There'd always been talk, around the Isles, of old creatures from the deep that would throw themselves on the rocks and call out to trawlermen on their morning catch, luring them through the fog to wreckage and despair; stranding them on causeways at high tides to perish and drown. Remus had never put much stock in any of that. Remus finds something on the beach, among the mist and the rock pools and the banks of kelp, white with seafoam.