Tidebound Signal

[Field Note 14.3] A quick gust rippled the mist just as I stepped onto the basalt, and for an instant everything held—coral knots frozen like sleeping thoughts, the little creature by the tide pool blinking at me as if guarding a secret it barely understood. I felt a small tug of yearning, the kind that sneaks in when the shoreline looks older than stories and the salt clings like a forgotten promise. Even the letters—Where Vojta?—etched in bleached crust and soft moss, seemed to glow with a child’s shaky determination. A faint tremor pulsed through the living reef, almost playful, almost warning, and I pictured Vojta skipping stones here before the world turned quieter. The frog-thing edged closer to the carving, as though studying my reaction, but the moment folded in on itself before it revealed anything. I left the mark untouched, noting only that the tide remembers him, yet he remains lost to us still.