Mnth’R was unfazed. She had trained for this.

Maybe after this, her nightmares would finally be over. Serthe’P would stop feeling afraid of the surface again. They could finally walk, explore, maybe leave this wretched land. 

What these males could do, when nobody else would stand up to them—Mnth’R embraced the rage as a friend, as a guide, she wanted to let it take over. Most of all, she needed to show herself that there was an end to the nightmares.

I feel something, Bant’P gently tapped Serthe’P’s carapace and turned so that they were in the adult’s line of vision, I sense something in the sands. It could be cast adults.

They lifted their eye stalks to the sky, It’s also late morning. Maybe we should go back to hiding.

Serthe’P had been so engrossed in guiding the juveniles through their search for resources that she missed the passing of time. She was usually back in her burrow now, cuddling with Mnth’R or busy in her work-pit. 

Bant’P gestured to get her attention, I’ll bring you back to burrow.

But Serthe’P looked around, then gestured to wait as she guided the smaller juveniles dragging long strips of inedible weeds for them to shred, dry, and use as bandages or rope-ties. A shiver ran across Bant’P’s carapace. They wanted to be respectful, having so little adult attention had made them want to please Serthe’P when she was around. 

So they kept watch, tracking their senses, hoping the other adults wouldn’t get closer.

Please!! Prt’T’s hissing dulled into a strange whisper. She kept her stance over his exposed underside, rock raised to let him know she could end him at any moment. 

Both his claws had been partially crushed, one leg to the left twitching uncontrollably, cracks ran like roots around his sides. He had desperately tried to protect his belly. Too weak to flip himself back up, he knew he was running out of options. Just, wait — please, he signed through the pain, limbs still flailing against the ground.

Mnth’R’s heart pummeled, her life-water singing through her senses. She hissed and signed, Why should I show mercy to one who had none for me and my own? Did you even know what you did to us?

Prt’T’s life-water leaked out from his carapace. He gurgled, struggling to move.

What, Mnth’R signed, Now that it’s you on the ground, you think you deserve to be helped? Are you going to tell me you’re sorry, when you can no longer overpower me with your large body and claws? You think I should show you sympathy, because I wouldn’t want to be a brute like you? You think those are my only options? Tell me, what does my attacker deserve, when he gets to live like a prince in the cast I was born in, turning my family against me so my partner and I must fend for ourselves with no one to share food and armor with? Do you know what it’s like, out here?

Prt’T winced, quiet now. No more hissing or gurgling, he barely moved. He signed slowly, The storm—.

The storm last night? This, out of many crises that your precious, stupid Raja couldn’t sense, despite his claims of having Manifest Sight. Mnth’R spat furious bubbles, He can barely sense right from wrong! But you choose to follow him. You who can weather storms in clusters and collectively fortified burrows, you want to complain to me about last night’s storm??I was out there, in the storm! And I survived, just like I survived you!

Prt’T shook his body, The Raja, gone. I lost — in the storm. I lost—.

So now you know what it’s like to lose? Good!

A hushed sigh escaped the sides of Prt’T’s body and he curled his limbs towards his underside, rocking gently side to side in a pool of life-water. The sign of surrender, forfeiting his right to territory.

Oh, muck! Mnth’R swore, tossing the sharp rock to the ground some ways away from Prt’T, unsure if the foul crab meant it or if he was just using their shared ancestral customs as part of a larger ruse. She had learned from the public pelting she went through when Prt’T outed her and Serthe’P to the cast, to never trust one of them, the ones who’d deliberately take safety away from others.

She paced left and right, working off excess frustration while keeping her crushed enemy in sight. She could deliver the final blow, his position made it easy for her. She might be doing the other outcasts a favor. 

Mnth’R had never taken a life, but what she went through had taught her a lot about what she was willing to do so no more crabs would endure the pain of abuse and isolation. She also knew she could not solve big problems alone. They were all alone out here, because of them. And isolation as the only option was becoming unbearable. 

Mnth’R knew she was being given the chance to act.

Bant’P shivered as they felt a strong wave of grief and rage flow through the sands pulling at the life-waters in their body. It was an alarm going off inside them. What they felt was unmistakable. Bant’P knew well the signs of adults fighting, the tension in the air when death was about to happen. Their hyper-sensitivities allowed them to notice these things from wider distances. They felt something in the air too, high above them, kicking up their instinct to hide.

They signed to their cluster to return to shelter underneath the boulders, then scurried off to get Serthe’P’s attention. This time they had to be firm. We must return! There are adults fighting nearby, and possible danger from the sky. It’s time to go.

The other juveniles hurried off, leaving behind the three helping Serthe’P collect things for her burrow. Serthe’P signed to them as quickly as she could, Leave the things or take them, but you must go with the others. Now.

Serthe’P turned to Bant’P, Where did you sense them, the adults? I need to know, to see if Mnth’R is okay.

Bant’P bubbled in surprise, You’re not going! He was aware of the stories, the incidents that casted Mnth’R out and cost Serthe’P her eye, leaving the couple out all the way on the edge.

Serthe’P raised her withered claw to signal she wasn’t going to hear any arguments from Bant’P. Bant’P hissed out a sigh, Behind that large driftwood, over there. 

They pointed to where a large, waterlogged tree trunk had been swept up by the storm-currents. The life-water in Serthe’P rushed through her limbs, tightening her muscles in worry—that was the direction of her burrow. Mnth’R might be in trouble!

Without signaling to or waiting for Bant’P, Serthe’P moved as quickly as she could, her feet digging into the wet sand, her own hyper-sensitivities awakening as she tracked Mnth’R’s sensory-signature.

She felt it. A familiar signal, like the brink of an electric pulse before lightning flashed. When she was anxious, Mnth’R felt like that. The sands told her where Mnth’R was, that there was someone else with her, a dull heavy shadow.

