Tavi liked mornings at Pine-Crank Iceworks best when everything clicked and slid and hummed the way it should. He stood on a low stack of ice blocks with his green cap tipped back, watching the sleepy seal helpers shuffle along the salt-ice canal toward the far shed. Their flipper-feet left shiny marks in the frost, and Tavi was already grinning. If he could help them cross fast enough, maybe Brin would stop frowning at him for once.
Then the canal gave a little snap.
Tavi looked down and saw a pale crack split the salt-ice path from one edge to the other. Underneath, dark water shifted with the rising cold tide, pushing softly against the broken ice. A second snap ran through the gap, and the seal helpers on the far side all stopped at once. One little seal made a worried squeak and sat down as if sitting very still might fix the whole thing.
From the tea room walkway, Orin called, “No one step on that now.”
Brin was already there too, brass clipboard under one arm, eyebrows bristling with frost. “That crossing is closed,” he said. “Work stops until it can be crossed properly.”
Tavi’s smile faded. The seals were stranded on the far side, the morning bells were still ringing, and everyone was looking at the broken canal like it had decided the day for them. Tavi could get to them somehow, he knew it—but only if he chose a careful way, because the crack had to hold.
What happens next?
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