Current unsettled

The strait howled-a split vein in the world, cliffs screaming past in a blur of stone and shadow. The boat wasn’t drifting now; it was hurtling, skimming the skin of the river with a violence that left the air raw. Bop gripped the oar, cloak snapping behind them, short black hair plastered to theirskull by the wind. The current was a living thing, a beast with a thousand teeth, dragging them forward, faster, faster, as if the water itself was trying to outrun the night.