Page 4 of The Rake OR The Orca Who Met His Match in a Selkie Desiring Revenge
Heart thumping in her chest, Elspeth watched as the dryad knelt before the foot locker. The click of the key in the lock made her flinch. Elspeth heard that sound in her nightmares. The unlocking signaled that it was time for torture, and the locking solidified her captivity. The familiar creak as it opened sent shivers through her. She wasn’t prepared for the feeling of additional fingers on her pelt, but the dryad’s hands were gentle and glidingwhen she picked it up. She rose, holding it gently between her fingers.
“It’s fascinating. How easily we’re kept, isn’t it? The Navigator has my plant, so I am his. The Seeker has your pelt, and he as good as owns you. For this brief moment, as I hold it, you’re mine. It’s fascinating… and fragile. A bump, a jostle, and I’d drop it, and you could be free.” She raised her eyes to Elspeth, a tear running down her cheek.
For a moment, everything slowed as Elspeth followed that tear. It tracked down to her chin and held, quivering, before falling and landing with the lightest pat onto Elspeth’s pelt. She felt it fall, and in that instant, they were connected. She knew the dryad, she felt her pain, and knew what she wanted. Her eyes shifted rapidly, almost straining at their containment. Her entire body was poised, but on the pelt, Elspeth could feel that spot of wetness and how gingerly she grasped it.
Tears stung behind Elspeth’s eyes. The dryad knew nothing about her, and yet, she cared for Elspeth. She cared what happened to her. Studying her, Elspeth could see lines on her skin that looked like where a plant had been damaged.
Scars.
She was stunning, and yet, there were deep circles under her eyes, and her flowers withered before they fell from her hair. Whatever she’d endured, it was terrible.
Looking into her eyes, Elspeth knew. She’d endure worse if she let Elspeth escape. Yet there she stood, begging her with everything but words to do just that.
Pressing her lips together, Elspeth blinked back her own tears and nodded. In one swift motion, she crossed the distance, bumping the beautiful dryad just enough that the pelt fell from her hands and onto the floor. Elspeth swiped it up, the smooth feeling of the fur calming her frayed nerves.
“Thank you,” she mouthed, not wanting to give either of them away.
The dryad nodded and shifted her eyes to the open window.
Elspeth wanted to hug her, to squeeze her hand in thanks, but something told her that neither of them would welcome physical contact at the moment. Instead, she slipped one hand into her pelt, crossed to the window, pulled it on, and plunged herself intothe ocean.
She had no ideahow long she spent in the ocean after that. Elspeth had tried to do the math, corroborating her stories with others, but it never quite lined up. Perhaps because everyone’s memories are suspect.5
What she did know is that she retreated into herself. She lived only as a seal, never shedding her pelt for even a moment, unable to stand the thought of being without it. She even hated being around other seals. They weren’thers.
Her time on the boat meant she was an unknown distance from Hillskerry with no chance of locating it on her own. She ventured out, and swam. Ate and swam, when she found a bit of shoreline, she slept.
For days, weeks, months, she wandered the ocean unaware of the passing of time. Her days were fluid and hazy, flowing and mixing with dreams to blur together into a jumbled mess. Her life was tinged blue, the depths of the ocean and the glint of the sun through the water framing it.
Except of course, when she slept, or tried to. In those, the moon hung overhead in the sky, eternally full in her recollections.
Regardless, the details of that time are limited and amorphous. Emotionally, Elspeth pushed away any human experience and embraced her seal. For a time, she lived without care or worry.
Until, of course, the orca.
1. During our interviews, Elspeth spent a fair bit of time wondering if her father would have lived had he brought his pelt that day. I can’t help but wonder if this played into her own anxieties about her pelt.
2. While Hillskerry does have a small island library, Elspeth reports that she spent a good deal of her spare income sourcing these books when she found she needed them.
3. The soldier-priests of the Empire claimed that windows might distract pilgrims from focusing on the Path.
4. Elspeth would like to note that this statement reflects her beliefs, at the time, about orcs—not her current beliefs, though it is an objective fact that they stood in the way of assistance, should anyone have tried.
5. Our best estimates are that she spent around two months lost in the ocean.
Chapter two
Aegir
IN WHICH AN ORCA IS IN NEED OF A SNACK
Raucous laughter and clapson the back followed Aegir as he emerged from the makeshift tavern. His pockets hung heavy with Empire gold, but even so, he’d managed to avoid the Sentinels’ ire. He had what he needed, names and locations of their shipping contacts and a good deal of their money besides.
Humming to himself, he sauntered away, twitching his head to the side. The skin he wore didn’t actually itch. It wasn’t actually uncomfortable, but something about wearing their form made him feel like his skin was crawling. Untilhe could shift back and doff his elven disguise, he’d feel trapped.
On his way out of the camp, he ducked between the rows of Pathian tents, scanning until he saw a familiarly hunched figure. Removing his cap, he sat it atop the fellow’s head, giving it a pat.
“Thanks for the face, mate,” he whispered, smacking the man’s head a little harder than necessary. For the briefest moment, he felt guilty about knocking him out earlier, and how they’d eventually trace the leaks back and conclude the man at his feet was to blame. So, Aegir slipped a few coins into the man’s breast pocket. He could have a little fun before he was caught.