Dark Water

Chapter 13

"My last name?" Mihris had a puzzled look on her face. Oisin had practically chased her down just to ask her that of all things.

"My mother didn't have a last name and I never learned what my father's was."

"So, your name is just blue?"

"Blues my nickname."

"What's your actual name then?" Mihris let out a huff, adjusting the roll of fabric in her arms.

"You ask too many questions." She walked off, heading for the docks. The weather had cleared up enough for her to finally fix the sails on her boat. She slowly realized Oisin was following her, letting out a frustrated sigh. He could see the tension in her, and she dropped the fabric down on the dock before climbing into the boat.

Oisin sat down and watched her.

"How about I guess?"

"Trust me, you can't guess my name."

"Alright. Does it have any vowels?"

"Yes." She slowly began to play along with his guessing, somewhat amused. Mihris worked her way up the mast, cutting the ties that held the old, tattered sail until it draped down. She hadn't cut the bottom ties yet to not drop it on the deck. It already needed a fresh coat of paint and a good sanding.

"Alright, how many letters?"

"Six."

"Is it Aifric?" Mihris stifled a chuckle.

"No. Too many vowels."

Oisin pondered over what it could be.

"So, it only has one vowel, it's six letters long. Any hints I can have?"

"Those were the hints."

"Ardara?"

"No As. Wrong vowel sweetheart."

He took out a piece of parchment, writing down what had been given to him.

"Six letters, one vowel. So, the vowel is I."

"Correct." Mihris sat down after taking the roll of fabric, cutting a large patch out of it to mend the sail. She pulled out a thread along with a fishbone needle, getting on her knees as she began to stitch the pieces together.

"What's the third letter?"

"If I give you my entire name then you're not guessing it."

"True." He let out a huff. He pulled the record log out of his messenger bag.

"Where on earth did you get that from?"

"I borrowed it." He flipped through the pages, looking through the logs of around when Mihris would have been born. A name finally caught his eye.

"Mihris, born seventeen fifty-nine, exact day unknown. Four years old as of seventeen sixty-three. Residence, the orphanage." Mihris tensed up as he spoke.

"Didn't you say your mother died when you were a teenager and then your father after she jumped off the cliffs?" Oisin was unable to move out of the way in time and soon was looking straight up at the sky, a thumping in his temple. Mihris had grabbed one of her tools in a fit of anger and thrown it straight at him, expecting him to move.

"Nice aim." He felt his forehead, surprised he wasn't bleeding. He could see she was extremely ticked off with his pestering.

"Will you stop prying into every single little detail about me? I told you a story! That's it!" She stood in silence, his face slowly moving from surprise to concern.