And Woe that She Should Wet Her Feet

[SK Wynter]

[size="2"]((OOC: This is an open topic.))[/size]
[hr]

What was it about that wondrous blue? That vast expanse, the oceanic way? Foam and tide licked at her feet — bare as the stones that held creatures discreet. Indeed, the unnaturally pale lass had nearly had a toe clipped by a wayward crab, the child of Cancer scuttling across the stones after she apologized most dearly. Like her, they were but allies, compatriots, both lost upon a speck in the great and unchanging waves.

What was it about those of albinism, with their pale skin, white hair and sharp, blue and red eyes? Why were they held up so high in culture, so demonized and worshipped, because of a mere trait that came with drawbacks like photophobia? Here she stood, at the edge of her abandoned little isle, a living stereotype of the white and mysterious waif. She clutched tightly the scrap of a thick hide, taken from a fur seal she had ambushed some time before.

Annan Rusby had stood many times on that stony shore. She watched, with her red eyes calm, as the horizon never changed. A boat in the distance, yes, or some sort of migrating whale, but neither came for her. She wasn't quite sure either why she was waiting; she had dragged herself, a year and a half prior, onto the deserted shore with a bloodied head. Clinging to life after letting go of a scrap of wood, she remembered little: a storm. A gunshot. A tipping boat and hissing electronics, sparks flying as saltwater overtook the electrical system. And then her, in the water, dead and back again, this barren place her only sanctuary. She tried to remember, yes, picking at the lonesome corners of her mind, only to grow uncomfortable and migraine-ridden as she did.

Repressed memories. There was a pea under the mattress, but the princess, despite her searching, her tearing, her taking a knife and cutting through the many layers with surgical precision, could not find it. Something in the deep was there, but perhaps for her sanity's sake, Annan's mind refused to yield. As such, she was forced to obey some long-gone instinct, standing at the shore and searching for human attention. That is, when the days were cloudy; the albino's pink-red eyes could barely focus as it was. Bright lights only gave way to sharp pain, knives of the sun bearing down, slicing at her malformed rods and cones and sensitive pupil.

Upon the island of rock and water-creature, where no tree stood and the air was cold and salty, one might of thought Annan to snap. Isolation made the heart grow fonder, until it became jealous, delusional and needy. The mind would bend as the heart began to crack and rot, emotions strained like birds against wind and logic shrivelling like dry seaweed. Indeed, she had considered the thought of walking out into the high tide, throwing away her seal's hide to prevent any possible barrier between her and hypothermia. But woe if she should wet her feet — her pale, calloused feet with its dirty, long nails — and her head dip under, only for a hand to reach down and save her. To not reach back, to watch as help watched helplessly, the bubbles rising from her mouth in plumes of life then lost? Madness. Pure, utter madness that would make for a restless soul to haunt that little island's shores.

And thus, she waited. Annan Rusby, albino, amnesiac and alone, waited for someone to take her from her prison upon the sea.


[hr]

Edited December 24, 2010 by SK Wynter

[Sargun II]

The boy had never been out of Africa for the first sixteen years of his life. Over the past sixteen, he had rarely been back. His newfound wealth kept him in material possessions heaven, and the last thing he wanted to do was return to the hellhole that had been disease, poverty, and violence. His mother, claimed by the disease that his adopted father had survived, was no longer there to bring him back. He no longer received letters from his old family. His new one rarely talked to him.

To take his mind off of the depressing last few months, he decided he wanted to go on adventure. Like his adopted mother and father, like his sister, he wanted to go on an adventure once more. He looked through the [i]Artemis[/i] satellite photographs and found something that he didn't completely understand: an island. A small, miserable little island that seemed to be uninhabited. With renewed confidence, he found himself the next day setting sail from the headquarters and sailing in the direction of this new haven. The man didn't know what he would do - maybe he would come here like his adopted father went to Jerusalem? The questions in his head roamed freely for a few days as he continued to sail. A journal began to grow. He felt at peace.

Finally, after over a week of swift traveling, he arrived at the island. It was something out of a romantic novel from centuries past: a rocky, lonely island away from the rest of civilization and ready to be explored. As his yacht neared the shore, he saw something. "Doth mine eyes deceive me?" he muttered quite unnecessarily. The boat slowed to a crawl as he came ever closer, and the figure defined itself. It was humanoid, all right, and the man was perturbed. The person was dressed in what looked like hide and stood mute on the shore. He blinked multiple times to make sure he was still awake, then walked to the edge of the deck.

