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She laughed out loud—it was all so wonderful—and then began to sing. Softly at first, and then with more vigor. The water around her started to swirl, and she raised her voice until the water began moving in quick circles, little tornadoes reaching deep under the surface.

And as she sang, she thought how each thing entering her—the air, the flakes falling from the sky, all this sound and feeling—now felt like a soul. As if it was this euphoria that had filled those men at their birth and left them in the sea, and it was this that had filled the man she’d brought to shore and had started to fill her, too, as she carried him in her arms.

In the distance, now, she could just barely make out a shape of land. There! She stretched her tail and pushed through the water, heading toward land, toward him, and, as she approached, the land came more and more into relief. The same rocky beach, the sheet of rock, the wall, the building behind it, spread out, the torches, flickering to life. All of it coated in shimmering ice and snow.

Was he in there? Could he see the same light from the torches?

Come to me, she thought. Come back. Concentrating, so that he would hear her.

When she reached the shore, she closed her eyes and tried to imagine the feel of him under her, the warm, soft skin … She put everything she could into it, that feeling, that memory, to call to him. Never before then had she longed for legs, the strange appendages that allowed men to walk along the earth. Legs that would carry her to him.

How far does this world stretch? she wondered. Was it as wide and vast as the sea? What could possibly be inside that building on the cliff with the torches surrounding it, a giant cross extending from the roof and seeming to tap the sky? She had seen those crosses before, small ones, large ones, among the shipwrecks in the sea, and she knew, from her grandmother, that they had to do with souls.

The beach was deserted, rock-ridden, white with snow. She pulled herself onto the shore, dragging her body across the rocks, and stretched out her tail before her. For a moment, she was dazzled as the pale light hit her own body. How odd—the greens and blues that glittered from her tail, in the light. She held up her arms and laughed as they changed color. Maybe she would stay here forever, she thought, live on crabs she plucked from the rocks. He could stay here with her, and she could sing to him, and he could tell her of his travels in this bright, loud world.

She heard a sound and flinched. Was someone here? She looked up and down the shore, but it was empty. In the back of her mind, a shadow memory stirred, mermaid sisters being hacked apart by men. She closed her eyes, willed the image away.

And then suddenly, a figure appeared, on the cliff, at the top of the stairway. Lenia gasped, twisted her body around, toward the water.

“Please, stay!” she heard. The voice was strange, piercing. “Wait!”

The panic in the voice made Lenia stop. She turned back again and saw it was the girl from before, wrapped in furs, her dark hair blowing around her. Rushing down the stairs now, nearly tripping as she clutched the thin railing.

Lenia watched, fascinated, her body poised to return to the water in one leap, as the girl descended the stairs. A real human girl, right in front of her.

The girl reached the bottom of the stairway and began crossing the shore, to where Lenia sat. Walking tentatively over the rocks. She was beautiful, her movements graceful and light. Even with the furs swaddling her, and the long white garment underneath, stretching to her feet. Her black hair whipped around her face. Her skin was so delicate, like it could split open in an instant. Raw. Lenia could smell the girl, the smell of warmth and blood. The girl’s fragility, so much like the man’s. And yet the girl did not seem fragile, but confident and sure as she approached.

Lenia relaxed her body. Alone, this girl was no threat to her, she realized. Lenia could lift one of these rocks and smash her head in an