Betwixt the rolling reflections of sunlight that bounced off the thaw of snow and the blue skies that tore through past cloudy skies, the Scottish atmosphere broke through into from the monochrome of gray to brilliant hues of azure streaking above, patches of green grass, smoky brown of the hills, all mixed by the iridescent meltdown of snowbanks that slowly rolled along in murky patches of white. It was a one in a million scene, the sort Eilidh couldn’t have paid enough to see, and yet, here she sat, just outside her front door, watching nature succumb to such an arresting embrace of winter only for this brief respite to catch her eye, and her soul. Coffee in her lap, she sat with her leg to her knee, sunken into her chair, watching almost intently out into the valley below with an almost reverent attention before lazily falling for natures lull, simply staring out as though having become one with it all.

The front door creaked upon opening, signaling Córu’s awakening, which, sure enough, preempted her sticking her head out; her hair wholly bedraggled after what must have been an uncharacteristically rough night – or a peculiarly deep one – which shone brown indoors, now as the sun finally broke through the clouds, allowed her hair to shimmer with all the crimson hues it had been imbued with.

“Oh, you’re out here,” she spoke, almost with worry, “I woke up and you weren’t-”

“Shhhh-” Eilidh warded off her speech.

Córu watched her intently before glancing off, examining the valley below – Loch Lomond – with a steady expression, before returning to Eilidh, “This is a- spiritual thing?”

Eilidh allowed a slow nod.

Twisting her lips, Córu nodded appropriately, taking another brief moment to examine all that was amongst the landscape – a difficult task, given how much of it was the Loch – before turning to step back inside, only for Eilidh to speak up, quietly.

“I never did properly thank you.”

The selkie paused, turning toward her. Eilidh didn’t take her eyes off of the melting Highlands, though she continued nonetheless, her speech slowed in an uncharacteristic pattern of speaking, “With everything going on, admittedly – I mean, me nearly losing my life – I think I deserve a bit of leeway. But, thank you. for saving me. I know you don’t like that lake, for whatever reason- you didn’t have to do that, and probably hated doing it. but thank you.” Her eyes tensed, almost as if she were holding back tears. “I wouldn’t have had this, otherwise.”

Córu smiled, softly, contented to do so as long as Eilidh was peering away from her.

“You were a shock to my life, already, and now with you speaking- It’d grown accustomed to something only for there to be another jolt to what I’ve built out here. and I came out here specifically to avoid such things,” Eilidh admitted carefully, making sure to keep her pause short to avoid offense, “Sometimes it feels like most people in my life are shocks, and they stay that – that they exist just to be negative agency in my life. I give, and they just take.”

She turned her head only slightly, though her eyes remained fixed on the scene before her, “You seem like one of the good ones, so- Thank you. I don’t often feel like others would stick their neck out for me like you did.”

Córu’s smile turned mournful, weighing her reply against what was given, “Well- Perhaps when you’ve been hurt, yourself, it’s easier to recognize that in others.”  A pause of her own. “You saved me, too, so- I never properly thanked you, either.”

A scoff from Eilidh, a grin stretching across her face as she sipped her coffee, “Maybe not in words, but you’ve certainly paid me back adequately enough in action. A life for a life, as they say?”

“A bit reductive, wouldn’t you say?” Córu countered, slightly offering a teasing tone in her voice, “After all, you’re the one who hasn’t been content with merely ending things on a ‘life for a life’. You proposed teaching me adequately before sending me out into the world and all that entails.”

Eilidh shrugged, “Well, that’s more civic duty. I am a teacher.”

A smile on Córu’s lips.

The human woman finally turned her eyes toward the selkie, “You want to join me? I know you don’t do coffee, but you’re welcome to some Dutch-imported tea. The kettle should still be asimmer.”

“Ah, I’ll be fine,” Córu held her pelt close, stepping nearer to Eilidh and sitting beside her on the ground.

“It was 1296, some five hundred years ago,” Eilidh muttered, her voice sober, though there hung some duty of intrigue in her words, “Edward the First decided to meddle in out affairs – after we asked him to, but that’s beside the point – and thought wee old Scotland would just submit and capitulate to this other country to the south, England. Well, it took a while, but we showed them! Twice in fact! that weren’t gonna just sit down and let ‘em!” She left her mug in her lap, slamming her fist with her open palm.

Córu chuckled playfully as she watched, Eilidh sighing longingly as she sunk back in her chair, “At least until eighty or so years ago. Gods, I still remember my grandpa harping about it.” She grinned softly. “There were fucking riots in Glasgow. Riots! In that sleepy little city!”

