See Under David Grossman (free ebook reader TXT) 📖

to Yorick and Napoleon (another one of your silly ideas, very cute: Bruno would never dream of naming a fish! Not even Laprik!), and Yorick happened to be where he usually was, seaside, but Napoleon, who always swam shoreside, had disappeared, and Bruno was fearful now, yes, I felt his fear flow into my narrowest gulfs; see, Neuman, after an eternity and a half of traveling between them, he suddenly felt that his free side had been wrenched out of him, and that his life was quickly dwindling and flowing back toward the shore, toward the fish he had traveled with halfway around the world, yet hardly knew at all!

And at that moment, you hear, at that moment strange currents began to flow through him, like shocks and burning sensations and shivers cold and hot, and he wanted so many different things at once, to stay and to go, to drown and to fly, and his arms and legs began to pull in opposite directions, he was almost torn apart—don’t forget the terrible infection over his ribs, too, which made him a little feverish and confusedall the time—and I suppose it was my fault really, though it’s still too early to admit it here, and Bruno turned seaside and saw that the entire shoal was in as much confusion as he was, and that hundreds of thousands of fish were being torn apart and joined together in terror and frenzy, and that their eyes protruded and their lateral lines were shining, can you imagine the sight? And Bruno calmed down. He was about the only one who had the strength to control himself a minute more and listen, and suddenly Bruno realized that the great ning had all but vanished, and he shuddered, Mamma mia, he shuddered and listened intently, despairingly, imploringly, and only then did he discover in the distance, on the far edge of the shoal, the seaside drumming of Laprik, growing faint.

And before he could sigh with relief that at least Laprik was alive, poor Bruno’s body screamed something else to him, something entirely different: a strong new muscle began to stretch and stiffen over the shoal, and Bruno heard many voices and echoes inside that he didn’t understand, the beating of a new drum, and he closed his eyes and listened through his pores to this voice coming seaside from the rear, a kind of whisper and contraction and a ter-ri-ble pain—oh, how shall I explain it so you’ll understand—like having a Suez or Panama operation, being cut open all the way down without an anaesthetic, and the poor salmon began to writhe and fight, they were sure it was the Icelandic fishermen come back with their nasty nets, the kind with three deep hooks for every square hole, and I swear I saw fish actually bursting—pop! —with fear and strain, and no wonder, when even I, and I’ve seen things like that before, even I went berserk this time, and I saw that even the distant reefs of the little Shetlands were all effulgent, and it felt as if the whole world were panting and perspiring, and Bruno was irresistibly drawn seaside, and Guruk, Guruk, writhed the frightened eels of the chiaroscuro, and Guruk, Guruk, rustled the sea porcupines with their pointy quills, and suddenly through the darkness, through the sky and through me came a flash, the red light of a new ning, and everything was clear.

Because an enormous fish flew forward from the head of the shoal and fell seaside where the water tossed and quivered, and Bruno sensed on his seaside, under his darling shoulder, exactly where this Guruk was boiling in the shoal, and that was also when he saw him for the first time: a huge fish, almost as big as Laprik but younger by a whole voyage, his jaws pried open for combat, and my wavelings awakenedat long last from their confusion and ran to him and surrounded him and touched him, and then they ran away from him screaming, Run, run, run for your life, O Lady, this one has a temperature’s unbelievable, you could furnace another Gulf Stream with this one, O Lady, and around him, around this Guruk, the salmon were flipping as if they were on a hot griddle, and overhead flew plovers that opened their orange bills but couldn’t make a sound, and giant clams snapped shut so hard a few were crushed to pieces, and Bruno looked at Guruk and saw the exact likeness of the tiny stream in the river Spey in the veins protruding all over Guruk’s shiny, muscular body, and I swear I saw it, too—that happens sometimes, especially when you really want it to happen—and the shoal was drawn after Guruk in a kind of swoon, and he was filled with the strength and daring of a killer whale, and leaped out of the water and flew over us, and plunged below and disappeared, and returned from a different direction altogether, and in this way he sewed the shoal to him with a strong, taut string, and his body was as shiny as a new star, and his head was disjointed and pointed the way to the little Shetland Islands nearby, and Bruno felt that he had to get there, he knew that it was the best place in the world to be. And he hated Laprik then for leading them too long by a route that was too long, for torturing them or whatever, and it was so obvious now that you had to hurry, and find shortcuts wherever possible, because life is brief, and you have to fly, you have to soar to these wonderful isles, and never waste a moment, because Guruk is calling everyone—

And the real torag was on. Not as sometimes happens during the gyoya, when fish fight over food, and not even as happens when two rival shoals collide. No, this torag was totally insane. The salmon bit anything that met their teeth,