exclusive Sneak Peak: Read a sample of "sergie and the white seal"

In recognition of hitting our 100th pre-ordered copy of "Sergie and the the White Seal" last weekend, we wanted to share an exclusive never-before-seen sample of the text. Check it out below!

From Sergie and the White Seal:

As Sergie approached the ulax̂, he realized there was no door. How was he supposed to enter? But he didn’t have to wonder long. A dark and raspy voice reached his ears from inside the house. “Sirgiiyax̂… Use the entrance by the smoke hole.” Sergie had not heard his name pronounced in the Unangan way since early childhood, but he was so focused on getting inside the ulax̂ that he didn’t ask the voice how it knew his name, or why it called to him in such a way.

Sergie enters the ulax̂. Illustration by Rebecca Tornberg Båanta.

He leaned over the house slightly to examine the roof. Squinting to see through the smoke, he saw an opening to the left of the smoke hole – an entrance. He climbed onto the roof and sat down beside the entrance, peering down into the dwelling’s interior. It was dark inside, but he could see the top of a log leaning against the side of the opening; it appeared to be a large piece of driftwood with deep notches cut into it at regular intervals, spaced just right for a person to climb easily up or down. He slid his feet into the hole and shifted them until they were secured on the first notch – then he started his descent. 

“Where am I?” Sergie muttered, to no one in particular, as he jumped off the bottom notch of the log onto the dirt ground. He noticed the ground was a vibrant dark red. It reminded him of the Thanksgiving he was seven and spilled a can of cranberry sauce on the floor. Kukax̂ Irena had berated Sergie until her voice was hoarse. Upon closer inspection, Sergie could see it was just a layer of red dirt.

“Aang.” 

Sergie looked up at the greeting and let out a yelp. A cloaked figure wearing an ornately carved wooden mask was seated on a woven grass mat on the floor beside an ixtax̂. The light from the wick burning in the large stone lamp illuminated the figure just enough that Sergie could see he was covered in a floor-length chigdax̂ made entirely of dried and softened sea lion guts. The yellow, crinkly-looking material appeared to completely cover his hands and feet. 

“Sirgiiyax̂,” the figure said again. “Come to me.” 

Sergie stood plastered to the spot by the log-ladder, afraid to go any closer to the figure, who reminded him of a villain from a Japanese anime cartoon. The figure seemed to sense the boy’s fear, for his next words took on a gentler tone. 

“I do not mean to frighten you, Sirgiiyax̂.” The figure coughed, and a puff of dust escaped from the mouth-hole of the mask. “You must forgive me. I do not get many human guests, and I have not spoken in years. I do not wish you harm, Sirgiiyax̂.”

Sergie took a deep breath, choosing to believe what the figure said. He approached with trepidation. As he stepped to one side of the oil-lamp, Sergie noticed that this strange being had no face behind his mask and appeared to be warming invisible hands over the lamp flame. He was no more than spirit. 

Sergie was now close enough to see the sinew stitching on the spirit’s chigdax̂. Suddenly, the mask swiveled. Its empty eyeholes seemed to peer directly at Sergie, and he felt one of the invisible hands close over his upper arm. At the spirit’s touch, the red floor seemed to open up, and they fell through.  

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