A Seal's Rebirth |
how about an awakening story for sealkin?
For as long as she could remember, Freisa was afraid of the ocean. Her mother said it was because when she was a young girl, she fell out of a boat and nearly drowned. She had no recollection of this, but the fear that encompassed her each time she dared set foot in the shallow run of the tides spoke volumes. She very much loved to swim and was known to be an excellent swimmer, though her preference lay in the walled, steadfast security of a local pool.
Yet, despite all this, here she stood on her uncle’s boat, watching the black winter water roll lazily by. They weren’t far enough north to see the ice, but it couldn’t be far away. Her uncle was here to catch black salmon, because, according to him, everyone else was worrying about crabbing at this time of year. There were no signs of any life at all, much less another boat full of people, so she supposed her uncle was right after all. She even searched the waves for evidence that she was not the only creature, but its darkness yielded nothing.
“Frei-sa!” Her cousin Amalie’s singsong voice broke her concentration. As she turned to face mair, she was attacked by a hug.
“See anything interesting in there?” Amalie asked, letting go of maes cousin. Mae had spent most of the morning in the cabin, and if mae had missed anything exciting, mae’d be disappointed.
Freisa turned back toward the ocean with a sigh, “Not yet.” She stared thoughtfully at the bleak horizon. “It seems like we’re all alone out here.”
Mae thought for a moment. “Maybe,” mae suggested with a smile, “all the fish knew you were coming and got scared off! There is that old superstition about women on a ship being bad luck.”
Freisa jabbed playfully at her cousin. “I’m pretty sure rats on a ship are bad luck, too.” Amalie was ratkin, maes soul being that of a rat’s.
“But I’m such a friendly little rat,” mae laughed, putting on an air of innocence.
“And I’m the King of Greenland,” she giggled in response.
The two continued conversing, unaware of the storm approaching on the opposite side of the boat. Neither thunder nor lightning heralded its coming; there was only a strong wind, something not uncommon in open waters. The small fishing boat bobbed slowly with a reassuring gentleness, giving them no cause to turn around. Instead, they were watching the water.
A shadow passed beneath them, catching their eye and prompting Freisa to lean over the railing for a better look. Another, smaller, shadow passed by, along with a flicker of something grey. It didn’t appear to be a fish, but it certainly wasn’t large enough to be a whale. The size was almost human, a fascinating thing, but Freisa could not imagine merfolk living in the reaches of the Arctic. She had always thought of them as a more tropical race, warming their skin and scales on the sands of undiscovered islands.
If only she could get closer, she thought. Another flash of grey caught her eye, and it appeared to be a tail of some sort. It was very small, almost like a foot, and maybe if she’d seen it a minute more, she could tell what it was. There were many more shadows now, zipping about around and beneath the boat, most likely mocking her, the human who faced a legion of shadows and only caught a glimpse of one’s backside.
As if on cue, a wave rose on the opposite side of the boat, dipping her just low enough to fall over the railing and into the frigid water. Amalie screamed.
The shock of the cold struck Freisa quickly, and she gasped, sucking in and choking on the salt water. She managed to sputter at the surface for a moment before a wave pulled her back down; with her lungs now full of air, she opened her eyes.
The water was murky, and the lack of lighting made the already hampered view blurrier. She should have been afraid; every cell in her body firmly believed in the enmity of the ocean when she was on the boat, but now that she was here, it seemed perfect, almost better and warmer than the air. The boat bobbed greyly in her peripheral vision, a symbol of inevitable hot blankets and tears. There were more fascinating things about, however, like those shadows which mysteriously vanished when she fell.
She glanced around, hoping to catch sight of one of these mysterious creatures before she returned to the boat, where Amalie and her uncle were calling to her. Her search proved empty, and as she moved to swim back, her hand brushed against something slippery.
Startled, she turned to face her accidental encounter, finding herself face to face with a grey seal. Its curious eyes were unafraid and familiar, completely disruptive and entrancing. She knew this creature somehow. It was as commonplace as staring into her own reflection, and she felt different, alive in a way that she’d never experienced before. This was where her spirit belonged, roaming free in the arctic, swift and strong. She had awakened.
A loud splash just above her sent her new friend fleeing—a life preserver. Despite the pull of her newly-realized home, she had to return.
