Page 18 of The Sea Witch’s Son (The Villains of Wolf Hollow #1)

Chapter 1 7

MARLIN

I watch a drop of water fall into the pool.

It shatters the surface, sending ripples in every direction. Such a tiny drop yet such a powerful impact.

Quite philosophical when you think about it.

I suck the air back into my lungs and let it out slowly. Someone shouts my name from the crowd, some sort of cheer that gets muddled in the commotion on deck.

Sebastian swings his arms next to me, trying to keep the blood flowing. He’s a natural sprinter, the bulk of his frame far too heavy to successfully compete in the longer races. I already know he will be the first off the blocks with an explosive start, but by the second length, his technique will start to flail and sheer power will take over.

All of the guys lined up next to me are formidable opponents. We’ve been competing together for the last couple of years, so I’ve gotten to know every one of their strengths and weaknesses based on event and distance.

That is to say, all the men in this heat are talented swimmers.

But I’m better.

The whistle blows and we mount the blocks. I climb onto the narrow platform, a ridiculous size for a man of my height, and adjust my stance to maximize the efficiency. Basic track starts are recommended, though how a swimmer approaches them varies from person to person.

I roll my shoulders one last time and grab onto the front edge. Flexibility is the one thing most athletes skip out on, but I’ve never been one to take the leisure route.

I asked Sebastian once, what he thought about during competitions. Whether it was the dive, the flip turn, the stroke count, the number of breaths. He looked at me blankly and said his favourite part about competing was the fact he didn’t think. The moment his feet left the block, muscle memory took over and it was simply a fuelled sensation.

Truly, it was a disappointing response.

The air gets pulled back into my lungs as I count down from one hundred. A false start is the risk of the sport, and to diminish the possibility, one must simply occupy the mind so the auditory components can take over.

I’ve often wondered what that would feel like. To give one’s body over to the tumultuous emotions that drive foolish and rash behaviour. The idea is appealing in a fantastical sort of way, similar to Finley’s romanticized notions of his relationship with Melody.

The buzzer sounds and my body responds accordingly, diving off the block and into the frigid water below. An unusual thought spears my mind as I go racing for the other side, a thought that has my breath catching in the most intriguing way.

I hope my little saint is watching.