#odyssey

Her spirals almost glow red, eyes flickering like embers.

Someone speaks to Mama Saoirse and gestures over towards the approaching trio, she turns and regards them, waiting.

Gwen is tall, and hopes for a chance to see the baby's face. Sure, they tend to look alike but they do have a picture to compare her to

But she also bows , unsure of the ettiquette so going with what she knows

"Greetings, Chief Mama Saoirse of Red Fin. I am Thistlethwaite Fulcanelli, of Silver Wolf."

"Dame Gladiola, also of Silverwolf" Gwen says

Art bows. He may someday have a title, but even if so, this lady is a Freeholder it seems, and even if not, so, she is clearly held in deference. "Art Anderson, of Silverwolf."

Saoirse looks at them each in turn, appraisingly. "Tell me why you have come, to this place that is so far from your land of forests and cold rivers."

"I have come, fresh from learning my Name, because I have been wronged. That which is rightfully mine has been stolen from me, and I seek to be made whole."

Thistle may realize that by now, it has been several days - maybe more, who knows how long that flicker-flash left them in transit? But that's not really important right now.

"I am Saoirse, ruler of the redfin and of this Grotto, this island, and the waters around her."

The man standing to her left seeks to whisper in her ear - They recognize him as 'Omario' from the pictures. She brushes him aside with a shake of her head.

"Although our lands are closed to strangers, you came on the sufferance of one that we trust - we will allow you this visit. I will hear your grievance, Thistlethwaite of Silverwolf."

"The sister of my blood, a babe, was stolen from her cradle. Magic was used to conceal the theft. I will take her back now, please."

The man steps forward. "I am Omario McKenly of the Redfin, and I speak for the child of my blood. She is my niece, and I rescued her from a life mundane and drear, without the sea, without hope."

"You took her from a life of love" Gwen says "You stole her from your own sister and a good man."

Art frowns, looking from Saoirse to Omario and back.

"She is not your child. You rejected and cast out your sister, and renounced claims upon her. This babe is my sister. I will not abandon her, and she is entitled to grow up with her family which loves her - and, perhaps, to one day make a choice. But it must be her choice, when she is of age."

Thistle's hands are clenched into fists, all of her nerves hiding in those white knuckles.

Saoirse looks pained at Thistle's argument, and she holds the child gently, joggling her just a bit in the way babes like.

"When Sine rejected us and chose a mortal life, she renounced her status as fae. There is no law against stealing away a mortal babe to live a changeling life. It is the Old Way. If she raises this child, she will raise her without love of the sea, without knowledge that there can be more to life, and she will be lost to us." Omario argues back.

"The old way would respect the lords of the land the babe was taken from. Had you come to the Baron and Baroness, they would have explained Thistle's rightful claim"

"You can't hide behind your mighty lords and ladies now." Omario shoots back, "Here, the Redfin rule. We bow to no shining host."

"I am Fae. I have my Name. She is my kin, she is not a random mortal - Sine has no ties here, they are severed both ways. You presume much, and have stolen from me based on your presumptions. I don't give a flyin' FURK at a sailfish's sphincter at how you try to justify this as old tradition - because she is MY KIN and that's older and more primal than your equivocating."

"I don't care about the elves, I don't care about titles, I want my sister!" Her voice cracks.

"And I suspect," A look to the Chief "That if a child of your land was troll kin, and someone came and stole her from a kinain mother under your rule, you would be rightly offended, Chieftain."

Art's expression turns hard at the crack in Thistle's voice.

To Gwen, the Chieftess responds cooly, "Our laws govern the red fin. We are the Selkie folk of the Island. Our bloodline is our strength, and our weakness. We are apart from other fae, and mortals alike. So must we endure to survive. We do not meddle in outside affairs, and seek to keep them from coming to us."

"These actions brought us here, Chieftess."

