It certainly was a long swim to reach the end of the tunnel, but the herbs helped. At the exit, Kerrigan kicked forward and arced through the cold, still blue towards the sky. She broke the surface and filled her lungs, treading water. 

It was another long swim to the shore.

Kerrigan dropped to her knees on the wet sand, gasping and huffing.

I never want to swim again.

You weren't the one swimming.

I never want to experience you swimming again.

I can't argue with that.

Kerrigan stood, shivering. Her feet were bare - there was no sense in beginning this journey on squelching leather. A Siren from the clan had seemed pretty pleased in acquiring her boots, despite their lack of feet. On the other hand, the rest of her attire was dripping wet and clung to her skin. She regarded her situation briefly, unfastened her collar, straightened the knapsack on her back, and set off towards a distant signpost.

She stopped at the dusty track. Carriage wheels and hooves had left their mark on the road, though she could not tell what was fresh. On the grassy mound opposite, beyond which the fields and trees began, was a signpost. Right: Penshaw. Left: Main Harbour. A small, frightened part of Kerrigan wanted so badly to turn right, follow it to the nearest Inn, to drink and sleep and to be left alone. But too much of her being, and Po in her entirety, enticed her to turn left.

Her feet ached, but it hardly troubled her. It was the least of her concerns. She watched the dappled sunlight on the track, splashing between the branches from the trees on the mound. When she looked left, she could see the tiny specks of Little Valley close to the horizon. Sirens were fleeing their home. Kerrigan walked.

Stones scraped her skin. Seawater dripped from her still shivering body, leaving dark speckles on the dry, dusty track. Her hair fell in damp, thick locks across her forehead, where her fringe hadn't quite grown out. Her brow furrowed, the skin at the bridge of her nose creased.

You're tensing.

Kerrigan felt her shoulders relax. She rolled them and stretched her neck, tilting her head from one side to the other.

It's a lot of pressure, being the hero, you know?

Better a hero than a coward.

I'm sorry, running away from an entire empire that wishes you a fate worse than death isn't cowardice. It's common sense.

You know it terrifies me, too, right? To think I have no idea what would become of me if you were to ever depart. But we have tried running, and nothing changes but the landscape.

You want a fight, I know.

I want to make a stand. Somebody has to make a stand, why not us? We are one of the Marked. The others are out there, somewhere, and if we found them -

Don't talk about the others.

Kerrigan, the Marked should be a unit - if we were to group, so much could be accomplished -

"Shut up!" Kerrigan yelled, fists clenched. Birds flew from the trees.

The sound of the ocean purred. The wind ruffled the leaves and the sunlight danced at her feet. She straightened up and wiped the spit from her lip.

We are not going to talk about this, not now. There's just you and me.

She continued along the winding track.