in over the water. She liked mist. She liked how it swirled and hid things.
As she walked she sang a haunting quiet song. When she sang she could imagine rolling with the ebb and flow of the tides. She could be a seal again. She could forget how her seal skin was well and truly gone, ripped to shreds by the awful monster, the same that had stolen Neptune’s treasure. The same, she thought with a deep feeling of relief, that had been killed by Magnus Fin. Aquella stopped singing and gazed out to sea, glad there were no monsters any more. Her eyes fell to the hole in the sand. She shuddered, thinking about the great task King Neptune was asking of Magnus Fin.
It was hard enough being a selkie with no seal skin. She wondered what it was like to be a boy of both worlds. The selkies considered Magnus Fin their hero, she knew that. But often when she looked at him, spooning Rice Krispies into his mouth at a great rate, or skimming stones, or collecting shells and bones fromthe beach, she saw simply a skinny, shy, dreamy boy. He didn’t look like a hero at all. Were they expecting too much of him?
She sighed and picked up the thread of her song. She sang to the oystercatcher that was using its chisel-like orange beak to crack open a shellfish. Then she plonked herself down on a soft clump of marram grass, lay back, kicked off her shoes, and opened her book.
It was the book about the boy who had turned blind. Aquella had only been ashore for nine months, but could read as well as any eleven-year-old. And she felt very sorry for the boy. He knew people by their voices, she read, which was strange, because at that moment Aquella heard something. She lowered her book and listened. It sounded like a soft howling. She glanced along the beach. No one was there. She looked behind her, but still couldn’t see anyone. The mist rolled towards her. “Haar”, that’s what Ragnor called it. Out of the haar the soft howl came again.
Aquella jumped to her feet. She knew that call. Deep in her selkie bones she knew that call. Her open book fell onto the sand. “Yes?” she called, peering out to sea. “Yes? Who’s there?” Her voice rose with excitement. Now she was sure, the call was coming from the sea. Aquella stared. Was it the swirling mist or was that black rock in the water moving? She ran a few steps forward but didn’t dare go further. “Yes?” she called again. “Who is it?”
Aquella gazed open-mouthed as a black seal emerged from the mist and slithered up onto the rock. The seal rolled itself from side to side, until the seal skin fell back and a girl stood up. The girl on the rock had long blackhair. It spilt down her back. She swung her head and her hair wrapped itself around her and clung to her like a dress.
“Aquella?” the girl on the rock called. “It is you, isn’t it?” The girl lifted an arm and waved.
Aquella, jumping up and down with excitement, waved back. “Lorelie?” she called. “ Fàilte , Lorelie!” Tears sprang to her eyes. Lorelie had been like a kind older sister to Aquella. It was Lorelie who had taught her the old Gaelic songs. It was Lorelie she had turned to when she felt afraid or lonely. And like Aquella, Lorelie too had been a prisoner of the false king, forced to sing whenever he snapped his tentacles. And when Aquella had lost her seal skin it had been Lorelie who had comforted her.
“Yes. It’s me. It’s Aquella! Oh Lorelie!” she shouted “Lorelie!”
Lorelie secured her seal skin, pressing it into a crevice in the rock. Then she dived into the sea. Seconds later she emerged, clad in a red and green dress of seaweed and a necklace of shells. She stood up in the shallow water, shook out the thick coils of her long dark hair then took a shaky step forward. Aquella watched. She knew that time well, moments after the change, when the new body feels as if it might topple over.
From the shore Aquella urged her friend on. “Take it easy, Lorelie. Don’t tread on glass.
As she walked she sang a haunting quiet song. When she sang she could imagine rolling with the ebb and flow of the tides. She could be a seal again. She could forget how her seal skin was well and truly gone, ripped to shreds by the awful monster, the same that had stolen Neptune’s treasure. The same, she thought with a deep feeling of relief, that had been killed by Magnus Fin. Aquella stopped singing and gazed out to sea, glad there were no monsters any more. Her eyes fell to the hole in the sand. She shuddered, thinking about the great task King Neptune was asking of Magnus Fin.
It was hard enough being a selkie with no seal skin. She wondered what it was like to be a boy of both worlds. The selkies considered Magnus Fin their hero, she knew that. But often when she looked at him, spooning Rice Krispies into his mouth at a great rate, or skimming stones, or collecting shells and bones fromthe beach, she saw simply a skinny, shy, dreamy boy. He didn’t look like a hero at all. Were they expecting too much of him?
She sighed and picked up the thread of her song. She sang to the oystercatcher that was using its chisel-like orange beak to crack open a shellfish. Then she plonked herself down on a soft clump of marram grass, lay back, kicked off her shoes, and opened her book.
It was the book about the boy who had turned blind. Aquella had only been ashore for nine months, but could read as well as any eleven-year-old. And she felt very sorry for the boy. He knew people by their voices, she read, which was strange, because at that moment Aquella heard something. She lowered her book and listened. It sounded like a soft howling. She glanced along the beach. No one was there. She looked behind her, but still couldn’t see anyone. The mist rolled towards her. “Haar”, that’s what Ragnor called it. Out of the haar the soft howl came again.
Aquella jumped to her feet. She knew that call. Deep in her selkie bones she knew that call. Her open book fell onto the sand. “Yes?” she called, peering out to sea. “Yes? Who’s there?” Her voice rose with excitement. Now she was sure, the call was coming from the sea. Aquella stared. Was it the swirling mist or was that black rock in the water moving? She ran a few steps forward but didn’t dare go further. “Yes?” she called again. “Who is it?”
Aquella gazed open-mouthed as a black seal emerged from the mist and slithered up onto the rock. The seal rolled itself from side to side, until the seal skin fell back and a girl stood up. The girl on the rock had long blackhair. It spilt down her back. She swung her head and her hair wrapped itself around her and clung to her like a dress.
“Aquella?” the girl on the rock called. “It is you, isn’t it?” The girl lifted an arm and waved.
Aquella, jumping up and down with excitement, waved back. “Lorelie?” she called. “ Fàilte , Lorelie!” Tears sprang to her eyes. Lorelie had been like a kind older sister to Aquella. It was Lorelie who had taught her the old Gaelic songs. It was Lorelie she had turned to when she felt afraid or lonely. And like Aquella, Lorelie too had been a prisoner of the false king, forced to sing whenever he snapped his tentacles. And when Aquella had lost her seal skin it had been Lorelie who had comforted her.
“Yes. It’s me. It’s Aquella! Oh Lorelie!” she shouted “Lorelie!”
Lorelie secured her seal skin, pressing it into a crevice in the rock. Then she dived into the sea. Seconds later she emerged, clad in a red and green dress of seaweed and a necklace of shells. She stood up in the shallow water, shook out the thick coils of her long dark hair then took a shaky step forward. Aquella watched. She knew that time well, moments after the change, when the new body feels as if it might topple over.
From the shore Aquella urged her friend on. “Take it easy, Lorelie. Don’t tread on glass.
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