“It’s been three days,” Jared told her softly, his hand on her shoulder, pressure fair but firm, as she stared out, out of the cottage window. “He’s not coming back.”
“He is,” she had replied then, twisting and twisting her shawl in her hands. “He will. He has to. He will.”
He didn’t. Not that night, nor the next night, nor the one after that. There was not a sign of Evan, even when seven days had passed, and Alana still sat there, at the cottage window, watching, counting.
“We should look for him,” she said as he set the table. “And we should bring him home, and then we could move to the coast, where he’ll be happy and we’ll be away from people and -”
“He’s gone,” Jared replied, and he was looking away from her, at the bread. “It’s been a week, and he’s not back here. He’ll have returned to the sea by now. Where we found him.”
“But it’s not safe for him there,” Alana replied. “Don’t you remember? How we found him -”
“We found him with a broken arm but alive,” he replied. “Don’t you remember? How we took him to the city, because the fishing was poor at the coast, and how he fell deathly ill? Don’t you remember? How we moved here, because he was dying, and we were away from people, and how he seemed to improve? Do you remember that, Alana?”
She had lowered her head, and said nothing. Even when Jared had apologised, his voice low, and rough, and a little wrong, she did not look at him nor reply.
That night, as he slept, she left the cottage, leaving a note on the table apologising to Jared, food in her basket and shawl wrapped tight around her, and she began to walk, along the shore of the loch, listening to the waves lapping against each other, with no one but herself.
This loch was connected to the next one over. From there, it was a short journey to the sea.
She could find him. She would find him.
The journey to the next loch did not take as long as she thought, but she could not shake the feeling of being watched, even when she looked around to see no one else for miles.
It was a strange, isolating feeling, but one she was used to.
The other loch was large. Much larger than she had thought, stretching out and far beyond the horizon. A stone lodged in her chest as she looked over the water, clear and smooth and deep.
Alana looked down, and there, in the water, was perhaps the most beautiful girl she had ever seen, her hair fanning out behind her in the water, eyes wide and unblinking, her lips soft, and smiling. For a moment, Alana wanted to fall into the water with her, beneath the waves, and kiss her until they both ran out of breath, as if they would die if they resurfaced.
But there was something off about her. Like that horse Evan had said was a kelpie.
“May I help you?” the girl in the loch asked.
“I’m looking for someone,” Alana replied. “I think they passed through here.”
The girl in lake raised an eyebrow. “And is that someone a selkie?”
“I thought as much,” the girl said. “My brother said you might follow him. He warned me about you.”
So. She was one of them, then.
“Is that so?” Alana asked, and they fell into silence.
She knelt down by the loch shore, and gazed out over the distance. The girl just watched her, eyes gleaming as she did, until at last, she spoke, a soft song underpinning her voice.
“You’re lonely, aren’t you?” she asked her, her head cocked to one side, resting on her arms. “To say you’re going this far for one person. You are aware that he isn’t here, aren’t you?”
“But he will be, and I’ll wait for him until he is,” Alana said, as she stared out over the loch. There wasn’t even a cottage on the other shore. “He’ll come back. I know he will.”
“You’ll be waiting a long time,” Zoe told her.
“Well,” Alana said, smiling at Zoe, “isn’t it lucky I have you for company?”