Three Tides, page 11 of 12

Pip comes down the worn steps in the sand under a thin crescent moon, the still pool at the foot of the shore below him, calm and methodical.

In the night he went down the forty-one steps four times, to be sure of them.

They held still, all four times.

The dark smelled of a spring that was still a season away.

© 2026 A.J.Sharpe