Sisters Three (Completed)

24. Morna (2/3)

After a minute their feet hit sand, and Morna carefully peeled open her eyelids.

A vast beach of sand and pebbles stretched out for as far as the eye could see. The gray waves were at least a hundred yards from them, with birds and seaweed scattered in between. Morna bit her lip, staring at the sheer amount of water that now faced her. The call hooked her strongly in the gut and she tightened her grip on Afton lest she should make a run for the waves.

They stood for a few seconds facing the water, and then Afton steered them to walk along the cliff side down the beach. With the steady wall on one side, Morna fought the pull by staring at the rock face and imagining herself on the mountains where there was no water for miles. But still the bay tugged on her, whispering, calling. A small whimper escaped her lips before she realized she'd made it.

Afton paused, his hands raising to cradle her face. He looked her directly in the eyes, blocking the view of the water. "Morna, I brought you down here because I don't want you to be afraid of your home," he said. "It could very well end up that you stay here with Brenna for the rest of your life, and I don't want you to always have to be worried that you might one day run down here and jump into the waves. I want to show you something."

Morna, tears building, looked down. "What?"

"I want to show you that as long as I am around, you don't have to worry about any kind of water. I'll protect you no matter where you are, and even if we're hundreds of miles apart. I'm always going to be with you, and I won't let you be taken by this curse. As long as I'm alive, I'll be your safety."

He moved one hand from her face and laid it over her heart. The warmth of his skin seeped into her, and she tried to imagine his promise of safety going with it. She closed her eyes, imagining a wisp of white winding from his hand and into her heart, curling around it and muffling the calling of the water. She blinked open, tears coursing down her cheeks but the hook in her gut weakening.

Afton drew a wavering breath, his hand shaking just slightly over her heart. A brief look of something akin to desperateness flickered through his eyes, but then he shook his head and the moment returned to normal.

"We should finish our walk," he said, playfully capturing her arm.

They strolled down the beach, Morna on Afton's left so that he was between her and the waves.

Around a mile from the house they came upon an abandoned fisher's hut. Once it would have been used to shelter any men fishing far from home when night fell, but it was no more than a forgotten relic ever since the first Glenfarrows came into the land.

Afton pushed open the rotting door and they explored what had been left by the last occupant all those decades ago.

Ropes and nets and other items of the trade were strung from the roof's support beam, all thick with green mold. The broken remains of what used to be a bed lay in a heap where it had collapsed. The carcasses of long-dead birds and vermin scattered the ground in a morbid carpet of feathers and fur and bones.

As Morna scanned the rubble she felt a deep sadness. The men who'd slept here, leagues from their home, must have shared even a part of her call to water. To have left all they loved behind in order to sail to new waters couldn't be explained by better profits. She'd heard many stories of sailors becoming obsessed with the ocean. While theirs stemmed from a lust for freedom, and hers from an unexplained mystery, a sort of comradery sprang up between them. Looking at the dead hut clenched her heart and she wondered what would become of her things should she ever give into the call.

Afton, perhaps sensing her melancholy, quickly turned and walked out to a small stretched of beach nearly entirely surrounded by flat boulders. Morna watched from a few feet away as he unceremoniously plopped down to sit on the sand and ruin his pants with the damp. He then began to shovel handfuls of sand, dumping them into a pile and creating a ditch.

"What in the world are you doing?" Morna asked, barely suppressing her laughter at the childish way Afton shuffled on his knees while he patted at his pile of sand.

"I've suddenly felt the need to build the palace in Latterstill!" he proclaimed, slapping a scoop of wet sand to a side of the pile. "Come on, you can help."

Morna shook her head good naturedly. "I wouldn't be any help. You forget that I've never even seen Anjeluund's palace. Besides, I don't want to ruin my dress. Brenna would kill me."

"You don't need to know what the palace looks like. It's like any other one out there. Large and imposing," Afton said, scratching his cheek absently and leaving a trail of sand on his skin.

When Morna didn't make a move, he grinned at her. "Oh, come on! I need a woman's touch."

He held out his hand for Morna's, but she skittered out of the way.

"No, my dress," she protested.

Before she could stop him, Afton scooped up a handful of sand and tossed it at her hem. She barely made it out of the way, squealing. "Afton!"

He laughed and held up his hands in surrender. "All right, all right, I'll spare your darling dress."

Morna struggled to hide her smile. "You're acting like a child," she mockingly admonished.

Afton pressed a palm to his heart. "Apologies, my lady! Let me make up for it by being a gentleman and offering you my doublet for you to sit upon and spare that gown of yours." As he spoke, Afton deftly untied the ribbons lacing his doublet together, and slid out of it. Underneath was a simple cotton shirt, loose, but showing enough of his form that Morna had to clear her throat and shift her gaze before she started blushing.

Afton placed the doublet on the sand beside him with a flourish, and Morna let him help her down so that her legs were to one side and she faced the formless palace.