To Tame a Selkie

Chapter 1

Cold Wet Hell

Unst Isle, a northern isle of Scotland,windy, cold...wet. Gaven Cornwall had come to dread moving in such a place, born in a small town in England, then almost immediately moved south of Edinburgh, Scotland in a town called Dunbar, was where he had been raised, growing up with a Scottish tongue, even though English ran in his blood. Gaven was nothing exceptional, he never turned the opposite sex's head, never stood out, which was just how he liked it. As a hard working man he had come to terms quickly with not having much of a social life, never mind a love life.

Contentment. It was the very word that defined Gaven Cornwall. That is until he moved north into a cold wet and windy hell, and he had seen her. Gaven was your typical red blooded man, he loved women, and of course he had gotten lonely more times than he could count, but it never troubled him, not to the point of discontent. He had dated a few women throughout his life, none had ever really stolen his heart, became more than a fleeting thought. Easy going Gaven would let them go without even a backwards glance, maybe just a subdued smile and a quick nod of his head, they became his history.

Life moved on. Gaven had felt the early beginnings of discontent, something he never would let fully thrive. The town he had grew up in had finally gotten old. So he did the only thing he knew to do. He sought out another location, this one had been planted like a seed, deep in his head by faint murmurings in dark shadowed corners in his most favored stomping grounds. A seedy pub, the scent of sweat and smoke and alcohol but the most wonderful ale, the most personable bartender.
Gaven went often, and one of his favorite things to do was to put in an apathetic facade while he downed his poison, his ears wide open, picking up the gossip of others everyday lives. Mostly the talk was stale and monotonous, but every now and then he would catch wind of something that caught his attention.

It was on a overly warm night, the moon not even close to being full, the tavern was a bit more empty than usual, to be fair it was on a Thursday. But none the less the talk that had reached his ears that night had raised goosebumps on his arms and gave him pause. His ears burning hotter than ever. It was one word. One name. Angel. Alia.

Gaven was nothing if not logical and he wasn't the least bit superstitious. Maybe it was the way the words shook on the tongues of the hidden strangers that haunted the pub that night, or maybe for once..he decided to be spontaneous. Whatever it was, it led to the cold wet and windy isle he called hell.