It was…heavier up here. Everything was. Without the water buoying her, Hæra’s own body seemed to weigh her down, to say nothing of Sister Madeleine’s limp form. Hæra was more than equal to the challenge—the bodies of the Each-uisge could withstand the pressures of the deep—but already the world of things with legs was different from anything she’d ever known.

So this was land.

Sister Madeleine groaned as Hæra dragged her over the small rocks and pebbles. This wasn’t like the sandy beach she’d visited earlier. Everything was hard and bumpy. The rocks were slippery and unpleasant beneath Hæra’s hooves. They must feel worse against Sister Madeleine’s softer form.

How soft was it? What would it be like to touch human skin—or to wear it?

Now well out of the water, Hæra opened her mouth and dropped her burden to the ground. Sister Madeleine moaned again. More blood trickled from the cut on her forehead. By the depths, to drink it! But if Hæra bent her head to sample what she craved, she’d be lost. They both would be. What began as a taste would end as a feast.

Sister Madeleine’s eyelids fluttered. She coughed, and water came out of her mouth.

In a moment, she’d wake up and see a horse looming over her, bigger than any horse on land. And this time, she might notice that the horse had glowing yellow eyes and sharp teeth. Hæra needed to leave without a word, without a taste.

Unless…

Unless.

Madeleine’s head hurt. Everything hurt, especially her chest. She was cold and soaking wet. She coughed, and that was wet too, although her chest felt better as her air passages cleared. Her mouth was salty. Where was she? What had just happened?

There had been a dock—a horse⁠—

A woman’s face loomed over her. Very close.

And with a sudden movement, the woman lay on top of Madeleine, not quite squashing her into the hard rocks beneath her back but definitely pinning her down.

In the darkness, and with Madeleine’s swimming vision, it was impossible to make out the woman’s features. But long hair fell over her shoulders in a wet curtain around Madeleine’s head. The woman’s eyes seemed to…to glow, almost, in a color Madeleine couldn’t make sense of.

A hand touched the top of her head. The woman bent down, and Madeleine whimpered at a sudden, sharp sting. She must have a cut on her forehead? It burned, and the woman had just licked it.

The woman made a low, soft noise. Like a moan.

Madeleine moaned too, mostly because she couldn’t figure out how to form words.

The woman took her hand from Madeleine’s forehead. She cupped her face and lowered her head. Her lips pressed against Madeleine’s own.