Pelted

“Alora!” he grunted through the shirt I’d used to gag him.

Soryn held the conch shell to his face; Calla bound his hands.

Gray’s eyes widened with something new: fear. He feared us, after all.

I felt no compassion for our captor – none that overwhelmed what I held for the girlchild dancing in my belly. Bring her home.

Soryn’s voice snapped me back. “Go! Before the storm is gone!”

Memories of capture flashed like lightning as I raced to the cache. A chest of wood -- was that all? No lock on its lid, yet inside: everything.

He thought he’d won.

Once I’d learned she was a girl, I’d known she’d be like us.

“Your daughter won’t be born prisoner to a brute,” Soryn whispered, pressing her forehead to mine as I’d wept. The more he stole, the more powerful he felt. We’d agreed; it was time to reclaim what was ours. No more fear.

Calla helped carry the box to the beach. Soryn flew down the stairs, Gray’s screams echoing from above.

Our sleek pelts glistened under the rainfall. We joined the angry sea, home at last in our skin.

Selkies. Free.