Page 13 of The Rake OR The Orca Who Met His Match in a Selkie Desiring Revenge

And so it was with great frustration that she had to repeatedly banish thoughts of him from her mind. Like a silly school girl, she imagined what their life could have been like had she given him her blood bond freely. What would it have been like to be cared for forever, by someone that attentive?

It had been nice, for a little while, to be cared for. She spent so much time seeing to others that she found herself daydreaming about him preparing food for her, searching out clothes. Of giving her his room, or bandaging her wound.

He’d done a good job; the bandage had somehow lasted through her shift and whatever salve he had applied had helped her wound heal quickly.

On the third day, she sat on a rock just offshore, absentmindedly singing a ditty her mother had always sung.

A sound from behind her startled her and she turned to see a great gust of water spray into the air, and she searched the horizon for a pod of whales. With her heart in her chest, she dove off the rock and into the shallows, shifting andremoving her pelt as soon as she touched sand. Scrambling up the beach, she ran for the tree line. She had no interest in being bitten again. Perhaps she should stay on land for a while.

Once ashore, she unwrapped her bundle of clothing, donning the sodden shirt and stockings.

They clung to her, but they’d dry as she wore them, especially with how warm it was down here. As she had no idea where she was, she decided to continue north. The map had implied that there were a great many settlements along the shore, and she was sure to come upon one eventually.

The thick forest was like nothing she’d ever seen on Hillskerry. There they had a few copses of trees, and she’d seen great pine forests in the distance when she had gone to the mainland with her father to trade. These trees, though, were a mix of pine and broadleaf that she didn’t recognize. Instead of the tall skinny white birch they had on the island, these trees had wide, dark brown bark and huge gnarled limbs. They stretched overhead, each tree’s limbs intermingling, and vying for spots of sun until the whole forest floor was canopied in shade. The ground was covered in a thick layer of decaying leaves, so soft and springy that it muffledher steps.

The longer she was in the forest, the stranger she felt. At first, she thought she heard the sound of someone behind her, but it had been so brief that eventually she was able to convince herself she’d imagined it. Later, she began noticing branches broken off in front of her, and could swear that she saw footprints. Every so often, the carpet of the forest would be scuffed up, showing the thick loam of decaying leaves beneath the top layer. Finally, as the sun began to set, she got the distinct scent of a fire blowing back to her on the breeze. Her heart sped at the scent, it had been so long since she’d felt safe, and though she knew that normally the scent of a fire was welcome, at that moment, it only signaled exposure.

Immediately regretting going ashore at all, she backtracked through the forest, fleeing toward the shore again. Once she was far enough away, she broke into a run, shucking her clothing off as she went.

Though she’d been worried about what was in the ocean before, she feared whatever was on the land more. Pathian soldiers lived on land, and she wasn’t keen on meeting any of them. There were few in the oceanthat would show an interest in her. And that was the real danger.

She swam out to sea as fast as her flippers would carry her, frequently turning her head to look behind her. She was so frantic that she was confused when she came to an abrupt stop. She’d collided into something large and hard, but coated in softness. When she turned to look at her obstacle, she recoiled in surprise as her mouth fell open.

Aegir the Fishkin floated in front of her. He wore an amused smirk on his face that made her want to smack it off.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded, highly aware of the fact that partially shifted like this, she wore no shirt. She clutched her arms over her chest, and did her best to give him a stern glare.2

“Swimming," Aegir said with a shrug.

“Swimming?"

“Yeah, it’s this thing that people do. I would tell you that you should try it sometime, but it seems you’ve gotten the hang of it. Fancy meeting you here though!”

“Yes, how serendipitous.” Looking around, Elspeth couldn’t see his boat anywhere. Obviously, he wouldn’t always have it nearby, but she had covered quite the distance since leaving.

“Are you well?” He asked, eyes roaming her body.

“Quite well. If you’ll excuse me,” she moved to swim past him, but he stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. That spot where his hand had touched her seemed as if it were on fire, she was surprised to see that he hadn’t left a brand on her.

“What are you doing? Are you following me?”

Aegir recoiled from her, his face screwing up. “I am simply going in this same direction. I can’t help it if you’re also going this way.”

“Then why did you stop me?”

“I—well, you see, after you left so abruptly, I thought I should make sure you were alright, since I ran into you and all.” He cocked his head to the side. “Or you ran into me, I suppose. For that matter, areyoufollowingme?”

“Don’t be absurd! I’m, well... where I’m going is my own business, so now that you know I am well, I will be on my way.”

“Very well, best of luck to you then,” Aegir said. He turned from her and began swimming north.

Frowning, Elspeth swam as well, parallel so as not to appear that she was following.

For a time, they paddled alongside one another, speeding and slowing to match the other’s pace. Elspeth's heart raced though she was barely exerting herself. Every sooften, she would steal glances at him, admiring the way his shoulders looked with his arms trailing behind him as he pushed himself through the water. A few times, she swore she caught him looking back at her, but couldn’t be certain.

It was a shame, really. If she’d met him in other circumstances, he might have been the kind of man she’d pick. He had a pleasing face with expressive eyebrows, and a strong jawline. He obviously loved the ocean, and apparently spoke the same dialect of undersea language.3

Between the stocking he’d had in his room, and the way he posed, he did seem a bit of a rake, and she wouldn’t have liked that, or rather wouldn’t have abided him stepping out on her. He reminded her of a few people back home, the kind with a ready smile and open arms, leaving a trail of broken hearts in their wake.