Teri McLaren
"I know. I know." The little man sighed, one ugly boot in hand. His waterlogged sandals still squished a little. "I just wish it were otherwise. I just wish she loved me like I love her."
Cheyne gently pushed the songmage in front of him and hung back for a moment, listening. Not far away, to the right, he knew he had heard someone moving among the trees-someone who seemed to know their way. From Claria's estimation, that's where the river lay. The trees seemed less dense there as well, affording him a protected view. He stood silently listening to the whisper of the cooling wind in the fragrant pines.
And then he saw them. Yob, his shoulders stooped and his hand at his neck, lumbered along not fifty feet away; behind him a dark-skinned woman walked as if she owned the forest and everything in it. It was Yob who made all of the noise. The woman moved as though her feet never touched the ground, as though she swam through the air. They seemed to be walking with purpose and speed. And Yob seemed very unhappy about all of it.
Cheyne slowly let go of the bough he held in front of his face. In a few steps, he was back with Claria and Og and had bade them to stop.
"Ogwater, it's your old friend, Yob. And he looks to be injured, though he's on his feet well enough. A dark woman walks behind him, and I think she has a definite destination," he whispered as the trio crouched low under the pines.
"She'll have a definite purpose, too. She must be a selkie," replied Og, his face furrowing.
"A selkie?" said Claria.
"Yes. Riverfolk, you know. Change from humans, or nearly human form, to otters and such, depending on their clan. Live in the forest here, further upstream, but they know everything that happens in the water. She must have found Yob at the delta. Selkies really love three things in life: games, baubles, and fishing in the tidal pools. They used to frequent these parts, before