Raising his hands in the air and waving vigorously, he yelled out. "Hello? Hello!" His craft slowed to a stop. This was as far as he could go without swimming to the island.

[SK Wynter]

What was the reason and why had he came? Who owned the boat that looked so much the same? The young albino looked far out to sea; she barely saw the outline, much less a figure...that was calling.

"Hello? Hello!"

A human voice on the wind, distant as a dream; Annan blinked in surprise, not sure what to think. She took a little step into the tickling waves, straining her eyes to make out what she saw. Overhead seagulls cried out loud, their bellowing the trumpets greeting the man who had come around. To block out the sun, even with weakening from the clouds, she raised a hand to better see the visitor about.

"...Hello?"

Her voice was cracked; how long had she been mute? How long had her voice been in disuse? Her vocal cords dry, her throat feeling weak, she tried to yell again with a slightly louder, "Hello!"

The lonely rocks of the island echoed with her voice. It gave a sense of identity to this girl on the shore; her voice had a lilt, somewhere from the North, from a land of woad and bagpipes blasting full. The Scottish accent was not too thick, so it had to be listened to to discern. Otherwise, it would be drowned among crying seabirds and barking seals, lapping water and scuttling beasts on the rocks. Just as the sea could sweep everything out in a single take, so too had the sea taken her for so long.

[Sargun II]

[i]"Hello!"[/i]

The man winced slightly. The female voice sounded like it hadn't been used in only God knows how long. He let out a sigh and waved his arm once more, then ran to the back of his boat. The emergency inflatable would have to be used - whoever that girl was, he wasn't about to take chances. Had he come across a runaway? A stranded passenger from a shipwreck? A criminal, perhaps? No matter the situation, a girl dressed in skins on a lonely island probably needed to be taken back to civilization. His adventure was here.

He attached the inflatable to a pump and watched as, in seconds, it popped up to full size and propelled itself off to the side of the boat. The resilient, orange inflatable had served him well over the past few months and would perform admirably again. He grabbed his favorite canteen and hopped onto the inflatable. The man held on lightly as the miniature engine on the inflatable came to life and slowly propelled him to the coast. It was a slow ride but safe and comfortable. After the long silence of his trip to the shore, he hopped over and walked carefully to the girl.

"Well... Hello."

He was still several feet away, but he could tell she was different. He had seen many of her kind before, back home - children whose hands were cut off, their knees used to make potions, their skin flayed off and used to ward spirits. Albino children whose lives were short and filled with agony. He wondered if she had been let here as some sort of torture. As he wondered this, he also pictured himself watching this from a distance - an unusually tall male from the heart of Africa, dark as the night, across from the palest of white figures dressed in skins.

"Who are you? Are you okay?" He held out his canteen.

[SK Wynter]

There came the buzz of an engine, a motor — a boat was coming towards where she stood. Her weak eyes did strain more, trying to see from the shore; something large and orange came her way. Her heart skipped a beat, breath hitching in her throat; was Annan to be saved? Was this what she had been waiting for?

The boat drew ever closer, and she bit her lip. Rocking back and forth to the sway of the sea, she stood stock-still as someone came to the shore. He rode an inflatable like a horse beneath a knight; his skin was nut brown, and he had the figure of a giant. The waif did bend like a willow in the wind, stepping back from a presence she found overwhelming and strange. It was a man, his human company suddenly making her wary; she wasn't expecting a [i]man[/i] to be coming ashore.

"Well...hello," was the giant's reaction. Annan blinked, trying to discern his facial features. Weather-worn was he, his voice distinctly foreign — African, perhaps? It would not be a surprise. The fur seals that lay dead, gave birth, lived on the rocks — they were beasts of the Southern Hemisphere, Africa firmly placed there. She looked warily at something being held out, her eyes making out something that looked to be round.

"Who are you? Are you okay?"

A question of identity after silence so long. Annan tried to think; what could she say? To talk to a man, a person from afar, after living so long as a hermit on that shore. She clutched her skin tight, the barest of rags there beneath, shakily straddling the line between decent and not. She felt so exposed, so unready for the encounter; from her mind came a silent, protective prayer.

And then, from the blue, words came to her: "My mother was the sea and I came from her."

[hr]

Edited December 22, 2010 by SK Wynter

[Sargun II]

[i]"My mother was the sea and I came from her."[/i]

He blinked and held himself back from laughing. Had he stumbled across a wild child? "Do you have a name, then?"

