To him, it became a map. For he could sense something interrupting the thrums. Just as islands interrupted waves in the ocean, something interrupted these pulses. He’d have to travel more to make a complete map, but he could feel what wasn’t there. All because of years spent with his fingers in the water, learning to speak the language of the ocean. The abyss might not have the type of water he was used to, but it spoke the same language.
