Blackwater Islands Oh Comely

Whip was small in his own right, but he tried to make himself smaller. Among the Neriedes, he got by by being unnoticed. In Redhawk Caldera, his percieved invisibility had been the source many'a crisis -- but here, it was his saving grace. He was not among family, nor would he ever be again, so the pain of going unnoticed was sufficiently dulled. In fact, the dull nihilistic ache of meaninglessness far outweighed the pain that would be inflicted upon him should he inadvertantly step out of line.

However, no matter how still Whip stood, he could not shake the matriarch's piercing gaze. She neared, and as she pulled close, she spoke. Her voice was as cold as the water that soaked Whip's forelegs. A chill ran down his spine. His body tensed as he felt her touch against his neck. A salty mixture of brine and blood assailed his sense of smell.

And then, she pulled away to trail into the sea's embrace. Whip took a step forward behind his matriarch, but he was reluctant. "I—" Whip shook his head. "I don't know. I've never had to." His ears fell flat against his head and he stared out to sea. His father had brought him along with his brothers to the shores of Lake Rodney for a time that felt so long ago. The others, they swam with abandon -- but Whip had been fearful.

Fearful, just as he was now as his eyes fell on the gentle current of the channel.