He looked over this girl, this child of the sea, and suddenly felt a pitying sensation. Had she been in civilization, her parents would have been arrested on indecency charges for what little she had. Whatever mental torture she had to go through getting those skins onto her body, he didn't want to know, although he probably did. She looked deathly scared, there, as if he were to hurt her. Maybe she had been traumatized? A thousand questions ran through his head, but he felt like he needed to go slow. Children from the tribe generally reacted to kindness more than force.

"I do. If you will tell me yours, I will tell you mine." His deep voice seemed almost comically too powerful, but it was something he had honed for years. It was a mixture of gentleness and strength, a comforting voice that he often found worked on people much older than the girl before him. He set the canteen on the ground and looked at the girl, waiting.

[SK Wynter]

"Do you have a name, then?"

Her name was Annan; it was the name of a river. A river whose name meant "water" in a dead, Celtic tongue. Her full name was Annan Rusby, and she could barely remember a thing; the gunshot and the storm and how the sparking did sing. She dressed in tatters, she spoke in raspy tones, and there was a man standing right across from her. Her mother was the sea and she came from her. Was that not enough? No, it never would be. Such was the turn of logic from the child from the sea.

"I do. If you will tell me yours, I will tell you mine," the giant said. Annan bit her lip at the question, wary of attack; if he knew her name, would be his weapon? Would he use it somehow, in ways perverse and unseemly? There were stories of names, names sacred and true, that gave power and sway over the person they knew. The water-named girl was afraid of such a thing, even if common sense dictated it was an impossible thing.

The pea then shifted. The mattress had changed. Annan felt her heart flutter; a name and a gun. Her name and a gun, the storm and the sea; her mother did lap, continuing quietly. Sing-song gulls flew overhead — throaty was their screech over fish that lay dead. Barking and bellowing were the seals of the sea, worn by Annan out of common need. The silence was broken, hesitant was she; yet Annan wished to escape her mother, the mother that was the sea.

"Annan Rusby."

[Sargun II]

[i]"Annan Rusby."[/i]

The man stared at the girl after she gave her name, but this was progress. He was pleasantly surprised at her name, being quite close to his own despite her being from a place far from here, he was sure of it. He smiled and crouched down a bit, getting eye-level with the girl. "Thank you. My name is Adnan," he replied, the letter d in the word almost impossible to hear. "Adnan... Hiley." He had three last names to choose from, and he eventually decided on the least intimidating of them all. He reached out with a large hand to the girl and opened it, palm facing up.

"Do you know why you are here? Do you... do you want to leave?"

Hopefully she would answer yes to both. The girl didn't seem as if she were having a blast on this island of seals, and someone as seemingly traumatized as her probably remembered what she went through. Adnan felt a sense of urging to get the girl away - albino children were, despite heavy crackdowns on native cultures, still wanted heavily for their rarity. Albino children were, Adnan remembered, considered to be subhuman. The longer she stayed here, the more likely she would be picked up by some sort of monster.

[Lestari]

"Mechanical troubles? [i]Again[/i]?"

Captain Jie Jieng glared at the soldier before him, who winced--quite understandably, from Jieng's track record. This was a Cochin vessel, of course, but much of the crew was Xinyan, and that meant much of the crew, even if unofficially, was under Jieng's jurisdiction. The Xinyan military was not known for its kind, understanding soldiers and officers--quite the opposite, and Jieng, as it happened, was the model of a Xinyan officer.

"The techs are still identifying exactly what the problem is," the young crewman continued, speaking a bit too fast. "They've only told me that it's major, and we'll have to set anchor at a nearby island; we haven't got the supplies to repair the problem and get back to port, so we'll have to call in support."

Jieng grimaced. "Ugh. There's always something wrong with this damn ship," he growled to himself before turning his steely eyes back to the soldier before him. "What island is this that they've pinpointed?"

"Not sure, it doesn't register on any records. We're in international waters though, so we should have no trouble with this island."

"Very well," Captain Jieng turned away from the soldier to his desk. "Set a course, then."

The freighter slowly but surely spun around, and began to make its way towards an island in the distance.


Only an hour or two later, crewmen, sailors, and soldiers were trekking over the island's terrain; behind them, not far in the distance, the freighter sat on the surface of the ocean; its ashen metal hull was strangely ominous and foreboding, like a great beast of the unknown.

