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It had been violent.

And scarring.

She squeezed her eyes shut to block out the image of the Sirenidae’s sore-covered face with sightless eyes.

The ocean was brutal, it’s true, but their people were careful in their endeavors. Most of the Sirenidae lived hundreds of years. Between their healers, herbs, hearty constitution, and respect for life, it was unusual to lose someone from disease or to an accident.

And the healer had been young.

Tears sprang into Mer’s eyes, grief welling for the life lost.

The wind picked up, and Mer wrapped her arms around herself, rubbing her palms up and down against the chill. She stared out at the dark water. While she wasn’t a healer, Mer had learned a lot during her marriage to Ream. A pang of loss ran through her at the reminder.

Focus, Mer.

Every disease had a cause.

And a cure.

The five Sirenidae healers that had been stationed here had already used many of their concoctions on the ill. None had worked. It gave those sick a little bit of reprieve but did nothing to extend their lives.

This new disease had originated in this village.

Mer wanted to know why.

It was a very clean town with little to no imports.

The village of Vierla was isolated and self-sufficient.

Just what had caused the sickness?

She sighed, watching the water.She began to hum a new tune that had been stuck in her head, not able to remember where she’d heard it before.

It was very possible that there was a cure in the ocean.

They just needed to figure out how to get to it.

Since her arrival in Vierla, she’d been trying to build up her tolerance to the cold water. Every morning and night, she’d plunge into the sea and explore until her limbs began to give out. It was harrowing and miserable, but necessary.

Icy tingles ran up her heels and Mer forced herself to walk away from the ocean. As much as she wanted to dive into the water and begin searching for herbs, Mer wouldn’t be able to see anything at night, nor last longer than five minutes in the cold water without the sun to warm it.

She walked from the beach, sand rubbing in between her toes as she made her way to the home she’d been given to stay in.

Movement caught her eye to the right.

Herfiileewas perched on a nearby outcropping of rocks watching Mer.

“Go home,” she called to the beast. “I’m going to bed. I’ve no use for you.”

As if the feline understood her, thefiileestood and dropped down to the sand, prowling to Mer. She rubbed her snout against Mer’s side and huffed out a rumbling purr.

Mer ran her fingers through the silky fur between the creature’s ears and then turned to hug thefiileearound the neck briefly. “I’ll miss you too,” she whispered. Mer stepped away and the feline loped off into the dark.

Since she arrived, Mer hadn’t met many people, but none had been a true friend. Herfiileewas probably the only creature she could trust. It was a sad realization.

Mer stomped her feet outside the wooden door, wiped them on a faded woven rug, and stepped inside, trying not to drown in her morose thoughts. It was harder and harder not to sink into a depression she wasn’t sure she could claw her way back from. Working with the healers was a blessing of sorts. It kept her so busy she didn’t have time to think about her problems.

She hung her mask on the peg by the door and smiled at the roaring fire. The people were really too kind to her.