SEA, SWALLOW ME, remus lupin

ceithir, as the sun rises

CHAPTER FOUR
as the sun rises

                           𖦹 ⋆｡˚⋆ฺ ⋆｡˚⋆ฺ˚⋆˚ 𖦹

  THE SKY IS PAINTED IN POMPEIIAN splendour, a volcanic eruption of scarlet and terracotta scorching the raggedy mountainscape that surrounds them. Sea thrift peeks out from the cracks in the rocks, the scruffy pink petals withering under the iron fist of the brutally cold weather. Guillemots cry from their perches on the cliff face, casting sharp eagle eyes around the beach and ruffling their ebony feathers at any disruption. The air is pungent with the stench of salt from the lapping waves as they crash to shore. A chill sparks in the air, frost creeping across the land and compacting the sand tightly. The water is glacial, though Cove can hardly feel it through the thick blubber her human flesh is akin to.

  The worst of the storm has passed them by and everything feels stagnant, the cerulean sea calmly stroking against the shore in a lulling voice that hums against Cove's ears. A sense of comfort washes over her when she notices that the Blue Men are nowhere to be seen, though her gut churns with overwhelming anxiety when she realises the selkie absence as well. Her only reassurance is the thought of her colony's safe house in one of the many hidden caves in St Kilda, her mind thrumming with the idea that they're safe and sound, far away from the shores of Lewis.

  "Are you not frozen? The water must be terribly cold."

Regulus is eyeing the sheep up on the cliffs with caution as Cove wades further into the sea foam, up to her shins in saltwater as she cradles a crab she found in the nearby rock pools. She find it funny just how sceptical he is of the unfamiliar countryside surrounding him, wary of the flocking gulls above his head and the breeze as it brushes on by. His eyes are foggy with distraction as he calls out to her from across the beach, thoughtlessly making conversation.

  Cove hums distantly. "I've got thick skin."

  He laughs. It wasn't a joke.

"You know, I never learned how to swim," he remarks wistfully, watching as the water crawls further towards his freshly scourgified Oxfords. He pulls his knees up to his chest.

Cove turns her head to face him, an eyebrow crooked in question. "Really?"

He shrugs. "I grew up in central London. It's not exactly coastal."

   "I can't imagine a life without swimming," she thinks aloud. The crab scuttles over her palm and she moves her free hand beneath to catch it as it falls, shifting the little crustacean between her hands as if it were no more than water cupped in her grasp. Slipping through her fingers, seeking out the tender affection in her touch. "I've been swimming ever since I could walk."

   He scrutinises her with interest. "Well, maybe you could teach me?" Regulus hazards slowly, wary of her reaction. When he hears it spoken aloud, he suddenly fears that it's a childish question and his cheeks begin to heat up from the mortification.

   On the other hand, Cove freezes. Her shoulders tense up, her breath sticking to her ribs until she's asphyxiating under the weight of her nerves.

  Regulus doesn't know the truth about her. He's blind to the rows of vaguely pointy teeth behind her lips, unaware that her senses are animalistic and heightened. He doesn't know about the pull to the sea she feels inside, nor the sealskin stuffed in a shoebox at the bottom of her wardrobe. With the newfound information concerning his... unfortunate stance in the rapidly worsening conflict, she isn't sure if their friendship could withstand the truth — and, considering that her life hangs in the balance here, Cove wants to sustain his ignorance for as long as she possibly can.