Mira had already spotted the warm patch in the middle of Driftwhistle Harbor, and she had already decided she would be the first to reach it. It was a round place in the frozen bay where the snow would not settle. Every morning it looked a little larger, like the ice was blinking awake.
That morning, Mira stood at the end of the nearest dock, red hood pulled tight, mitten strings bouncing against her coat. Across the harbor, the warm circle shone dull and pale against the blue-white ice. Soft booming sounds rolled under the surface, and the wind tugged at the rope rails along the lanes.
“Don’t rush,” called Toma from behind her. The tall harbor keeper stood in his blue wool coat, silver buttons catching the gray light. “The ice has been changing.”
Mira bounced once on her toes. She wanted to hurry anyway. But when she looked down, the ice around the warm patch had a thin shine to it, slick as fish skin. That made the path feel much farther away.
Before she could choose a step, a small gray shape zipped past her boots. Pip, the seal pup, wriggled onto the dock with shining black eyes and a green ribbon tangled on one flipper. He flopped toward the harbor edge, eager as a skipped stone.
“Pip, no—” said Toma.
Pip slapped the ice, and the slick sound made Mira lean forward. Right then she could go after the seal pup, stop him from sliding out, or use the moment to dash for the warm patch while everyone was looking the other way.
What happens next?
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