LettersofSky

Mihal wasn’t often one to leave their boundary, especially not to travel to a different part of the ocean that lay nestled just next to the lighthouse they haunted. If they were going to leave then they wanted to go far, far from the sound of crashing tides, waves breaking, and the beckoning call that still tried to tug at them even after years of being in this form. But somehow the esk found themself strolling along a port north of their home, ignoring the song of water surging over sand in favor of keeping their feet on winter-chilled concrete. It was winter in their home, the sky gray and dull, cooling the ground below already as the sun’s descent started to usher in another early night, and the street they padded along reflected the time of year. There weren’t too many people around them, most having abandoned the sand, waves, and sea spray for the comfort and warmth of their homes and families, smart of them to do with the near unnatural chill there was to the air. Not helped

Watching the hermit crab struggle in this place that wasn’t its home filled Mihal’s chest with a hollow aching, this was… a cruel joke for the ocean to play on them, to have dragged them all the way here only to show them something that hurt them so deeply. The memories of strolling through rock pools with their twin, their small hands curious, minds widening in wonder at every new thing they discovered within the pools. Mihal had held them dearly to their chest, tucked deep, deep inside of their core where nothing would be able to tear them away. The memories were precious to them, they didn’t want the years that had passed to tarnish them more than they already had been. The ocean, or whatever power had tugged them to find the ring on that rock, had no right to tug on those memories and make them feel the confusing tangle of emotions they were wound in. But it did all the same. The web of their feelings shifted enough that sorrow gave way to a sharp, burning anger, limbs

They stood there for long enough that their accessory had returned to them, soft trailing fabric of their scarf covering the top of their tail and winding languidly around the fur, unbothered by the breeze of the ocean or the gathering fog of their elemental obscuring and thickening around their back and the lines of their legs. They could have easily turned and left then, leaving the flower to its place, far from home with no way to get back to it on its own. They almost did. They almost did. But they were sure that this decision would come back to bite them if they didn’t follow through from the start of this journey and help the flower return to its home. They held the coconut flower within their telekinesis’ hold, ignoring the surge of delight it radiated as Mihal leapt off of the railing around the lifeguard tower and started towards the shoreline and the waves crashing there. Still, they came to a halt at the edge of the surf, watching the waves crash and surge back out to

Mihal’s steps were calm and measured as they ventured across the shoreline, ring held securely within their telekinesis, unable to escape their hold regardless of the way the ocean lapped and leapt at the sands only a beat away from their own feet. They knew this beach, had walked it thousands of times during their days as a human, but it’d been some time since they strolled along the shoreline, no clear destination in mind and simply following wherever their feet took them. Well, where the insistent tugging of the ring they were carrying was leading them. Either way, they couldn’t help but feel something soft and nostalgic rise within them as they walked. A feeling they weren’t interested in exploring and quickly squashed before it could inspire anything unsteadying within themself. They didn’t need to wallow in nostalgia, they weren’t some sad creature that needed to be comforted by whom they had been. No matter what their anger towards their sibling’s missing memories might

Mihal couldn’t say what drew them to the ocean that day. While it was true that they often felt a pull towards the waves, the salt water, brine and sea foam that marked the space between land and sea, the trespasser was usually better at ignoring it from atop the lighthouse that served as their haunting grounds. They could ground themself in the smell of the mint that cascaded down htheir neck, the fabric that gathered and shifted around their back limbs, the swirling, heavy blanket of fog that pooled around them, building a boundary between the esk and the ceaseless allure of the ocean. But today was different. There was something calling to them, something purposeful and unwavering within the song of waves crashing against the shore and shrill cry of seabirds, something that seemed to call for them more than Mihal was used to. Something out of the ordinary. The trespasser ignored the calling as well as they could, turning their attention to elsewhere within their boundary;