They had been swimming for several days now. Sometimes sewing an invisible thread of movement through the surface waves of the ocean, other times diving so deep that Chakik had lost track of all time and space. The were heading to the island where Fast Pile, the turtle, was born. The island didn’t have a name and Fast Pile had not told them much about it except that they were “almost there” the last time they saw him, which seemed like months ago to the squirrel.