Jieng, arriving on the island last, scowled. "It's more like a rock than an island," he grumbled as he ordered the men around, setting up camp and preparing to make contact with the command. "They'd better get a ship here soon..." He removed his peaked cap momentarily to wipe beads of sweat from his forehead as the African sun beat down upon them from above. First technical problems with the ship, now he was stranded on this little island in this unbearable heat, awaiting the arrival of support ships. Jieng was coming to be in a very bad mood today.

OOC: I'm thinking they'll be somewhere on the other side of the island, dunno how large it is.

[SK Wynter]

((OOC: It's a rock in the middle of the sea. It's the size of Central Park, and the elevation goes up on the middle of the island, separating the two sides. It's more hill than cliff, though.))

[hr]

"Thank you. My name is Adnan."

Her pink eyes widened just a little. She barely heard the soft dee of the first syllable; he, too, sounded as if he had been named after the river.

"Adnan...Hiley."

Annan Rusby. Adnan Hiley. So similar were the names and the sounds contained within. Annan felt strange, as if her mind was going distant; he had come on a boat, he had also come from the sea. "Kinship" was the word to describe it properly — she saw kin in this giant of the sea.

"Do you know why you are here? Do you...do you want to leave?"

Why had she come here? Wanted what did she? A chance to leave the island of the child of the sea. Her home and prison, an outpost manned by one, where the seals grew fat and their pups did run. She held her pelt close like a selkie maiden cornered; apprehension struck the heart of the child of the sea. He seemed kindly enough, kin she did see....

A seagull's crying broke her thoughts free.

"...I don't know why I'm here," said the girl, who was not really a girl at all. She was sixteen years old, had just turned a few weeks ago; she never knew this, as she had lost all track of time. Visions of the storm and the sparks came to her.

"I was lost."

[Sargun II]

[i]"...I don't know why I'm here. I was lost."[/i]

"And now am found," he replied.

He kept his hand offered to her open and lightly bobbed it up and down. "If you would take my hand, we can go to my boat. You can get clothes, food, water. I have maps. You can tell me where home is." He spoke slowly, as he didn't want to act as if he were attempting to take her. "I do not think it is very safe here," he added. "A girl alone on an island attracts unwanted visitors. Let me help you." He hoped that if anything, the fear of being caught by someone who was worse than he was would urge her to come.

Adnan didn't know what it was, but he felt that if he didn't take the girl, he'd be committing a wrong. A sin would weigh on his heart. He told himself to be patient - she would eventually come.

[SK Wynter]

She could clothe herself in hides and feathers, just as Karana, the woman of the Blue Dolphin, had. She could take a rock and sharpen it, hiding in wait for an unwary seal and pursuing it with all the vengeance Ahab had after his whale. She could drink from pools of rainfall and purify saltwater, even resorting to purifying her own urine like the Mariner had in [i]Waterworld[/i]. And as for a map? She needed none. The geography of her isle was too insignificant to place on a map — a speck in the world, like her. The island was home, as depressing as it could be. Her Scottish accent indicated ethnicity, not a place of residence.

"...A girl alone on an island attracts unwanted visitors. Let me help you."

"A man alone with a girl attracts her hesitation. What do you want?"

There was distrust in her voice, her head swimming with it. There was the gun and there was the [i]bang[/i]; he came from a place not safe for one like her. She looked at the ground, pink eyes the same — neutral as the stirring water, her mind crackling like wood in a bonfire. Why was she feeling this way? Annan wanted to flee, not to stay; yet, it didn't feel right. A normal feeling for those attached to such a place, having been stuck so long, growing on them in lieu of their race.

The storm and the ship. The sparks. The gun. Something else, something about him.

"I don't have a home," said Annan. "My mother put me here and I live here, with the seals. My mother is the sea and I came from her." Again, those strange words that, to Annan, felt and sounded right.


[hr]

Edited December 22, 2010 by SK Wynter

[Lestari]

"Get contact with the command!" Captain Jieng barked. "Tell them to send support, and quickly. Rotting here in this heat for a week doesn't appeal to me."

The troops had set up camp, and in a nearby tent a number of soldiers were making contact with the command. Others were sitting on boulders and on the ground itself, their guns slung over their shoulders. Jieng glanced around at these troops, who looked back warily.

"You four," he suddenly indicated his head at the four highest ranking officers besides himself. "Let's go see what else is on this island. We might find something."

The four soldiers stood obediently and followed Jieng, carrying their rifles with them. They walked over the island's terrain, occasionally drinking from the canteens of water that hung around their necks; however, they found nothing until they cleared over the hill that seemed to separate two halves of the island.

