Tides South Padre Island Novels & Stories

The armada is still a mile or so away, but closing in with every passing second. Logan turns the boat violently west, tipping dangerously to the side. The Asteria and Atropos fade into the background. I turn to look at Logan, wishing we had the ability to mind-link and cursing myself for rejecting him once again, but he says to Sawyer, “That group of islands six leagues away, which direction does the current run during low tide?” “You’re joking, right?” Sawyer asks, leaning toward the map with his arms crossed tightly over his chest. “We’ll runaground. There’s a reef there and sandbars that stretch more than a mile at low tide!”