Quack — Preep

And one moment, just before sunset, he quacked at nothing at all— preep —and the preep didn’t feel wrong anymore. It felt like a key turning in a lock.

He swam back to the other ducks. They started to snicker, but Pip raised his beak high. quack preep

Then he took a breath and quacked a long, wobbly, impossible sentence: "The water is cold—preep—the sky is sweet—preep—and I’m not broken—preep—I’m just in two notes—preep—like a song that’s learning to sing itself." And one moment, just before sunset, he quacked

And the bog filled with strange, beautiful, imperfect sounds: croak-ding, squawk-moo, quack-boing, hiss-pop. They started to snicker, but Pip raised his beak high

He just swam, and quacked, and preeped —and the world was wide enough for both.

From a hollow log came a tiny, rhythmic sound: Tick. Tick. Tock.

Hodge looked up. "You heard my boop," he said. It wasn’t a question.