Little Crab lived in a rock pool that was exactly the size of a bath tub. She knew this because she had measured it herself, very carefully, by crawling along every edge and counting the stones.
Forty-three stones along the long side. Twenty-nine along the short side. She had counted them many times.
She knew every part of her pool. The smooth pebble near the centre where the sun warmed the water first. The crack under the big rock where a small fish named Nip sometimes hid. The patch of green weed that waved in the current and tasted salty and sharp.
But there was one thing Little Crab did not know.
Beyond the edge of the rock pool, the water stretched away into something she had never seen. Sometimes, when the tide was very high, a wave would wash over the rim and bring her a shell she had never touched before, or a strand of seaweed that smelled of faraway places.
"What is out there?" she asked Nip one morning.
Nip wriggled out from under his rock. "Lots of water," he said. "More than this. Way more."
"How much more?"
Nip thought. "A thousand bath tubs," he said. "Maybe a million."
Little Crab could not imagine a million bath tubs. She could barely imagine a hundred.
"Has anyone from our pool ever gone out there?" she said.
Nip was quiet for a moment. "Barnacle Bill tried once," he said. "But he came back the same day. Said it was too big and he missed his rock."
Little Crab looked at the edge of the pool. The water shimmered in the afternoon light, and beyond it the world was blue and unknown.
She wanted to see it.
That night, when the moon was bright and the tide pulled the water away from the shore, Little Crab sat at the very edge of her pool and looked out at the wet sand that stretched toward the sea. The water had retreated far into the distance, leaving everything damp and silvery under the moon.
She could crawl out now. The way was open. But the sea was so far away, and the sand was so wide, and she did not know how to get back.
So she waited.
She waited through the low tide. She waited through the turning of the water. She felt the cold beginning to creep back, felt the first small wave touch the edge of the pool, tasted the salt of the returning tide.
The water rose. It filled the pool again and climbed higher, up the sides of the rocks, up toward the ledge where Little Crab sat.
And then it went over the top.
For a moment, Little Crab was floating. The water lifted her off the ledge and carried her forward, over the rim of the pool, out into the wide world beyond.
"Goodbye!" called Nip from somewhere behind her.
"Goodbye!" she called back, and the current took her.
The ocean was enormous. It was deeper and bluer and colder than anything Little Crab had imagined. The water moved in ways she did not understand — up and down and sideways all at once. Strange creatures drifted past. A jellyfish as clear as glass. A school of tiny fish that moved like a single silver hand.
Little Crab tumbled and spun. She tried to grab onto something, but there was nothing solid — just water, water, endless water.
She was scared. She had never been scared in her rock pool. She knew every stone, every crack, every hiding place. Here, there were no hiding places. Here, she was just a tiny crab in a vast ocean, being carried by a tide she could not control.
But she did not close her eyes. She looked.
She saw the sandy bottom falling away beneath her, replaced by rocks covered in pink and orange growths. She saw a fish that was striped like a zebra. She saw sunlight streaming down in long golden beams that reached all the way to the bottom.
And then the tide began to turn.
The water slowed. The current slackened. Little Crab felt herself drifting in a wide circle, the water undecided about which way to push her.
She looked around. She had been carried to a place where the sea floor was covered in seagrass, waving gently in the current like a field on land. A turtle the size of a dinner plate was floating past, looking at her with calm, ancient eyes.
"Hello," said Little Crab.
The turtle blinked slowly. "You are very small," it said.
"I know," said Little Crab. "I am from a rock pool back there. The tide brought me."
The turtle considered this. "And now the tide is taking you back," he said. "You should go with it. A small crab cannot swim against the ocean."
Little Crab looked in the direction of the returning current. It was flowing back toward the shore, toward the place where her rock pool waited.
"Will I make it?" she asked.
"If you let the water carry you," said the turtle. "Do not fight. Just float."
Little Crab did as he said. She stopped trying to paddle. She stopped trying to steer. She let the tide take her, and the water lifted her gently and carried her back the way it had brought her.
The rocks of the shore grew closer. The water shallowed. And then she felt something familiar — the smooth edge of her rock pool, rising beneath her.
She tumbled over the rim and landed in the warm, shallow water with a splash.
She was home.
Nip shot out from under his rock. "You came back!"
"I came back," said Little Crab.
She crawled up onto her favourite stone and sat there, breathing hard, watching the water settle around her. The pool was warm and familiar and exactly the size of a bath tub. Forty-three stones long. Twenty-nine stones wide.
It was perfect.
But it was not the whole world.
"What was it like?" asked Nip.
Little Crab thought. "Big" she said. "And blue. And I saw a turtle."
"A turtle! What did it say?"
"It said to not fight the tide."
Nip looked at her with new respect. "Are you going to go again?"
Little Crab looked at the edge of the pool. The water shimmered in the afternoon light, and beyond it the world was still blue and unknown.
"Someday," she said. "When the tide is right."