As the day unravels, Miss Templeton is finally found by the Wall, her clothes torn and exposed skin bloodied. There are no signs of the sea lion or the crabs, but there is a deep rut in the sand leading to the water's edge. When the villagers approach, they hear her babbling nonsense and staring glassy-eyed at the sky. Although no one likes Miss Templeton, everyone agrees to get her off the beach and to a doctor.

"I'll be glad to see her gone," a woman says to her companion as Papa and I slowly walk back to our house. "My poor Louise was terrified of her."

At least she wasn't chased with a broom, I think, looking down at my wrists. The red marks from Miss Templeton's fingers have yet to fade. My knees and elbows ache from hitting the hardwood floor; my hair, having escaped its braid, is caught up in a loose ponytail at the nape of my neck.

Papa is silent for most of our walk. When he arrived with the other villagers, he first broke down and cried, holding me tightly until I told him I couldn't breathe. It was odd, and frightening, to see my father so scared. I can't even remember the last time I saw Papa cry. Maybe it was when Mama died, but that was a long time ago and everything is a blur.

"Let's stop here first," Papa suddenly says, pausing in from of Dunfield's Sweet Shop.

Twice in a week? I blink and look up at my father. "But—"

"My treat," Papa says, taking me by the hand and leading me into the shop.

Mrs Dunfield bustles up to us, flour on her flower-print apron and dusted in her silvery blonde hair. "Oh, my dear!" the matron exclaims, pulling me into a hug and pressing my face against her ample bosom. Although awkward, I can't help but breathe deeply the scent of warm bread and chocolate that permeates Mrs Dunfield's clothes. It's comforting.

"I heard about what happened at the school! That awful, awful woman!" Mrs Dunfield pulls me off her chest and cups my face between her small, warm hands. "Well," she huffs, looking at Papa, "I doubt the mayor can save her now."

"Huh?" I ask, confused.

Mrs Dunfield blushes and turns me towards an open table. "Never you mind, child. Sit here with your father and I'll have some warm cocoa brought out."

I sit down, swinging my legs back and forth. "What did she mean about the mayor?"

Papa pauses, one hand on the back of his chair. "The mayor was ... protecting Miss Templeton," he replies after a moment. He sits down quickly and picks up a white and blue napkin, inspecting the corners.

"From what?"

Papa shifts. "From ... losing her job."

I squint at my father. "Why?"

Is it my imagination or is there color on Papa's cheeks? "He, uh ..."

"Liked her," Mrs Dunfield interrupts, placing a brown earthenware mug of cocoa in front of me, then turning to set a cup of coffee by Papa. "A lot." She raises her eyebrows pointedly at Papa, who swallows whatever he's going to say next and merely nods in agreement.

None of that makes any sense, but I chalk it up to adults being strange. I pick up the mug of cocoa and take a small sip. Delicious.

"On the house," Mrs Dunfield says, handing me a plate with a large slice of chocolate cake on it. "Be quiet, Einarr," she scolds Papa with a smile. "Eat your cake."

"I—" Papa protests, but trails off grumbling. "Fine." But he takes up his fork and digs in all the same.

I giggle.

------------

Something small and black is sitting at our front door when we return home.

"Wait here," Papa cautions, holding out his arm to keep me back.

"But, Papa—" I begin, recognizing our visitor.

"Hush." Papa reaches out and pokes the black mass with the toe of his worn work boot. All at once, eight tentacles unfurl from beneath the little black octopus and Bippi lifts himself up, big blue eyes looking up at Papa.

"Ow," the octopus states, somehow managing to look wounded.

"By the Grey God!" Papa exclaims, jumping back. "It talks!"

"I should hope so," the creature replies, folding two tentacles together. "Otherwise, I wouldn't be able to teach your daughter."

Papa's eyes widen, and then narrow. He stoops down, nearly to the octopus's level. His fingers grip his knees, skin stretching tightly across the knuckles. "You ... are teaching Sina?" He glances over his shoulder to where I stand.

"Yes," Bippi answers, bobbing his bulbous body up and down.

"You brought the books?"

"I did."

I grin. "See, Papa? I told you that it was an octopus!"

Papa slowly stands up and takes a step back. There's a glassy sort of look in his eye as if he can't believe what's happening is real.

Bippi crawls up to me and reaches out with one tentacle. I cock my head and extend one hand; the octopus carefully wraps his tentacle around my wrist, exploring the deepening bruises on my skin. I marvel at the odd sensation, noting that the texture of the tentacle and suckers isn't cold or slimy, but warm.

Retracting his arm, the octopus says, "You will no longer need to go to school."

"What?" I ask. "Why?"

Papa walks over and puts an arm around my shoulders. "What do you mean?"

The octopus looks up at us. "Because there is nothing regular humans can teach her anymore. As evidenced by today's events, Sina is more powerful than I anticipated. She must be properly trained, the sooner the better."

"Wait—that was me?" I gasp. "I called the sea lion and—and the crabs?" But how?

"You are a sea witch, after all," Bippi bobs up and down. "They call to you, you call to them."

Papa sucks air in through his teeth. "I can't—"

The sound draws my attention. "Papa?"

But my father isn't listening. He squats down by the octopus; the creature pivots in the sand to face him squarely. "I can't lose her, too," he tells Bippi shakily. "Don't do this to me."

A chill slides down my back despite the warm day. "Papa?" I repeat.

"Your wife was a brave woman," the octopus says, resting a tentacle on Papa's knee. "She saved so many people that day."

"At the risk of her own life," Papa chokes out.

The chill has completely consumed my body. Papa always said my mother died of a disease that swept through our home village. "Papa?" I ask in a small voice. "What happened?"

Drawing his tentacle back, Bippi looks up at Papa. Taking a deep breath, Papa says, "Your mother was our village hedgewitch. One day, a man with oozing boils all over his body arrived, seeking a healer. Some people tried to chase him out, but in doing so, they caught the infection too. Before we knew it, the disease spread like wildfire. Your mother ..." He stops, words caught in his throat.

My lower lip trembles and tears spring to my eyes.

Papa coughs. "Your mother managed to stop the spread, but the effort made her weak. So weak that she went to sleep—and never woke up."

Great, fat tears roll down my cheeks. "Why didn't you tell me?" All of my life, I believed my mother to be the victim of cruel circumstances when she really was a hero.

Papa sighs, his own eyes wet. "Because I wanted to protect you. I thought if I never mentioned that your mother had magic, you wouldn't develop it."

"Your intentions were good," the octopus tells him gently, "but you cannot deny the inevitable." Bippi looks up at me. "We start tomorrow."

I nod, dashing tears from my cheeks with the back of my wrist. Bippi bobs and begins to undulate down the beach to the ocean's edge.

Suddenly, Papa stands up. "Octopus!" he calls out.

The black cephalopod pauses. "Bippi."

"That's his name," I tell Papa proprietarily.

Papa blinks and then gives himself a little shake. "Whatever you are, promise me that you'll teach her to be careful."

Water laps at the octopus's tentacles, swirling around his body. "I promise," he says before sliding into the sea without a ripple.