TITLE: The Legend of Falkeld Island
This is not a good idea.
I watch the bobbing boat lights of night patrols, hearing Gaffer's voice echo in my head. "Kade m'boy, ne'er fall in love wi' a mhara. They cannae be trusted."
Its that last part that sticks with me.
They cannae be trusted. "Well I don't have much of a choice now, do I Gaffer?" My voice is lost in wind and the low whoosh, whoosh, whoosh-ing of the tide pulling in and out.
I gaze over the water. Something stirs, rippling the surface far beyond the break. My heart leaps. But its too dark to see. To catch a glimpse of a maighdean mhara.
I move towards the ripple anyway, steeling myself against fear. I've only seen a mhara once in my life. I was nine.
And her memory still chills my blood like winter.
That night, the ocean crashed against Muireall's black cliffs, ripping out boulders, and smahing boats and sails against rock. Water flooded fields, washing away newly sown crops.
I stood on the shore as long as I could. Waiting for him to come home. To see the white of his mast flag touch the horizon. Weathering the storm. Coming home to me.
Instead, I saw her.
Standing on the cliff, long black hair whipping about her naked body. She faced the wind, arms and fingers spread at her sides. She lifted her hands and the storm rose, as if she commanded the elements.
Terror gripped me, but I couldn't move.