Ewan

The net came up heavier than it should have, thrashing and snarled.

Ewan swore under his breath as he hauled it in, only to still when he saw the blood - dark against wet brown fur.

A young seal, tangled tight, a deep gash torn across its shoulder where the rope had bitten too hard.

“Damn it,” he muttered, already cutting her free.
She was weak, shuddering, eyes glassy with pain.

Leaving her would mean death. He wrapped her in his coat and took her back with him, the boat creaking toward the lighthouse as dusk settled in.

Inside, he laid the seal near the hearth, stoked the fire, and turned to fetch bandages and salve. The wind moaned through the stone tower. When he turned back -
The seal was gone.

In her place sat a girl before the fire, knees drawn to her chest, skin damp, hair tangled.

The seal pelt lay pooled around her like shed skin. Her hand pressed clumsily to the bleeding shoulder, eyes wide and terrified as a startled animal’s.

Ewan froze.

Understanding came slowly, heavily.

Selkie. The old stories he’d laughed at as a boy pressed in on him, sudden and real.

She shrank back when he stepped closer.

“It’s alright,” he said, softer than he meant to. He held up the bandages, moved slow, careful. “You’re hurt... I'll help you."