"My earliest memory is playing in the sea," Luna paused, read over the words she'd written on the transcription paper, then crumpled it up and threw it against the wall with determination. She looked at the stack of crumpled pieces of paper and thought about what Finn would say. "Can't go fishing for paper - we have to be careful with it, Luna," he'd scold her, but she knew that if she could get the story right, it would all be worth it.
She looked at the small bit of paper, a section of The Map of Hidden Tides that she'd copied for herself. The map showed a small island, crescent-shaped like the moon. The island had been labeled Moon's Embrace, with the storm wall, waning tide, and waxing tide marked around it. Luna had added her own memories to the map. She called the small cove made by the crescent shape of the island the Bay of Stars. She'd drawn in a square for the small stone farmhouse, a circle for her parents' observatory, a careful dotted line for the path she took to the beach, and a small irregular shape for the place she'd called Pirate Rock.
Picking up a piece of transcription paper, Luna started to write again:
"Stories have always been part of my life. My parents made sure I could read at a young age, and since then, books have always been the reliable friends I could spend time with. Growing up on The Island, my parents' library was full of knowledge - their desire to learn all they could of the world, and to ensure that I knew of the world beyond our shores.
I would studiously read the histories of Port Aurelia, of the noble families and the great explorers, while my parents would spend hours in their observatory, taking careful observations and making detailed records.
At dinner, my father would ask me what I had learned, and I would tell him of the books I'd read. But much to his dismay, I would always ask questions about the people who had written the stories rather than the important events they had chronicled. My parents, for all their observational prowess, were clueless when it came to people, most of all their daughter who had more love of pretending to be a swashbuckling pirate than care for the treaties on maritime law they had violated.
This is not to say that my early childhood was anything but wonderful. I played pirates, pretending the large rocks were boats, grabbing driftwood sticks to use as swords. But most of all, I played in the water, in the small cove on The Island I had named The Bay of Stars for the playful starfish that lived in its warm waters. I imagined it was a busy harbor full of merchant ships, or the scene of one of the great sea battles that had turned the tides of history.
This was my life for many years, the only life I'd ever known. I'm not sure if I was born on The Island or if I came there as an infant, but I have no memories before it, nor did my parents ever speak of a life off of The Island. I don't know why we were there - perhaps my parents were studying the moon for which I was named? There is likely lost in some archive in Port Aurelia a record of the work they were sent there to do, although I don't know by whom. What I do have a better sense for is why we left."
Luna paused to look over the story she'd written. She thought for a second about crumpling it up and throwing it with the others, but this was the furthest she'd gotten. Still, she knew the next part would be the hardest. The memory had been one that Luna had buried deep. Putting off the act of writing, she collected the discarded papers and put them in with the cooking tinder, hoping Finn wouldn't notice when she burned them that evening when she made dinner. Luna sat again with the writing in front of her and touched the shell necklace she wore that Alun had given her. The young Wave Rider had painted a moon on his sail; she had been part of his story - what would Luna paint on her sail? She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and thought of the starfish, picking up a pen with renewed determination.
"One day, a man arrived dressed in a grey duster and wide-brimmed hat. He introduced himself to my parents and me as Thomas, saying he was here to assess the work they were doing. My parents were so nervous about the assessment that when my mom prepared tea for Thomas, she dropped the teapot and it smashed all over the floor. I remember her crying as I helped her clean up the broken pieces. I knew I needed to cheer them up, and I thought of the starfish who played in the cove. I grabbed a bowl and a wooden bucket from the kitchen and set out down to the water with excitement.
Wading into the warm water, I placed the bucket under, letting the water fill it. Using my little fingers, I lured starfish after starfish into the bucket. I'd bring them up to the house and show everyone how they danced. Placing the bucket onto the shore, I returned to the water with the large bowl, again filling it with water and luring the starfish inside. As I turned to return to shore, I saw Thomas standing, staring with a look of horror upon his face. Then I saw it - the bucket I had filled had leaked all the water out, and the red starfish inside were starting to turn white. Hurriedly, I grabbed the bucket and brought it back to the sea, dumping out the starfish, but they just sank to the bottom, no longer dancing. Looking back to the shore, I watched as Thomas turned and ran towards our farmhouse.
When I reached the farmhouse, Thomas was nowhere to be found, and my parents were moving about quickly, grabbing shells and things off of shelves. My mom hugged me and, crying, said, 'I'm so sorry, I'm just so sorry.' 'What?' I asked, confused at first, and then realizing that Thomas must have told them what happened, I tried to explain, 'It was an accident, I didn't want to hurt the starfish,' I protested, but my mom just kept crying. My dad, on the other hand, seemed determined. 'Pack your things,' he told me, 'you'll need to leave tonight.' I was shocked - what did he mean? The Island was all I had known my whole life.
Just after nightfall, my parents led me down a path past their lab, down a set of stairs to a small dock. Tied there was a boat, big enough to hold one or two people at most, with a small mast and sail. My dad placed the bag of things I collected inside the boat and started to raise the sail. My mom hugged me tightly and then, through tears, handed me one of her black leather-bound observation journals. 'I've been making this for you,' she said, 'although it's not quite finished.' With that, she held my hand as I stepped down into the boat. My dad climbed back aboard the dock, untied the boat, and pushed it off into the current. As I floated away from the only place I've ever called home, my mom sobbed. I watched as my dad held her close, and I could just make out his words as he said, 'It's for the best.'"
