Thessaly had composed new songs since sailors had gotten wise to how to cross her sea unscathed.
Deep, dark, and slow like a whale’s heartbeat, her voice sank, and swept the seafloor. In the bright shallows the sand grew much-articulated legs as crabs were drawn to her and dug themselves out of their hollows. Further out, it was the big octopuses, tentacles streaming behind them as they hurried to find the source of the melody.
Thessaly shifted it, halting the animals’ motion. She would have to practise making them do what she wanted, but it was a good start.