Blackwater Islands Oh Comely

Through her narrowed, hawkish eyes, she watched him as he waded into the water. She could sense the fear he harbored for the water—his breath staggered, his muscles tense, and his pupils dialated when he cast them back over his shoulder for reassurance. She nodded, once, and followed him as he wandered out of reach. The Matriarch couldn't afford to lose him, even if the Sea willed it. But, thankfully, She was calm today and Akantha could feel her cool touch probing and caressing her as her body became submurged, welcoming her daughter back into Her embrace.

Akantha waited for Whip to reach his limit. And waited. And waited. But the grayscale boy kept pushing forward until his body bobbed awkwardly in the surf, and his head poked stiffly out of the water. To her utter surprise, Whip was swimming. It lacked the grace of her Sisters, but his legs churned and lent momentum to his movements. She stood, gobsmacked, at the sight and couldn't quite reign in her joy when he looked her way. 

She pushed off the bottom and glided towards him, but not too close to avoid tangling their limbs. She didn't want to disturb his progress, but she hovered protectively all the same in case he floundered. "Excellent!" She breathed, "See? Your mind remembers, even if you do not." Akantha stopped herself before it turned into a sermon. "It'll take time to build up stamina, but soon you'll be swimming the channel without the assistance of the sandbar."