"What's that?" an officer muttered. Jieng turned, and the officer pointed to two shapes, vaguely visible in the distance, standing on the beach; behind them, the shape of a boat. Jieng grabbed a pair of binoculars from his coat, and peered through them down at the two figures, making out finer details: a girl, unusually pale, wearing what looked like animal hides, and a man, rather better dressed, to whom the boat probably belonged. Jieng's eyes were keen as he removed the binoculars. "Let's get down there. If anything, they may know something about this trouble we're having with the ship, or about this island."

He began descending down the hill towards the figures, followed by the soldiers, approaching the man and the woman.

[Sargun II]

OOC: So sorry.//

"What do I want? To see you safe," Adnan answered. "Do you remember your mother? Your real mother. Not the s - "

Adnan quickly moved his hand to his side and reflexively groped the pistol that was always hidden in his coat pocket. Five men, led by what looked like an officer or captain of some sort, were walking in their direction. They had rifles. The island itself was nothing but a hilly rock, with nothing that would scream to him 'strategic value'. It straddled the border between his home nation and the one that he had a home in, but was not contested. He wasn't entirely sure that many knew of the island in the first place. Beyond that, these men looked... Oriental. They weren't from here. Adnan wasn't even sure they had the necessary permits to be here, but that was overthinking things.

After his million questions settled into his brain, he let go of the pistol but noted mentally it was now loose from its holster and ready to grab.

"Hail, sirs," he spoke.

[SK Wynter]

[i]Don't you dare say the sea,[/i] said Annan's eyes, her mouth cemented shut by a frown. The look she gave him questioned what he was saying. [i]Don't you [b]dare[/b] call me a liar. My mother was the sea and I came from her.[/i]

[i]Crunch crunch.[/i]

Footsteps.

More people.

With a pivot as sudden as a flick of the wrist, the child of the sea turned to meet the eyes of Oriental men. They clothed themselves blandly and uniformly — members of some sort of organization. The first thing Annan's memory-sifting mind came up with was that they were part of some armed force. Her hand tensed as it held the edge of the pelt.

A storm and a gun. A storm and a fear. A storm and a gun, and a military man's hand. [i]Keer-RACK![/i] went the mental lightning, the pea shifting, a jolt of adrenaline ripping through her body in a surge. Her eyes showed discomfort as the not-so-redly-coated troop came marching, marching, marching.

Stones crackled in a shift of her foot. White hair flashed in a tangled curtain. She had not seen the giant reach for his pistol, as her eyes had been locked with those of the Asians. She ran right away from their vision, a moving, survival-seeking flash of a sixteen-year old. The shore gave way and kicked up beneath her feet, pebbles tumbling and clicking, the girl headed for higher elevation. In the direction she moved, a sharp, sheer cliff rose above the sea, a horde of fur seals bellowing and barking. Judging by how she was scaling the hill, Annan had done this before.


[hr]

Edited December 23, 2010 by SK Wynter

[Lestari]

Driven by instincts sharpened by years of military training, the soldiers, surprised by the sudden movement, began to raise their rifles. Captain Jieng raised his hand, however, and they lowered the rifles again, regaining themselves as the girl dashed right past them. His sharp eyes followed her inquisitively, but he determined that he didn't really care much about her. This strange girl clad in skins and her more....civilised companion were of no concern to Jieng; only finding out just where the hell he was, that was currently his concern.

Turning back to the man, Jieng strode over to him. "Captain Jie Jieng of the Xinyan Armed Forces, commander of the Cochin freighter [i]Amindvi[/i]." He gave a salute in Adnan's direction. "Our ship ran into some technical difficulties, and we were forced to set anchor here. You wouldn't happen to know this name of this island...if it has one. Or at least the coordinates of its position?"

[SK Wynter]

Up the hill climbed the lass, freedom now given a pass. Up she went, hell-bent on escape, swinging and clawing to and fro as the seals barked down below. Her eyes, though blurred, could see the summit and from there she would scout around. Seeking a shelter, a well-known shelter, known only to her and those many seals.

As she reached the crest, she looked back once — the Asian men were approaching the giant. Annan took that chance to put on a burst of speed, running parallel to the cliff in greater heed. Her little skin-lined nest, her place to hide, was somewhere beyond with the higher tides. No one could get there without having to swim; it flooded at high and drained at low. The seals liked to use for privacy, but to the albino it was called home.

