Serendipity's Interlude (Sequel to The Call)

Lost Time

"She used her song to heal the man, but the humans had already seen how dangerous he was and would not believe her," Ocean Mother sighs and shakes her head. "So they ran. She took her love and fled to the south seas, running from all those who wanted him dead."

I poke my head above the water just enough to scan the shore for humans. It's still dark outside, so there's no one here. I start to emerge and take my first breath of air. And immediately start coughing up water. I brace my weight through my shoulders and arms as I try to calm my lungs without waking up the entire city.

As soon as I take a breath without hacking, I continue on, dragging my several feet of tail out of the water. Carefully settling into the sand, I suck in a breath and try to remember Ocean Mother's instructions. Think about splitting my tail. You remember having legs, Madeline, you know how legs feel. It's an odd sensation, but I think I find the motion as my tail starts to wobble and warp. My scales start to recede, and then a pain stronger than anything I've ever felt in all my years sets in.

I gasp and flop backward on the sand, writhing in pain as my tail starts to split. In an effort to keep from crying out, I bite my lip so hard that a coppery taste begins to flood my mouth. My eyes water and I dig my hands into the sand. Slowly, the pain starts to calm. Still there, and still excruciating, but I'm no longer seeing spots. I slowly sit up and let it sink in that I'm on the surface, and I'm breathing air.

I'm on the surface and I'm breathing air.

I'm on the surface and I'm breathing air.

It's like a million memories, a million customs, come rushing back. First and foremost, how sensitive humans are about 'nudity.' So I silently call to the waters and weave myself a salt dress like Mother and my sisters have all learned during all these years spent only with each other. Once my dress is assembled and sturdy, I decide I need to begin the process of standing up.

It has been so long since I did this. As soon as I'm on my feet, I'm back on the sand. I grit my teeth and hesitantly stand again, this time trying to lock my... what are these called... oh, knees. This time trying to lock my knees. Now I am on my feet, and I'm not falling! Halfway there, Madeline. I shift my weight into one leg and try to lift the other off the ground. The shift in balance sends my arms flying out to my sides, waving around to try and resist gravity.

My foot lands on the sand again. I relax and sigh in relief. Examining my feet, I realize that it's barely moved forward. This is already exhausting. I glance back at the ocean- so close, the waves still slapping the shore. I could go back. I could get my tail back, crawl back under the water, and never come back. I could.

But Cora. I can't go back, because that would mean her death. I can't let her die. Not when I could have done something. I close my eyes and inhale deeply, picking up my other leg and stepping forward. One foot at a time. Leg forward, foot off the ground, set heel down, set toes down, next leg.

I keep going, one foot at a time, until I've run out of sand to step in and am now faced with a dark, flat surface that stretches farther than I can see. In the center, there is a yellow line. I don't know what on earth this is, so I ignore it and keep walking. By the time I've crossed it, I feel like I've got the hang of this. It's less effort for each step, and I'm starting to set a pace.

I try to recall the directions Mother gave me, walking along more of these paths with the yellow lines. She told me where it was; a building with a bright red front door and a window covered in- what did she call it? It's supposed to be grey, and sticky... Duck tape!- a window covered in duck tape. Who would make tape out of a duck, that is a mystery to me, but that's not something to concern myself with. As the sun starts to rise, I pick up the pace. The humans will be rising as well very soon. I scan down the path in front of me, tracking the buildings on one side, and then on another, when my gaze falls on a faded door that could have once been red.