There was a squall brewing in the west. Maren could feel its breeze from her perch on the stern of her sailboat. It was distinctly cooler, a chilly breath tickling her skin and chasing away the warm wind she had grown accustomed to that day. The waves that knocked on the hull were textured with the ripples of the new wind, and just beyond the sun that peeked through the mainsail was a grey mass of clouds approaching. It looked thunderous inside.
Maren didn’t waste her time. She made a turnabout and followed the gulls that circled around her mast back to shore. She could see the docks in the distance when the first raindrop fell, and by then, it was too late. The wind picked up into a violent current that ripped into her sail and flew her hair and clothes into a disarray. She dropped the sails a moment too late, let the anchor go seconds before she should have, and it tipped.
Her normally sturdy boat took a dip to the side, and it didn’t stop. The weight of the boom and the anchor dragged the boat down along its side, and in a flurry of movement and panic, Maren fell.
She hit the water with a slam, pushed under by the weight of her own boat. It was dark and weightless for a moment, the tug of the current under her almost enough to drag her down into the depths below. She flailed and surfaced before she could let it. Harsh rain pounded on her already-soaked skin and hair, pushing droplets into her eyes, and she grasped desperately onto the side of her ship. Her grandfather would be laughing at her, she thought, for such a rookie mistake.
Capsizing a catboat in a squall, Maren could almost hear him laugh from beyond the grave.
I haven’t done that since I was a teenager.
At least her wand was still in her pocket.
A flash of lightning and a quake of thunder struck overhead, the wind picked up again, and her boat was pushed into her stomach. She hardly had time to take a breath before she was shoved underwater again, and the last thing she saw was the hazy image of the mast of her boat coming up to strike her in the head, and darkness consumed her.
—
She must have been afloat while unconscious because she was woken by the sensation of water filling her lungs and a hand around her wrist. It was dark, too dark, and she could see the light of the surface above slowly fading away. It was only muscle memory that had her reaching for her wand and casting Respiratus, and then she could see and breath again.
Her eyes were drawn to the scaly hand gripping her wrist and the claws that dug into her skin; her gaze traveled up along the spindly arm of the creature, to the face curtained by cyan wafts of hair, and down to the tail that made up their lower body. It was a merperson.
Her grandfather had spoken of them before, described them as creatures who would not hesitate to bring your boat down and you along with it.
And this one was dragging Maren down into the sea.
She struggled and thrashed against the hold on her wrist, but every movement was slow and— oh. There was blood sticking to her face under the bubble of Respiratus. She had a concussion, and the mer was being gentle. Against her better judgement, she let herself be brought down into the depths.
They led her down into a cave covered by lichen, pushed her inside, and sat her on a rock before moving away to flitter around the cave, gathering things in their clawed hands.
The cave was brightly colored. It spiralled away into darkness, but the first half that belonged to the mer was decorated in trinkets of every kind. Forks, plates, broken amulets that were held together by scraps of seagrass; things that were once broken, had drifted down, and were now fixed by this mer. It relaxed her a bit. This was not an aggressive being. She floated as still as possible when the mer cleaned the blood and bandaged her head, and then the two simply stared at each other.
She needed to get back to her house, to her younger brother— but the mer stood fast in front of the cave and shook their head. Maren sighed and began to swim, back and forth as if pacing. It didn’t seem as if she would be going anywhere anytime soon.
—
When the mer seemed fed up with Maren’s underwater pacing, they took her hand and beckoned her out of the cave. They swam along the curving sea floor, where schools of fish drifted by and seagrass perked up from the earth. There, in the distance, was a field of jellyfish.
Maren stared in awe at the sheer number of them. There were all sorts of colors: oranges and pinks, the kinds which she thought only existed in the sunset. The mer led them closer, until they were floating between the trails of frilly tendrils and could see up into the hollow balloons of their umbrella-shaped bodies. Only when she lagged behind, head aching, did the mer turn back to the cavern.
She drifted off inside the cave, casting Respiratus again when she needed to, and when she was offered seaweed to soothe her rumbling stomach, she took it. Somehow, the next day dawned; or Maren assumed it had, for it had grown dark and light again beyond the cave. Her strange circumstances were no less stranger, even as the mer took her hand again and ventured out beyond the cave.
This time they avoided the jellyfish and delved into a ravine. It was covered in trees that seemed to thrive in the pressure of the water. Delicate flowers grew on the tips of branches, and as they explored, the mer tucked one behind Maren’s ear. She didn’t take it out.
Sometime later (had it been days now?) they explored a glorious reef, swam beside the meandering turtles, and touched the tallest coral.
It went on like this for some time, and a haze fell over Maren’s mind as the mer led her from the deepest caves to the brightest reefs. The mer was kind and playful, so different from the merpeople she had encountered before.
And then, suddenly, clarity struck through her mind, and Maren knew it was time to leave. Her brother needed her. The mer did not stop her, despite the sad downturn of their blue lips and sorrowful grey eyes. Merely took her hand one last time, and led her into the ocean.
They did not go to the surface, but Maren trusted her friend. They went deeper into the ocean than ever before, through the now-empty field where they had swam with jellyfish, through the ravine of yellow flowers, and beyond the reef, where she was led into a small cave. In the center, among a bed of pink coral, was a bundle wrapped in sodden cloth.
The mer let go of Maren’s hand, lifted the bundle into their arms, and held it out. Inside was a human child.
Maren identified the small gills on the side of the baby’s face to be of gurgle weed, and she understood. This mer, gentle and kind, had found this human child, broken and alone, and wanted to save them. Like the forks and plates and broken things on shelves of the mer’s cave, and even like Meran herself, this child needed to be fixed.
Maren took the bundle, and the mer smiled, satisfied. They swam back to the cave, beyond it, and to the surface, where the ocean’s floor slanted upwards to the shore. She moved toward it, one hand full of the bundle and another in the mer’s own hand; but they didn’t let go. She looked back, and the mer was holding on tight, unwilling to let go of their friend.
She moved her hand to cup their scaly face, and smiled. “We’ll see each other again,” she said, and although the mer likely couldn’t understand her, they smiled anyway, and let her go up to the shore where she belonged.
They would see each other again, and until then, Maren would take care of the broken child in her arms.
