Seal Skin

Uisce's heart hammered in his chest as he ventured deeper into the village, his eyes darting frantically from shadow to shadow. The cobblestone streets, slick with morning dew, felt alien beneath his bare feet. The air hung heavy with the scent of peat smoke and something else—something old and musty that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

As he crept past silent cottages, Uisce strained his ears for any sound that might betray the thief’s location. But the village was eerily quiet, save for the occasional creak of wood settling or the distant cry of a night bird. He felt exposed, vulnerable in a way he had never experienced in the safety of the sea. Spotting a cartoonish depiction of a woman holding a glass painted on the side of a building reminded him of the largest difference between the sea and land. Humans here needed to wear clothes, and if he had any chance of hunting the man who took his coat then he needed to blend in.

A flicker of movement caught his eye, and Uisce whirled to see a curtain fall back into place in a nearby window. He froze, suddenly extremely aware of the fact that he was in a human town, extremely exposed, and soon they would begin to wake as the sun starts its climb over the horizon and his hunt would be over.

He scans the houses and spots a nearby clothesline, the damp pants forgotten the evening prior. Uisce reaches a shaky hand up towards them, before a boney icy hand shoots out from the shadows. A matching hand clamps down harshly over his mouth before he can even utter a word.

“Shhhh, hush buachaill milis, you are gonna get yourself caught going on like this.” A raspy voice hissed into his ear.

Uisce’s blood ran cold, his muscles tensing as the frigid grip tightened around him. The voice, though harsh, carried an undercurrent of amusement that sent shivers down his spine. He tried to twist away, but the hands held him fast, unyielding as iron, the woman’s sharp nails digging sharply into his wrist.

“Now, now,” the voice continued, its lilting cadence at odds with its gravelly timbre, “I’ve been watching you, little sea-child. Stumbling about like a newborn fawn, you are. Lucky it was me who found you and not some less... understanding soul.”

The hands slowly released their hold, and Uisce spun around, heart thundering in his chest. Before him stood a wizened crone, her skin as pale and speckled as moonlight on water, her oddly familiar eyes glinting with an otherworldly knowledge. She was draped in tattered robes that seemed to drape much too loosely around her thin frame.

The old woman’s lips curled into a knowing smile, revealing teeth as sharp and jagged as broken shells. She swiped a hand across her forehead, sweeping her short silvery curls from her eyes and fixing a strong stare on Uisce. Uisce found himself unable to look away, transfixed by her gaze that seemed to pierce through him, laying bare all his secrets and fears.

“You’re far from home, aren’t you, mo stór?” she crooned, her bony fingers reaching out to brush a strand of damp hair from his forehead. The touch sent a jolt through him, like the shock of plunging into icy waters.

Uisce swallowed hard, his throat constricted with fear and an odd sense of recognition. “I... I’m looking for something- someone actually.” He managed to whisper, his voice hoarse and unfamiliar to his own ears.

The crone cackled softly, the sound like pebbles rolling in the surf. “Aren’t we all, child? But what are you doing searching alone? Surely you have some family nearby to aide your searches.”

“I don’t... they are currently preoccupied. They would’ve joined me if they could. But this is a journey I must handle myself. It’s personal.” Uisce chooses his words very carefully, knowing better than to trust other species with their secrets.

“You need not be so guarded pup, I knew of your nature when you stumbled frantically into town stark naked as a new born babe. You are not the first victim of seal-skin theft, and you nay be the last of us. I know a guilty man when I see it, and I saw a man run in from shore-side with a rather large wound on his arm not long before you hobbled in. Fret not, I will help you retrieve what was taken, no fee required this time.” The old woman rumbled out, her face wrinkling further as she gave a toothy grin and a wink.

Uisce hesitated, torn between his desperate need for help and the instinctive wariness ingrained in him since birth. The old woman’s offer seemed too good to be true, yet there was something in her eyes—a glimmer of ancient wisdom, perhaps—that compelled him to trust her.

“Why would you help me?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “You don’t even know me.”

The crone’s smile softened, a hint of sadness creeping into her expression. “Oh, but I do know you, child of the sea. I know your kind better than you might think. Long ago, I too danced beneath the waves, before time and treachery stripped me of my true skin. I would not wish this fate upon any creature. Being stripped of your truth and identity is the cruelest form of torture.”

Her words struck Uisce like a physical blow, and he stumbled back a step, eyes wide with shock and a newfound understanding. “You’re... you’re also...?”

The crone nodded slowly, her gaze distant as if looking back through the mists of time. “I was, mo chroí. Long, long ago. But the sea is a fickle mistress, and the land can be crueler still. I lost my skin to a fisherman’s greed, and with it, my way home. Never could find where he hid it, even after the old bastard was done in by a storm out at sea.”

Uisce’s eyes widened, a mix of shock and understanding washing over him like a sudden tide. The old woman’s words resonated deep within him, explaining the strange familiarity he had felt since their encounter began. He studied her face more closely now, seeing beyond the wrinkles and age spots to the faint traces of what must have once been ethereal beauty, and finding hints of familiar faces in hers. The crook of her lips like his grandmother’s, his great grandfather’s shade of brown in her eyes. With his fear absting, he truly sees how she appears both ancient and youthful, both wise and naive, both human and not.

A profound sadness welled up in Uisce’s chest, mingling with his own fear. The sudden reminder that this may be his future petrified him. Stuck between the land and sea till his death simply because of a man’s greed. It contrasted the sense of profound grief for this woman, cursed by another creature’s selfishness. Softly, she smiled at Uisce again, the warmth on her face betraying the pain in her eyes.

“Tell me, boy,” the crone continued while grasping his hand in hers gently,” what is your name?”

“Uisce, ma’am, and what should I call you?”

“You may call me Gan Teideal. Or simply Teideal if you wish. Now, Uisce tell me what the man looked like, I know every face in this town.”

”The finer details escape me but… I remember he was large. Large like the mouth of a cave. As tall as he is wide. A shaggy beard, and dark mean eyes. Dark big boots. Loud loud voice. Booming like thunder. He smells like fire and blood.” Uisce’s voice grows shaky as he recounts what he can remember.

Teideal simply nods her head, giving an exasperated sigh.

“Páiste, that describes many men here. Is there anything special you can remember that really stood out?”

Uisce attempts to recall any further information. The only images come to his mind are images of his mother. Her teeth. Her blood. Her growls and screams. Her gurgled breathing aafter it was all over.

Suddenly, it hits him.

”He wheezed, the entire time he heaved and wheezed like a fish out of water, like his own sheer size was crushing him. I’ve never heard anything like it. I at first mistook his wheezes as the ocean waves or some animal in labor. It was a wet, choked wheeze.”

Teidals eyes slight up in recognition, before her face falls and darkens. Slowly she regains her composure and a gentle smile pulls at the edge of her mouth.

”I see… good work child. Come rest now, we will deal with this in the morning,” Teidal said softly, beckoning towards a soft looking cot.

The ache in his feet suddenly is all too much, and the warmth of the cot was all too enticing. With a small muttered thank you, he shuffled over to the cot, plopped into the warm furs covering the surface, and falling into a deep slumber.