The shivers and weariness of the cold began to set in as she left the water. She would be too tired to tell it then, but later, after the hot blanket and tears, she would have quite the story to tell Amalie, and quite the experience to remember. Freisa never feared the ocean again.
[End]
Yet, despite all this, here she stood on her uncle’s boat, watching the black winter water roll lazily by. They weren’t far enough north to see the ice, but it couldn’t be far away. Her uncle was here to catch black salmon, because, according to him, everyone else was worrying about crabbing at this time of year. There were no signs of any life at all, much less another boat full of people, so she supposed her uncle was right after all. She even searched the waves for evidence that she was not the only creature, but its darkness yielded nothing.
“Frei-sa!” Her cousin Amalie’s singsong voice broke her concentration. As she turned to face mair, she was attacked by a hug.
“See anything interesting in there?” Amalie asked, letting go of maes cousin. Mae had spent most of the morning in the cabin, and if mae had missed anything exciting, mae’d be disappointed.
Freisa turned back toward the ocean with a sigh, “Not yet.” She stared thoughtfully at the bleak horizon. “It seems like we’re all alone out here.”
Mae thought for a moment. “Maybe,” mae suggested with a smile, “all the fish knew you were coming and got scared off! There is that old superstition about women on a ship being bad luck.”
Freisa jabbed playfully at her cousin. “I’m pretty sure rats on a ship are bad luck, too.” Amalie was ratkin, maes soul being that of a rat’s.
“But I’m such a friendly little rat,” mae laughed, putting on an air of innocence.
“And I’m the King of Greenland,” she giggled in response.
The two continued conversing, unaware of the storm approaching on the opposite side of the boat. Neither thunder nor lightning heralded its coming; there was only a strong wind, something not uncommon in open waters. The small fishing boat bobbed slowly with a reassuring gentleness, giving them no cause to turn around. Instead, they were watching the water.
A shadow passed beneath them, catching their eye and prompting Freisa to lean over the railing for a better look. Another, smaller, shadow passed by, along with a flicker of something grey. It didn’t appear to be a fish, but it certainly wasn’t large enough to be a whale. The size was almost human, a fascinating thing, but Freisa could not imagine merfolk living in the reaches of the Arctic. She had always thought of them as a more tropical race, warming their skin and scales on the sands of undiscovered islands.
If only she could get closer, she thought. Another flash of grey caught her eye, and it appeared to be a tail of some sort. It was very small, almost like a foot, and maybe if she’d seen it a minute more, she could tell what it was. There were many more shadows now, zipping about around and beneath the boat, most likely mocking her, the human who faced a legion of shadows and only caught a glimpse of one’s backside.
As if on cue, a wave rose on the opposite side of the boat, dipping her just low enough to fall over the railing and into the frigid water. Amalie screamed.
The shock of the cold struck Freisa quickly, and she gasped, sucking in and choking on the salt water. She managed to sputter at the surface for a moment before a wave pulled her back down; with her lungs now full of air, she opened her eyes.
The water was murky, and the lack of lighting made the already hampered view blurrier. She should have been afraid; every cell in her body firmly believed in the enmity of the ocean when she was on the boat, but now that she was here, it seemed perfect, almost better and warmer than the air. The boat bobbed greyly in her peripheral vision, a symbol of inevitable hot blankets and tears. There were more fascinating things about, however, like those shadows which mysteriously vanished when she fell.
She glanced around, hoping to catch sight of one of these mysterious creatures before she returned to the boat, where Amalie and her uncle were calling to her. Her search proved empty, and as she moved to swim back, her hand brushed against something slippery.
Startled, she turned to face her accidental encounter, finding herself face to face with a grey seal. Its curious eyes were unafraid and familiar, completely disruptive and entrancing. She knew this creature somehow. It was as commonplace as staring into her own reflection, and she felt different, alive in a way that she’d never experienced before. This was where her spirit belonged, roaming free in the arctic, swift and strong. She had awakened.
A loud splash just above her sent her new friend fleeing—a life preserver. Despite the pull of her newly-realized home, she had to return.
The shivers and weariness of the cold began to set in as she left the water. She would be too tired to tell it then, but later, after the hot blanket and tears, she would have quite the story to tell Amalie, and quite the experience to remember. Freisa never feared the ocean again.
[End]