[Scour the Beaches] Little Courage

The beach was quiet except for the gentle push and pull of the tide and the distant chatter of gulls. Pinku liked it that way. Quiet meant fewer eyes on him, fewer chances for anyone to notice his clumsy paws fumbling with whatever task he was attempting. And today’s task was… well, ambitious.

In the distance, Aremis trotted down the path from the sand dunes, his orange coat catching the morning light like the first flickers of a sunrise. He had the easy, unhurried gait of someone who lived far from the rush of cities and the noise of busy city centres. A like-minded friend who liked simple things like staying in on sunny days with a book in paw or collecting shiny pebbles just to admire them later. "Pinku!" Aremis called, voice warm and bubbling with excitement. A bow bobbed from his chest as he slowed to join Pinku at the tide line. "Are you ready?"

Pinku gave a sheepish smile. "As ready as I’ll ever be. You brought the bag?"

"Yep! All empty. We’re going to fill it with the best ship parts anyone’s ever seen."

"Model ship parts," Pinku corrected quickly, glancing nervously at the waves pushing and pulling from the shore. The water never came close enough to touch his paws, but even so, he edged back when a larger swell foamed toward his paws. "We’re not… y’know… making a real boat."

Aremis chuckled. "Of course. Little Courage, remember? She’s going to have her first voyage in the the shallow tide pools."

Pinku exhaled, trying not to let his shoulders sag with relief. A ship that couldn’t take him more than a few steps from shore was the best kind of ship.

They started where the beach curved towards rocky outcroppings. There, the tide left behind driftwood in all shapes and sizes. Some bleached bone-white by sun and others dark with age and water. "We need a good hull," Aremis said seriously, scanning the sand like a seasoned shipwright, or at least how he thought one might look in the stories they’d read. "Something solid but not too heavy."

Pinku pawed at a piece of wood longer than his leg, after only a moment of searching. "What about this?"

Aremis tilted his head, studying it. "Hmm… it’s too warped. Little Courage’ll tilt if we use that."

Pinku’s ears twitched. "We could… saw it down? Trim the crooked parts?"

"We could. But…" Aremis turned, spotting another piece lodged between two rocks near the sea. He scampered over and pulled it free triumphantly. "Aha!"

It was flatter, smoother, still rough, but could be sanded without losing shape. "Perfect," Pinku admitted, brushing grains of sand from its surface. "That’s the base. The keel."

"The keel," Aremis repeated, savoring the word. "That’s ship language, isn’t it?"

"Yep. Read it in The Seven Ships of Castle Town Lothain." Pinku said proudly after remembering something useful from their endless story nights.

They stored the piece in their bag and moved on, gathering thinner pieces for the sides. Aremis preferred looking for structural wood first whereas Pinku was distracted every few minutes by something shiny. 

"Look at this shell!" he called for the fourth time, holding up a spiral the color of pale peach just like him. "It could go right at the bow!"

Pinku tucked it into the bag along with three pieces of sea glass and what might have been part of a lantern hinge once upon a time. "She’ll be beautiful."

"She has to float first," Aremis reminded him.

By midday, their bags were heavy with treasures from the shore. They had found a single flat, sturdy plank that would serve as the base of their little vessel, along with several thinner ones for forming its sides. A short, straight stick had been set aside to become the mast, and a tangle of dried seaweed, which Pinku was pretty sure could be braided into rope, rested on top of the pile. The most exciting find had been a small scrap of striped cloth that Pinku had spotted caught in the sand, nearly buried, the faded colors still bright enough to make a beautiful sail. Finally, tucked safely at the very bottom of the bag, they had gathered an assortment of shells, sea glass, and smooth, round stones that would serve as the ship’s decorations, each piece carefully chosen for its shine, shape, or simply the way it made them smile. The sun was higher now, and Pinku yearned to retreat to the shade of the dunes. But Aremis wasn’t quite done.

"We still need the figurehead," he said, his tail flicking with excitement. "Every great ship has one."

Pinku glanced towards the beach, where a glimmer of something pale caught his attention just beyond the tide line. "There’s something over there," he said hesitantly.

Aremis followed his gaze, then grinned. "Bet that’s it. Come on!"

"You go," Pinku said quickly, taking a deliberate step back. "I’ll guard the bag."

Aremis only laughed, used to his friend’s hesitance. He bounded into the shallows, waves splashing harmlessly at his ankles, and plucked the object from the sand. It turned out to be a piece of carved wood, worn smooth by water, vaguely shaped like a bird with its wings spread. 

"Oh," Pinku breathed, leaning in for a peek as Aremis returned. "That’s perfect!"

"It’ll go right at the bow," Aremis said again, tucking it into the bag with care. "Like it’s guiding us on our adventures."

They chose a flat spot amid the sand to work, laying out their treasures. Pinku crouched beside the planks, ears flicked back as he concentrated. "So… we nail the sides here…" He mumbled as if holding a hammer, though they had only small nails and a rock to drive them in. "Then the mast goes… there. And the sail ties like… this."

Aremis settled beside him, already braiding the seaweed into rope. "I think the shells should go along the sides."

"That’s perfect!" Pinku answered enthusiastically, loving the idea.

They worked slowly and carefully. Pinku hammered the planks together, wincing every time the nail bent or the wood splintered, muttering under his breath and occasionally needing to forage for new pieces. Aremis handled the finer tasks. Tying knots, threading shells and attaching the sail so it billowed just right in the breeze.

When the last shell was glued and the last rope tied, they both sat back.

"There she is," Aremis said softly.

Little Courage.

She was uneven in places, and the mast leaned to one side, but the pale sail caught the breeze and the carved bird at the bow seemed ready to soar across the sea. Pinku felt a knot in his chest loosen. "It’s… actually kind of amazing."

"Told you," Aremis said, nudging his shoulder. "Now. Test sail?"

Pinku hesitated, glancing toward the tide pools. The water there was calm, barely more than ankle-deep and hesitated.

"We’ll stay right by her," Aremis promised, reading his concern like an open book. "She won’t go farther than we can reach."

The tide pool was warm from the sun, its surface shimmering. Pinku stood at the edge while Aremis waded in, holding Little Courage. "Ready?"

Pinku nodded, watching expectantly and Aremis set the little ship down gently. For a heartbeat, it wobbled, and then it steadied, bobbing lightly on the ripples.

"She floats!" Aremis laughed. "Look, Pinku!"

Pinku inched forward until his paws touched the water, heart pounding. But when he saw the ship, something inside him softened. Little Courage looked alive, as if she wanted to explore, even in her tiny, safe world. "She’s perfect," Pinku said quietly.

They stayed there until the shadows grew long, taking turns pushing Little Courage around the pool, imagining voyages to distant coves, daring escapes from imaginary sea beasts, and treasure found on sunlit sandy shores. Pinku never once stepped deeper than his ankles, but as one of those rare occasions, the water didn’t feel like an enemy.

And maybe that was the whole point of Little Courage.