She shook her head, “He died hoping – hell, probably praying – that I’d one day live in an independent nation the way he had. I doubt that’ll happen; certainly not in my lifetime, but- maybe one day. Until then- my father always made a stink about what he called ‘financial secession’, or whatever, and not supporting England, which is stupid, I mean, we literally pay taxes. But the Dutch have everything the English have, it just costs a little bit more, and can be a little bit more difficult to get- takes a bit longer. It’s made me patient. somewhat.”

Eilidh turned to Córu, noticing her grin holding back a laugh, “What?”

“So, you’re a little rebel at heart? It runs in the family, then? That’s your excuse?”

“It’s not an excuse,” she shrugged, “You wanted to know why everything is Dutch around here, that’s why.”

Córu smiled, “I think it’s kind of sweet. to have that kind of bond with your family; even if it’s not a positive one.”

“I take it this is the part where you tell me that selkies go off on their own from a young age?”

Smirking, Córu marveled with a sarcastic tease, “There’s no getting past you, is there?”

“I could have been lying this whole time. I may have harbored tons of selkies before you,” Eilidh eyed her sidelong with a wry smirk, “Every selkie story involves either a selkie being forced to land by some man stealing her pelt, or a selkie enticing and seducing men to their deaths. Maybe all the stories are wrong; it’s all backwards and I’m the one luring all the selkies into my clutches.”

Córu giggled, “-and then teaching them how to assimilate into Scottish culture before sending them off? Bandaging their wounds, teaching them to brew coffee, showing them your paintings, giving them lodging?”

“Hey, I never said I was an efficient temptress,” Eilidh shrugged, “I certainly wouldn’t be living out here if that were the case. I’d just be another spinster in Dumbarton – I think they’re calling them ‘masterless women’ these days; I kind of like that, actually.” She took a final swig of her coffee before turning to Córu. “Which, speaking of, my musket should have been repaired within the week, so a trip into town won’t be out of the question in the next day or two.”

Córu’s ears perked up, “Into- town? with all of the lir- humans?”

“All the lirds, yes,” Eilidh nodded, “Assuming you’re interested in going. It would have been a non-starter a couple days ago, but if you can speak, it’s more a question of whether or not you can hold to societal conventions, which Sky and I barely do, ourselves, so I doubt you’ll have much to catch up on. I’m mostly just caught up on the story, really.”

The selkie’s brow furrowed, “Story? Meaning-”

“Well, you have to admit, sitting down and telling somebody my new housemate is a selkie is a bit- odd, to say the least,” Eilidh muttered, turning to gauge Córu’s expression for insult, finding none, “I’ve been curious what to say; whether you’re a distant cousin, or somebody I bumped into along the way into town.”

Córu’s lips tugged forward, tensing with worry.

“-or, you know, just going fuck it and saying, “you know that seal I rescued? Yeah, it’s a selkie named Córu, deal with it”. Honestly, it wouldn’t be the strangest thing to come out of my mouth around my friends,” Eilidh chuckled to herself, “Honestly, I’m owed one for when Skyla became an ale distiller and literally nobody gave her shit for that, and she went on to be pretty successful, so- Who the hell knows, maybe you’ll become a rabid revolutionary for the Scottish cause as a result of this, I don’t know.”

Smirking, Córu muttered, “Well, I don’t know, yet, if I prefer the English’s coffee…”

Eilidh shot her a dry stare than made the selkie laugh, forcing her to cover her mouth, turning away to hide any embarrassment that might arise. Confronted with nothing but the woman’s hair, fluttering in the breezy, jostled by shoulders undone by laughter, all alight by the sun in all the hues of red that made the selkie woman seem like all manner of spectrum that one saw within the comforting tones of flame- haunted, still, by her lips, by her unknowing stares- Dipping forward, Eilidh’s lips curled into a soft smile, sneaking one more glance before returning to the landscape before her.

Though, she wished to return. For all the beauty she had awoken to find in nature, in that brief moment of a glance, for all it held in crimson hues and recollection, perhaps it was even more striking.

“Thank you,” Córu spoke up, her laughter only coming in wild, inconsistent waves now.

Eilidh’s brow rose, returning her attention to the selkie, “For what?”

“The laughter. It feels like it’s been forever since- I don’t know. Since I’ve felt so- free.”

Perhaps this home – these foothills – simply had that effect on people.