Page 106 of Wicked Tides
“They won’t…” I hesitated to finish that sentence. “Not if I am with Vidar.”
“What does that mean?”
“I don’t know. He is the only one who heard me when I called for help that night I almost jumped off the Rose.”
“Is it your dreams?”
“I fear I’ve lodged myself too deeply in his thoughts and he in mine. But as long as he can hear me, perhaps the sons will not be able to tempt me away.”
Her jaw tightened. I could see she was conflicted about the whole ordeal, but it was all the truth. Then, as if surrendering, she nodded and squeezed my hand.
“We are in a strange place at a strange time,” she said. “Promise we will navigate it together.”
“I promise.”
~ 37 ~
Dahlia
Not death do we mourn
But the things that were
and now will never be again
~Unknown
Three women stood at the very edge of a low cliff over calm water. The ocean whispered as it moved and the biting breeze wept with the villagers as the three women sang. Their voices were sorrowful and beautiful, a haunting lullaby on a dreary day as Sakari’s family and friends bid her farewell. Vidar and a few from the crew stood off to the side, watching but not participating. I kept a little distance as well and stood near some large rocks to observe, soaking in the looks on every person’s face as they paid their respects. Ahnah held on tight to her grandmother’s hand, tossing me innocent glances now and then.
I tried to smile at her each time, but it was hard. I didn’t want to smile at a funeral, but I felt the need to reassure her somehow. Of what, I didn’t know. I wasn’t planning on replacing Sakari, so what could I give Ahnah besidessmiles and hugs?
When the women stopped singing, a dozen or so villagers with a long flower garland stepped toward the cliff and slowly tossed the beautiful creation into the cold sea.
Another song began, that time by the men. By then, I was beginning to catch on that they weren’t songs at all but prayers. Each time someone began, the others would bow their heads.
I recalled funeral practices from my childhood, which consisted mostly of feeding a body to sharks or cannibalizing it. The first time I saw my mother sink her teeth into a dead sister, my stomach turned. The second time, I wondered what my own sister would taste like if it ever came to it.
When Vidar killed my mother, the last thing on my mind was eating her. I wanted nothing more than to kill him for shattering my world beneath my feet.
A world I didn’t even love.
The only world I knew.
It was all such a mess and nothing made sense.
A sudden feeling like someone was standing right behind me made me turn my head. Meridan was sitting beside me and immediately looked in the same direction as if she felt it, too. Behind us was nothing but a tundra of dirt and snow. I focused my eyes against the too-bright landscape to see a woman standing near a cluster of stones. She was as white as the snow with white hair and dark, inky eyes. Her long, slender form was covered by a thin dress that looked too large on her frame.
I stood and Meridan stood with me, just as curious as I was to finally talk to one of the coldfins. Quietly, we made our way toward her as the funeral kept on. Just when we were close enough to speak to her, she slipped behind the rocks as if to coax us away from prying eyes. Turning around the stones, we found her standing there, her gaze regarding us both like we were not real. I noticed then that she was nothing like us at all. Her features were so delicate. White, short fur covered her shoulders and the tops of her arms and a dreamy sheen made her flesh look like the top of sun-kissed snow. And her eyeswere like onyx with no color in them at all. Slowly, she started to pace, her eyes studying.
“What is your name?” she asked, her head canting subtly to one side.
“Dahlia.”
“Meridan.”
“You are a Kroan, from Theloch,” she said to me before turning to Meridan. “And I’ve seen your kind before. The Naros.”
“I am from Underhome,” Meridan confirmed.
