There was a nest in the old pump’s intake.
Kesh saw it before Iven had climbed out of the boat. She caught his sleeve and pointed beneath the broken landing, where a mound of pale sticks lay wedged between two iron bars.
One stick moved.
Not a stick. A narrow armored tail, almost the same color as the sun-bleached reeds around it.
“Reed-jaws,” she said.
Orret rested her paddle against the bank.
“How many?”
“More than the one we can see.”
