Chapter 1

"Shh," she whispered to the trembling salamander in the cage beside her. "Almost there."

The salamander's orange-spotted skin glistened with nervous sweat. Her name was Lidia, and she had been caught crossing a road three days earlier. Willow had learned this between the barking and the clanging of doors, during the brief silences when the shelter worker's boots stopped pacing.

Across the aisle, a seagull named Nigel paced on his newspaper-lined floor. "Faster, fox. I can smell the man coming with the breakfast bucket in maybe four hours."

"I know what I'm doing." Willow bit down harder. The latch groaned. A robin in the upper cage — Atani, who had flown into a window — chirped encouragement in a melody that sounded almost like words.

Then the metal gave. The door swung open with a soft creak.

Willow dropped to the concrete floor, her white fur collecting dust. She nudged Lidia's cage door. "Your turn. Same trick."

Lidia pressed her wet snout against her latch. "I don't have teeth like you."

"Then I'll do it." Willow worked the salamander's latch while Nigel watched the hallway. Atani fluttered down to perch on Willow's back. The robin weighed almost nothing, but the trust in that small warmth made Willow's chest tight.

"Last one," she said, reaching for Nigel's cage.

A splash echoed from the back room. Everyone froze.

"That's Opaline," Nigel said. "The orca they brought in last night. She's in the big saltwater tank behind the boiler."

Willow had heard the story from the shelter worker's radio call: a young orca stranded on the beach, rescued by the marine patrol, temporarily housed here until the aquarium had space. But temporary meant a concrete tank barely twice her length, with recycled water that tasted of rust.

"We can't leave her," Willow said.

"She can't walk on land," Lidia whispered.

"The river is two blocks away. If we can get her there, she can follow the current to the sea." Willow freed Nigel, who shook his feathers. "Atani, can you scout the back room?"

The robin took off, disappearing through a gap in the ceiling tiles. Moments later, she returned. "There's a hose pipe leading from the tank to a drain in the floor. If we pull the plug, the water empties out before morning."

"And Opaline?" Willow asked.

"She's awake. She says she can slide if we wet the floor first."

Willow led them through the dark shelter, past rows of sleeping cats and a grumbling bulldog who opened one eye and closed it again. The back room smelled of bleach and salt. The tank loomed against the far wall, a gray metal circle. Inside, a dark shape moved with heavy grace.

"You're the fox," a voice rumbled like distant thunder. Opaline's eye, round and dark, pressed against the viewing window. "I heard you planning. Get this hose off me."

Willow found the valve and twisted. Water gushed across the floor, cold against her paws. She worked the drain plug loose, and the tank began to empty. Opaline grunted as the water level dropped past her dorsal fin.

"The back door," Nigel said. "It leads to the alley. I saw it from the window."

Willow shoved the bolt with her shoulder. It didn't budge. Lidia crawled up and pressed her damp body against the metal, leaving a slick of moisture. Willow tried again. The bolt slid back with a wet scrape.

Cold night air hit them. The alley was empty, paved with cracked asphalt, and at its end, a streetlamp glowed orange.

Opaline slid over the tank's lip and landed on the wet floor with a heavy thud. She flopped forward, using her flippers to push, leaving a trail of water. "Keep going. Don't stop."

They moved as a single, strange parade: a robin on a fox's back, a salamander clinging to the fox's tail, a seagull hopping ahead, and an orca sliding behind them like a silver-blue shadow.

Halfway down the alley, a dog barked. Short and sharp.

Willow looked back. A large mutt stood at the shelter's back door, chain rattling. He had seen them.

"Run," Opaline said.

Willow ran. Her paws hit the asphalt hard. She could hear Lidia's claws scraping, Nigel's wings beating air, Atani's chirps urging her forward. Behind them, the dog's bark turned into a howl.

The river was close. Willow could smell it, taste its silt and fish. She rounded the corner and saw the water, dark and wide, reflecting the distant city lights.

"Almost there!" she called.

Opaline reached the bank first, her body splashing into the current. She surfaced, blowing water from her blowhole. "Come on!"

Willow leaped. For a moment, she hung in the air, her shadow stretching across the rippling water. Then she hit the surface, cold flooding her fur, and she swam.

Behind her, the dog's bark grew closer. Then Opaline let out a low, resonant call that vibrated through the water and into the night. The barking stopped.

Willow paddled toward the far bank, her friends around her, the shelter fading into the darkness behind them. But as her paws touched the muddy shore, she froze.

A pair of yellow eyes watched from the reeds.