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The Hollow Shore
Chapter
The Letter from Brine
Fog Over the Jetty
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The envelope was damp at the corners, as if it had been carried through fog rather than mail. Mara turned it over twice before she slit it, the paper giving with a sound like wet sand. Inside: a map that did not match the coast she had surveyed last autumn. The jetty was gone. The lighthouse had moved half a mile inland — or the sea had taken the land between. She laid the map against her own chart. The lines refused to agree. In the margin, in a hand she almost recognized, a single sentence: Come before the next spring tide. The shore is hollowing.