Pathfinder by Julie Bertagna

back, looking fazed, “Eurosea.”
    Eurosea! That was what the cyberfox said. New Mungo. In Eurosea. Mara watches as her father zooms in to a patch of Eurosea.
    â€œWe’re about here, wouldn’t you say?” He circles his forefinger on the screen map.
    Rosemary nods. “I think so.”
    Wing and its surrounding network of islands are not even a speck on the map but directly south of where they should be, a single star glows.
    Rosemary reads the flashing label on the star. “New Mungo.”
    Mara lets out a cry. Her parents look up at her in surprise.
    â€œThat’s it!” she bursts out. “New Mungo. I—I’ve heard the name before.”
    Somehow, she doesn’t want to tell them about the fox. She will keep him to herself.
    Rosemary slumps back in her chair. “This is madness. What am I thinking of—falling for this New World myth. We’ll see out these storms and then we’ll move uphill.”
    â€œWhere to?” Coll demands. “There’s nowhere to go, no houses up there. And this doesn’t look like a myth to me. It’s too detailed, too scientific.”
    Rosemary shakes her head stubbornly. “This is our home. We’ll move this house stone by stone if we have to. We’ll go as high as we can in the summer. The sea can’t rise much further now.”
    Outside, the ocean gives a defiant roar. The roar grows and they wait for the noise to ebb, for the rhythm of thewaves to resettle. But the roar only rises, becomes a pounding blast that vibrates the thick stone walls of the cottage.
    â€œOh,” gasps Rosemary. She stands up and clasps her hands tight together till the knuckles turn white.
    Mara gets up and links arms with her mother, while Coll stares at the storm-bolted door, daring a single wave to touch it. But there’s nothing any of them can do except hope that the terrifying roar will subside.
    After a long while, the roar dies. But a thunderous banging erupts on the cottage door. Storm-torn voices battle to be heard above the wind.
    Coll rushes to unlatch the heavy planks of wood that secure the door. It bursts open and a clutch of terrified people spills through, sodden and shivering. It takes Mara a moment to recognize them as her neighbors from a cottage directly downhill. The children’s eyes stare at her, wide with fear, through drenched locks of hair. The peal of bells is unmistakable now.
    â€œRuth!” cries Rosemary, grabbing the woman by the arms.
    â€œIt’s gone,” the woman, Ruth, bursts out sobbing. “Our home. The sea—”
    â€œWe were lucky to get out in time. There must be others who didn’t,” Quinn, her husband interrupts in a flat, dazed voice. “A giant wave. Never seen such a wave, never.”
    â€œGail!” gasps Mara. “Oh, and Rowan and Tain and—and everyone—” She clasps her hand over her mouth as if to stop the awful thoughts that might burst out.
    â€œNo, Coll!” Ruth catches Coll’s arm to stop him rushing out into the storm to help. “It’s no use. They’re either safe or gone. You’ll risk yourself for nothing and your family needs you alive. Tain’s high enough up. And a lot of the villagers have moved up into the church. MaybeKate and Alex took the family there, Mara. I said we should do the same.”
    The church sits on the hillside just above the village. It should be safe, thinks Mara, willing her friends to be there.
    Ruth leans weakly against a chair, presses a hand to her mouth, and suppresses a sob. Quinn stares in a daze at his drenched, terrified children and his heavily pregnant wife.
    â€œSit down, Ruth,” says Rosemary anxiously, helping her into a seat. “I’ll see to the children. It’ll be all right.”
    Brisk and grim-faced, Rosemary takes charge, sending Mara to the kitchen to heat up soup while she finds dry clothes for them all. Mara hears her