T is for Tale: the second tale - Part 5

*Hooked you say? Goodness! Then for you my friend, I will endeavor to keep this story going properly even while I am writing the other. Priorities have made it so that I am now days away from being able to send my book to the agents and that is why my little writing spot/blog has been neglected.*

---Read's mind reeled at the very thought of it. A giant expanse of land like the bottom of the sea but without water, without swimming, just full of air and birds. He couldn't imagine anything that sounded more freeing. To be able to sail through the sky and still be on the ground like his home. He had been worried he would never see it again when Pock kept swimming upwards.
  "We'll rest today. Tomorrow we will look for land."

  Read spent the night dreaming of clouds and of sharks flying in the sky.---


Pock was swimming in the slow drowsy circles of his particular type of sleep when Read woke up. He was excited and invigorated by his dream, even more set on getting to the sky now. He wrapped his legs around the nearest rock and pulled himself out of the small hole he had found. Luckily he was flexible because otherwise his overly large head would not have fit.
He moved up past the sleeping shark and ran his long legs over the rocky wall as he slowly glided upwards.
There was a ripple ahead. Something wrong with the water. He couldn't see past the strange blur before him. What was it? He poked a tentacle at it and it was suddenly cold as ice. He dipped back in in shock and swam back down quickly. He bumped right into Pock.
"There's something wrong with the water. It feels cold and... Strange." he said.
"That's air." Pock smiled at him, "We've reached the island."
No. It couldn't be. Pock swam up and tentatively pushed a tentacle through the rippling water again. It was cold and... Something else. He moved the tentacle around and there was nothing stopping him from swaying it. Freedom. Air.
He pushed his tentacles up higher and something tickled them. Like a strong current it pushed them to the side but it didn't swirl like water, it enveloped like it was trying to lift and Read longed for that to happen.
He was just about to push through and chance a look with his own two eyes when something poked at his tentacle. He twitched. Something poked again. It hurt this time. On the third poke he pulled back and suddenly a sharp yellow object slammed into the water at his face and he yelled propelling himself backwards quickly.
Pock was in front of him in seconds and his large jaws snapped as he lifted his head and tossed the yellow thing out of the water with his round nose.
"What was that?!" Read exclaimed
"A bird." Pock said.
"The ones that fly?" Read asked flexing all his tentacles to be sure they were all still there.
"Yes," Pock said, "But they've never jabbed at me before. They eat small fishies like I do."
"Maybe they thought the tip of my tentacle was a fin." I offered, trying to give the flyers the benefit of the doubt.
Pock seemed unsure.
"Why don't you get on my back and we can talk to them together. I don't want you to get hurt." Pock said.
Read smiled. He was lucky to have such a good friend and he knew it. Pock and him were a team. He swam over and wrapped his tentacles around the large dorsal fin and braced himself for impact as Pock rose up towards the rippling end of the ocean.