She stumbled and ran, fumbled and ran, the steep downward slope leading to the other side. The rocks were slippery, loose and rough; wind's weathering wasn't enough to keep them smooth. Her hands and arm flailed, she gave a grunt, nearly at the bottom when she suddenly froze. Looking ahead Annan did see, in fear, more men mulling about the island's other long shore. She backed up, looking left and right —

A voice rang out over the rocks. Someone had spotted her, and he called out! Annan stared in his direction, and then made no waste in time to flee.

[Sargun II]

Adnan raised two fingers to his right brow and gave a slanted salute back to Captain Jieng. "My name is Adnan," he said lazily, and he looked around. "If I knew the name of this island I wouldn't give a damn enough to tell you," Adnan replied, with a slight chuckle. "I am far too wealthy to care about the name of a vacationer's island. I do know that we are in the sovereign borders of the Empire," he continued, "and that I have a yacht and even I am a half-day's sail to the closest port city with anything close to industrial capabilities." He gave another chuckle, although he was frowning.

"You scared that poor girl off, you know. I think she's been abandoned here," Adnan commented. "If you wish to come aboard, we can go north into the Empire, find whatever equipment you need, and come back as soon as possible. That is, of course, only one possibility." As he said it, he heard someone cry out faintly.

"I do believe I must go."

With that, he started jogging in the direction that Annan had gone.

[Lestari]

Jieng's scowl intensified. He was used to being referred to with respect and obedience, so Adnan's tone and words forced Jieng to remind himself he was not speaking to a subordinate. As for being wealthy, Jieng was not familiar with any wealthy 'Adnans'--then again, he was not well versed in international entrepreneurs from Africa to begin with. Nevertheless, Jieng only cared that this Adnan did not seem to know where they were, what this island was called. Given the [i]Amindvi [/i]was a Cochin vessel, Jieng was not concerned that they were in the waters of the Empire of the Twelve Gods; Cochin was (as far as Jieng knew) permitted into Empire waters as a trade agreement.

On the other side of the island, one of the officers spotted Annan, climbing down the slope leading down to the camps. "Hey, you there!" he called out, pointing towards her. A number of other soldiers looked up to see Annan fleeing back. "Come on," the officer commanded, and they set off after her.

[SK Wynter]

Her feet flew fast, swift across the cliff. What fool would choose staying? The albino ran, ran and ran and ran, down to the shore where the seals lay fat. She swung around a treacherous bend, went across a narrow sliver of land, nearly falling into a tide pool where a stingray did lay quietly. Her breaths were tired, the run uphill had been harsh, but now she had gathered speed downhill.

She answered to no one that was there, no matter how much they called out. The seals did bark, grunting at her; she barely acknowledged where they stayed. The beach's stones were loose under hill, smaller on this side of her home; they hurt more underfoot, and running was uncomfortable. Yet the cave was near, she would have no fear, as she swam and hid in her cavernous abode.

When she came to where she would dive in, she looked around, slightly weary. Warily, hurriedly, always thinking quickly, she took a fair, deep breath. With boldness born of survival harsh, she leapt into the lapping high tide, drifting down before breaking out into a bout of swimming. The small shelf she had stepped off of would mean an unpleasant soaking to those who did not see.

Edited December 26, 2010 by SK Wynter

[SK Wynter]

((OOC: Just a small nudge to get it to the top again, in case anyone else wanted to join in. I know there was discussion among some of wanting to join and make things happen.))
[hr]

The cavern was small and pretty. The walls glistened with wetness's gleam, and the waves lapped gently there. A lullaby's gurgle heard, it was peacefully quiet, with young Annan resting sleepily. The water had had a rough man's pull, and she had had to swim not so gently. Upon the shelf, she lay safely.

As patterns of light decorated the walls and ceiling of the cavern proper, a light shining in from above, Annan waited patiently. Dizzily came her thoughts, shifting was the pea, Annan's fingers brushing the top of the waters gently. Her sanctum smelt of salt and fish, comforting as a child's blanket. Leaving the island was her wish, but she wasn't ready to leave, not yet. Who knew such emotions would writhe within her? Who knew her own kind could frighten her, mystify her? A year and a half had stripped much from the little lady. The bull seals in the breeding season looked less belligerent to her, even if she was comparing lover's clashes to a lone man's charity.

She would wait a while more, then swim out and walk upon her lonely shore. Perhaps she had lost the chance to flee, but even if she did flee, what chance was there to be free? Foul and vile men and women were common among humankind. Annan did not want to find herself in the company of that ilk.