Inherently Innocent

And Sometime In The Future

The moon controls the tides.

She was always up there, staring down at Juniper. The first month. The first winter. The second. By the third, she raised her arms and reached for the moon. The waves were freezing. The air was salty. And she let go.

June tried not to think of anything as the water entered her ears. But that was impossible. With the waves, so came the memories.

The first time she had seen the sea, around three years before that day, she had run straight at the waves, discovering how heavy sand could be under one's feet, around one's body, and lungs. At that moment, she had run with innocent joy, kicking the water on her way, forgetting just how miserable she had become.

When she started drowning, some rare ishine with big eyes, small nostrils, and fins had helped her to the shore. Aloe had dragged her further away and helped her cough. And she had lived.

But that was before. She didn't forget as easily then. The loneliness of the beach echoed back in the silence. Maybe that was why she kept doing it, she thought, to remember what she had lived, what she had lost.

So she tried again a few months later. She ran away from the ground until her feet were of no use. She kept digging with her hands, but there was no way to make the ocean obey her will. She was dragged back into the sand. But again she ran after a few moons.

Cove's words echoed in her head each time. You were going to remove the Marull surname from your name and pretend this bloodshed isn't your fault too. You will realize you need me like the sea needs the moon.

The lonely months away from the settlement passed, but one thing remained a constant. The ocean was calling her.

Aloe insisted it made no sense. It must have been reasonable awe at the expanse of the sea from a human who had grown apart from it, but her dangerous and persistent fascination concerned them.

One morning, the couple had awoken before the sun rose. Aloe pulled Juniper's hand away from their belly and stood up first, leaving the human to enjoy a few more minutes of rest. They walked out of the room, immediately missing the warm air of a shared bed. Their little cabin was unbearably cold in the winter months, and the edges of the windows reminded them that it was a work in progress even after so much work.

Aloe started the fire and boiled some water. They prepared a kettle and sliced bread. It was a new day to face, and they would face it doing their best.

They returned to the bed and gently ran a hand through June's hair. They kissed her forehead. After giving her time to yawn and stand, staring with dumbstruck eyes at her messy hair glistening in the early morning light, they walked back outside, placed a warm cup of tea on June's place and waited for her to sit.

She dragged her feet into the room, cleaned her eyes, and yawned some more.

"Morning, love," Juniper grinned.

"Good morning, love."
"Eh, I'd say it's just morning," Juniper held her own arms and faked a shiver. She moved to her seat in front of the window. Probably not the warmest spot for the air currents, but when the sun hit her back, it would make up for it.

"We'll fix the wind leaks eventually."
"Yeah, we still need to fix the water leaks through," She sighed, "Eventually should feel each day closer but I have a feeling it's running away from us. Our little piece of oblivion needs a lot of work. And to think a third of the settlement used to live in houses not much better than this."
Aloe stared at the steam rising from the cup of tea, ghastly surrounding Juniper's face. Her cheeks were sunken, and she was forming eye bags. Her hair was still lovely, and Aloe wouldn't feel guilty for seeing the beauty in her tiredness.