Stavanger Bay drowning.

she couldn't breathe. it was only that which consumed her. she had no name. no knowledge of who she was or who she had been. no knowledge of the time that passed. it was only this weightlessness and the tightness in her chest and throat.

and the will to survive.

her legs kicked against the current, fighting to reach the surface before it was too late, only able to hope that the direction she chose was up. was life.

her head broke the water's surface, and she gasped quickly, drinking in as much oxygen as she could before more waves shoved her back under. but at least she could see the sand swirling beneath her— the shallows. she was nearing a place where she could regain her footing, to stand and return to the earth. but the undertow sucked her back under, her head met either sharp coral or rock, and the dark witch knew nothing— not even drowning.

+++

her body rests upon the shore, the low tide lapping at her hindquarters. her breath is shallow, having already expelled the brine from her lungs, but she lives. ravens draw near, from their roosts within the seaside forests— they are curious if she is meat for the taking, or if she will become it.