Blood films her teeth; not much, just enough to coat the tips and enough to provide a metallic tang on her tongue. But not enough to give her a taste, though she can see the red dots darken as pinpricks along the colt’s ashen neck. Part of her mind seeks a further taste— for it wasn’t quite like the blood of those beneath the waves.

But she dismisses that thought, instead focusing on the silent colt. Surprise flashes through her overlarge eyes— he is relaxing? The hump of his back has lessened, the youthful creases of submission around his sooty muzzle are gone.

He nearly falls to his death and she yanks him to safety by her teeth, and he is comforted?

The woman, who was slowly growing accustomed to not fully understanding those who dwelled on the land, was entirely stymied. Her mind, which naturally drew conclusions, was blank— simply staring at the silent foal whose soft mouth parted to break his silence. A nicker; a sound she had heard by those landlubbers, but a sound her own voice had not yet mastered. She fiercely bellowed, she deeply growled, she snarled, snapped, and screamed. But these other sounds, these softer sounds, her lips and voice box could not form.

So, instead, her fins waved and she hummed lowly in her throat in response to his three-syllabic nicker. Her scaled ears perk forward as he began to move closer, breathing on her as he his muzzle reaches for the delicate fins of her face.

Though her first instinct is to pull away (how many times had others grabber he fins, holding her helpless in training?) she stays still. Is breathing some kind of introduction above the waves? As his soft muzzle comes in contact with her sharp, but fragile fins, she (belatedly) breathes out of her own, ridged nostrils.

“They are veleta vizaĝo*, little Kahelo**,” her voice is still pitched as if she were beneath the waves. No longer deep and growling, but lighter. After the fact, she realizes that she had named the silent child. Kahelo— the grey fish that lived in sand; mild flesh that suited the timid nature of this colt. But some— some were bright and brilliant, and worthy of a good chase beneath the waves. Perhaps this youth would grow into that.

Then again, perhaps he was simply a kahelo.


*veleta vizaĝo= fins of the face
**Kahelo = tilefish (she’s referencing the Grey Tilefish species)