Luna wiped tears from her eyes, knowing that she couldn't let them smudge the recently written ink. The story had been painful to tell, but now that it was written, she felt lighter, almost. Carefully, she collected the pages she'd written and the map of The Moon's Embrace and carried them up to the deck with a sense of accomplishment.
Finn stood at the helm, holding course though the sky was cloudless and the wind steady. Luna looked around The Driftwood at that crystal blue sea and thought for a moment of throwing the pages out into the sea, but then, urging herself, she walked over to Finn. "I think you'll find this story - my story - interesting," she said, handing him the pages. He accepted them with a look of hesitation, looking at the map though his stare turned to curiosity. "Read the story before you say anything," Luna insisted, turning and quickly going below deck.
Below deck, Luna lay in her hammock strung up in the adventure section, her favorite, and stared at the ceiling. What have I done? she thought. She imagined ways to take it all back, maybe tell Finn that it was just a joke, a story she made up. A gentle knocking startled her. Looking over, she saw Finn holding the stack of papers and a small book. "I can't accept this," he said, handing her the story. Jumping from her hammock, Luna grabbed the papers and asked, "Why not?" Finn gestured to a bench along the side of the boat and sat, leaving space for Luna beside him. Luna didn't move. "We don't accept unfinished stories in this library," Finn told her. "Come, I have something to show you."
As Luna placed the stack of papers on her hammock and moved to sit next to Finn, he opened the small book he was carrying. "This," he said, gesturing to the finely written pages, "is a record of the minutes of the Maritime Society. Here." He pointed at an entry dated almost eight years before. Luna read, "The incident on Moon's Embrace having been investigated, one of our scholars is dead. Those responsible have had their names struck from our order. No research could be discovered." "What does it mean?" Luna asked. "Until today, it was the one record I'd found mentioning the Moon's Embrace as a real place," Finn said. "But now, reading your story, I believe I understand it, and I think it is time that you do too.
"The Maritime Society, despite their innocent-sounding name, have their roots in old Port Aurelia, back in the age of conquest when the noble families sought to control all of the sea. Now they're little more than bigots with a pretense of science. They hate everything that isn't from Port Aurelia, but most of all they hate Saltborn." Finn paused, making sure Luna was following. "Your parents must have been members of the Society, sent to research god knows what on the island, but you were an unexpected complication. You see, Luna, I believe you are Saltborn." "What?" Luna said, dumbfounded. "You know," Finn began to explain, "touched by the sea's magic, able - " Luna cut him off. "I know what Saltborn is. What do you mean you think I'm Saltborn?" "Well," Finn thought for a moment, "there's the circumstances of how you were found. Do you remember that?" "A Pod of Great Whales rescued me," Luna said. "Not rescued," Finn corrected. "You were contentedly sailing, a little child alone in the sea. The whales led the Wave Riders to you, like you were important. Then there's the fact that you survived for so long at sea in a small sailboat, having never set foot on a boat before in your life. But what proves it to me is the way you described the starfish." "The way I killed them?" Luna asked, horrified. "No," Finn placed a hand on her arm to calm her. "The way they followed you and played with you - it's not normal for starfish. I think Thomas saw you playing with the starfish that day and knew, as I do, what it meant." Realization started to dawn on Luna. If Thomas had realized that her parents were hiding a Saltborn child - it would explain their nervousness at his arrival. She read the minutes again. "Do you think my parents killed Thomas?" she asked Finn, not sure how to feel about this. "I believe so," Finn said, then hastily added, "but I'm not sure. What I suspect is that Thomas knew you were Saltborn and went to confront your parents. If they killed him, they would have stopped any record of you from leaving the island. Then, by sending you out in that boat, they ensured that if another Maritime Scholar arrived, you wouldn't be there to implicate your parents again."
Luna thought about the last words she'd heard her dad say: "It was for the best." She had always assumed that they meant for her parents, but she realized now that they meant for her. She'd be able to grow up without being hunted and studied. "Now that you know the truth, would you like to finish writing the story?" Finn asked. "No," Luna responded, her gut reaction moving faster than her thoughts that needed to catch up. "The man Thomas, he must have arrived on a Storm Tern," Luna said. "Perhaps my parents took it and left the Island after me. Perhaps they escaped?" Smiling at Luna, Finn said, "If they were anything like you, I'm sure they did." Then standing, he headed for the stairs to the deck. "Now we have a story to find, and I have some ideas of where to start looking," he said just before climbing up.
Alone again below deck, Luna made her way to the unloved section of the library with the books of Wreckers' ledgers. Here, tucked between two dry accounts of shipwrecks, was a black leather-bound notebook right where she had hidden it years before. Luna pulled it out and opened it to the first page. In her Mother's perfect handwriting, it said, "The Tale of Luna the Pirate Princess." Luna read the story all the way through. It brought back bittersweet memories - her mom's love, her parents' abandonment - but now Luna felt there was something deeper to all of that: a love so great that you would sacrifice everything for it. As Luna turned the last page, the story stopped abruptly. A note on a piece of paper was tucked into the book: "I'm sorry I never finished this, but it is now up to you how your story ends. I love you, my little Pirate Princess - Mom."