“We’ve seen nothing, Admiral. Our school has been on retreat in these waters for two weeks and has encountered nothing but jellyfish and the occasional whale,” replied one fish.
“A non-Ocean cry? A bird?” questioned another fish.
“We suspect the cry may be…human,” squealed Admiral Pinch and, at the word “human”, all the urchins on the manta squawked their disapproval.
Adam shifted around in the back of the group. He was doing his best to stay invisible. Although he knew nothing about the urchins other than what Spot had said, he most certainly didn’t like the looks of them. The thought of getting caught and taken away by this collection of spiky squeakers frightened him immensely. When none of the fish responded to the Admiral’s charge, he continued: “Very well. I trust if you see anything out of the ordinary, human or otherwise, you’ll report it immediately?”
“Absolutely, Admiral. May the King have many wet years.”
“May the King stay wet indeed, Diamond Fin. Carry on.” Admiral Pinch rolled back from the fin’s edge and the other two urchins followed him. He squealed something loud and unintelligible and the urchins filled in the path they’d earlier cleared. Another two, high-pitched orders and the manta lurched forward.
Adam let out a relieved breath. He hadn’t been caught. The manta continued to glide by him and the rest of the school, its great, lumbering fins flapped and forced funnels of water around and through the school. Strong as the gusts of currents were, however, they couldn’t break the school’s formation. The manta’s tail drew close to Adam. His eyes took in the many urchins sprawled out like parasites over the manta’s back. Without emotion, the urchins stared at the school while the manta carried them by. One particular urchin caught Adam’s eye and Adam should have turned away, but didn’t.