Wheeling Gull Isle i got a prayer that'll make you theirs now

The winterspring was upon them, and so the family kept on the move. They visited the land of the white for a time, ate their fill of the creatures there, played their games, but granddaughter could not be appeased for long. She wished to return to the warm waters. The cold did not bother her; it was difficult to acclimatise to the narrow route the pod followed, and thus she was forced to mingle with the young and old, to not wander. There was not much to see in the white place; but soon enough the days grew long again, and the deep water blushed with subtle warmth. They knew to return, then, and it was granddaughter who led the charge.

But she was too eager. The others could not keep up with her, and soon she had left them behind to their own machinations in the deep. This was fine, for granddaughter trusted in the guidance of the Mother — and her path led her across the vastness of the deep place, until she drifted between spits of land that seemed familiar. They were different only for their colors; the spring had changed the landscape that she spied in her drifting, but the most interesting thing that granddaughter spied were the land-locked beasts crawling along the shores of the island.

These were new. These poor seal-things, who had lost their fins and could not commune with the Mother, they were not meant to be here. The creature grins, blowing salt through her yellowed teeth, and then plunged from the warmth-touched surface water in to the depths. This, she had surmised, would become her shrine to Mother.