The Sea Thief

Chapter III

"That won't be necessary," Tora said hastily. "I can handle it."

Tora winced at the desperation in her voice, at the panic in it.

If her mother heard it as well, she didn't show it. Instead, she said, "I get worried, though. What if one of the hunters find you one day? What if you're caught in a net?"

"They won't, Mama." Tora reached out and clasped her hand. "And, if they do, I have a spear made by the best blacksmith to ever swim the seas."

Mama smiled again, and this time, Tora could feel the warmth in it, could feel the honesty in it.

It made her sick.

She would never actually use that spear. She would never find herself face to face with a pirate. She would never be the Selkie her parents thought she was.

Tora forced herself onto her feet and moved towards her spear.

"Well, dinner isn't going to catch itself," she said. "Any requests?"

"I would love a yellow fin," her mama replied.

Tora smiled. From memory, there were six different stalls that sold yellow fins – four that she had stolen from already, and two that she had only ever glanced at.

And all six of them were manned by children who could barely pronounce their own names.

It would be easy. Too easy. It would even give her enough time to move away from the markets and closer to the shores, where she might just find a Lavellan to hunt – a Lavellan that she could bring home and throw at Emil Blacach's disgusting little face.

Tora's hand hovered over her spear.

If she was going to hunt a Lavellan, she should take the spear.

But, as her fingers wrapped themselves around the wooden shaft, she imagined the Lavellan's mottled skin and the dark blood spewing from its mouth. She imagined the sound of its scream – desperate, terrified, human.

Tora dropped the spear and turned back to her mama.

She wouldn't need a spear. She would catch it with her bare hands.

"I'll try my best," she finally said.

And, with a pang of dismay, Tora realised that was the only thing she had said that wasn't a lie.

~.~

Reid stared at the blanket of snow beneath his feet.

The thief – the Selkie – had turned herself into a seal right here, inches away from his boots. A full night had passed since then, and Reid could still clearly picture her tousled hair, her sly grin, her light eyes.

And, of course, he remembered the fish she had clutched ever so tightly in her hand.

Reid winced as the wind slapped at his face.

He had fish to sell. He had money to make. His father was counting on him.

No matter what Reid told himself, though, he couldn't bring himself to turn away from the ocean. The waves rolled in, frigid and laced with foam and frost. Already, after only minutes of watching the tides move in and out, his pants and boots were soaked through from the spray of salty water.

Finally, Reid tightened the hood around his raw face and turned away.

If that thief came back today, he would catch her. At least, now, he knew what she was, where she went, what she wore-

Reid froze.

Her clothes.

When she had come here yesterday, she had thrown off her clothes. When the light had streamed into his eyes, she must have thrown them somewhere – somewhere close, somewhere around here.

With the taste of salt on his lips and the smell of fish in his nose, Reid circled around the chalky, white ribbon of cliffs. His hands moved over each fold of gnarled stone, over each lump of barnacle. His gloves were drenched from the snow, and his fingers went numb as they searched and searched-

There.

Despite the stiffness of his fingers, Reid couldn't help but smile as he pulled a swell of rags out of a nook between the rocks.

He almost couldn't believe his eyes.

This Selkie had more clothes than he did. There were woollen shirts, long skirts, blouses frayed at the cuffs, doublets worked in gold – anything and everything Reid could list of the top of his head. Old checked shirts with missing buttons. Stockings that smelt of smoke and ale.

It only took Reid seconds to find the long cloak of black velvet.

The Selkie's cloak. The one she had worn yesterday.

Reid didn't doubt for a second that all the clothes were stolen. In fact, he bet that the reason she had so many clothes in the first place was so that she could dress differently each day, so that she wouldn't be recognised.

How many times had she stolen from his stall? How many times had he missed her simply because she was wearing baggy pants and a cap over her head?

Reid scowled as he shoved the clothes back into the split between the stones.

Today, he would find her.

It didn't matter that she wasn't human – she was still a thief.

And all thieves deserved to pay.