And something else, brewing up above. Having tuned into the resonances of last night’s storms, Serthe’P could now sense it. Something smaller than the storm, but formidable.

She hummed anxiously as she rushed over. 

When it came, the sound boomed like a question that domed the land, seeming to have swallowed the very air itself, followed by a rumble like rocks tumbling loose from strong current. It heightened Bant’P’s senses in a way that felt impossible.

It gave Bant’P the courage—or recklessness—to push aside the screaming instinct to hide, Hide! There’s a sky hunter above! 

Instead, they scurried between shadows and crevices of the flotsam strewn around to keep going, Serthe’P and her partner their greatest concern. 

The winds tightened around them, or at least that was what it felt like. Bant’P was suddenly short of breath, feeling like they might faint. They kept going.

The sound in the sky, followed by that strange rumble, got closer. 

In a flash, Bant’P was suddenly where they had been aiming to be, without needing to exert any more force or energy. They were now nestled underneath the large waterlogged trunk, where they had sensed the fighting adults and where Serthe’P had run to. Catching up with their breath, re-orienting themself from dizziness, they saw them.

Shielded from the sky under cover of a bone-like structure, Mnth’R gestured wildly, a long sharp rock beside her. Serthe’P listened distractedly, her eyestalk wide, scanning something. There was another adult nearby, out of Bant’P’s sight, from where hatred was seeping out like loose life-water.

They saw Serthe’P raise her withered claw, signaling for quiet and with the other she signed, Wait, my love, on my signal, we move.

The beating of wings textured the air. In a heartbeat, an eerie quiet fell over the land. The crabs sensed danger. Bant’P folded their claws and legs under them, squeezing their eyestalks shut, pressing their body against the driftwood’s shelter. 

They felt a voice rising to meet their feet from the sand. It was Serthe’P tapping a message for them, You shouldn’t be here, Bant’P! Wait for my signal, follow us when we make our move.

Serthe’P kept her eyestalk out, scanning for Bant’P and then shifting to where Prt’T had been wriggling and swinging side to side, trying to get himself back on his feet. 

Mnth’R had begun narrating the encounter as soon as they were reunited. She unspooled everything from the nightmares, worrying about Serthe’P’s sleep, to her hunger for justice. Her grief finding a sharp edge—reacting to the need to get rid of danger. A need for something different, something safer. To feel safe enough to leave. 

Before she could respond, Serthe’P had felt a familiar drumming through the sand, and they discovered Prt’T had been tapping messages with his flailing limbs, calling for reinforcements from whoever could sense it from their cast. Just as Mnth’R began panicking, making plans on how to leave before they’d arrive, Serthe’P felt another presence — a sky hunter and the storm, soaring as one. 

She knew that no crab would venture out—even with the safety of numbers—after hearing the undeniable sound of a sky hunter’s call. Predatory birds were few in their world but they were relentless hunters. The ones that survived adapted in ways others failed to rationalize or decipher.

With a sharp jolt, lightning struck the ground where Prt’T lay, undoing him in one swift blow, his flesh half-cooked from the electric heat. Serthe’P gagged, Mnth’R moved closer, her eyestalks stayed shrunk but wide, witnessing. 

A large black bird with glowing eyes followed the trail of smoke, landing over the body. In quick easy motions, it ripped Prt’T’s carapace, the heat having softened the shell, gobbling up the flesh within. Thunder rumbled like a mammal’s hungry stomach above. 

Serthe’P watched the morbid scene, and waited, nudging Mnth’R up from their defensive position and tapping a signal to Bant’P. 

As the bird’s head dug deeper into the carcass, Serthe’P signed and tapped, Now! Simultaneously, letting Mnth’R’s claw go to let her speed towards the covered burrow entrance, where she shoveled it back open.

Serthe’P gestured to Bant’P to follow Mnth’R, taking one last glance at the predator. Their eyes met, a yellow spark glinting in the black bird’s eye. Serthe’P swallowed her fear and made a dash for home.

Weeks later, Bant’P and the cluster of juveniles taught the adults how to navigate between the boulders while Serthe’P imparted tips on storing and collecting resources for food, armor, medicine, and tools. Together, they made new gears out of fiber and driftwood that could keep more juveniles and disabled or injured crabs safe from the sudden changes of terrain and weather. Serthe’P’s former life as a wanderer buoyed them through their challenges.

Some adults had chosen to join them from the Ketam Timur Cast, offering to provide food and support. It didn’t fully make up for the harms they were part of, that they kept silent about, but it was a start. 

Mnth’R’s reputation as a fighter gave many of the smaller females and juveniles hope—the ones who could, began learning from her. Bant’P practiced their teleportation skill frequently, scouting out lands ahead to find the safest routes, until they found a quiet enough space to build burrows again.

They never knew why some animals developed these extra-sensory skills, but Bant’P and Serthe’P’s willingness to share their gifts reminded the cluster to keep hope alive as they kept going. To embrace difference could only improve the cluster’s survival, and despite the sadness of losing her first safe burrow, Serthe’P experienced an expanded sense of home. 

Witnessing how easily the crabs around her now reached out to hold each other’s claws as they side-stepped tricky terrains, ward off hunters, and weathered storms together, Serthe’P felt like there was finally space for her to rest in the world.

Character Pronunciation List:

Serthe’P – sir + th’ + pee
Mnth’R – mun + three
Bant’P – bun + t’ + pee
Arwa’Lan –  ar like “are” + wa like “want” + lan like from “lunch”
Prt’T – pert like from "perturbed" + tee

Fiction Editor: Joyce Chng.

Copy Editor: Arturo Serrano.

Accessibility Editor: The Accessibility Department.