"Meddling has been done" A nod in agreement with her friend

Art asks, "Why is it your weakness? You control the land - and the volcano itself?" He asks, making a guess. "So much work to keep people away. But why? You are not Fae - you are changelings just as we are, for all you have different ways. You need mortals - they are half of who you are."

"You know nothing-!" Omario starts to snap at Art, but Saoirse again raises her hand to quiet him. The tall selkie man fumes.

"Spoken like a true Arcadian. You speak out of ignorance." Her voice is calm/

He frowns at this. "Please, enlighten me. Us."

She turns and gestures past the people who have gathered now, listening and watching curiously - a small crowd - to the seals that lounge on the shore of the lake.

"Look there, and tell me what you see."

She kens, not sure she can make it reach this far, and in this place of magic it might be...flooded out. But she looks with mortal eyes as well

"I see a grandmother who knows what it means to lose part of her family."

Saoirse tries to maintain her composure, but Thistle sees her expression slip, pained, for just a moment before she hardens it.

Gwen was about to answer but hell, she can't top that

"I'm a nocker. I am surrounded by flawed things - I know, personally, what it feels like when a family is broken. But things that are broken can be fixed - maybe not to what they were before, certainly not perfect, but with work, they can be better."

"I will answer you, Art of SIlverwolf." She says, not meeting Thistle's gaze. "What you see here, is my clan. This is all that is left of us. Of an entire species, decimated by mortals. When our Ancestors came here, some were brought as chattel from Africa, others brought as workers from Ireland, but all slaves bent under the yoke of masters to work on plantations. They banded together, guided by the Sealfolk from Ireland, and became one. A great magical working was wrought, to link our clan with the seals who live in these waters, basking in the warmth, not those who know cool breakers and Celtic shores.

We became the Redfin, and wrested a new life out of despair. But mortal man's greed could not be withstood. Generation after generation, they preyed upon our seal kin. First for oil for ships and lamps, and then to grease the wheels of machinery on their plantations. Then for skins, then for sport, because they are gentle and know not to fear man. They overfished the reefs, and decimated the seas. With no fish to feed on, entire generations died."

"We are the Redfin, and our seals are the Caribbean Monk Seal. They are extinct."

Thistle's eyes widen, horrified

Gladiola can't help but look down in respect at that "There is nothing we can say to ease that pain, to correct that injustice, but please, how does that involve the child?"

"It is for our protection that we must remain apart from Mortals. Not for the individual, but the entire clan. If we are seen - mortals will tell tales, and come looking for the seals that no longer live. Some may wish to help - to capture and study, find out if the species still lives. They will investigate, and try to 'rescue', and take us to zoos and aquariums. They would find and defile our sacred places. Sine knew this, and she still showed herself, to save a mortal man. She knew the reason behind our laws. Of the Escheat, we must uphold first and foremost the right of Ignorance. It was not lightly that she did this, I know, but neither was it lightly that she was cast out."

"She has accepted that. It saddens her, though she tries to hide it for the sake of others. She did not seek any respite from her banishment."

Omario is impatient and says to Gwen and Thistle dismissively, "There can be another child. If I had know there would be such a fuss, I would have handled it myself. Many languish in orphanages or uncared for. It is not too late, swap in another babe, and let her have a mortal child to raise, and be done with it."

Her eyes flash! She is biting back a curse.

Gladiola looks at the man with hard eyes "a FUSS? I'm not a mother but even I know one does not simply surrender one child for another as if they were interchangible"

Controlled. "There is no other child for me. This is my sister."

She looks to the women at the room at that. Particularly any old enough to be mothers

Art is stiff and his hands balled into fists. He looks like he is poised to jump at the man himself, for all Omario has several feet and many pounds of muscle on him.

Of Saoirse herself, her gaze goes hard. "I have heard enough."

"But Mother-"

"ENOUGH, Omario!"

To Thistle, she speaks. "I did not send him to steal the child. But finding her here, was like having my own daughter returned to me. She is of Redfin blood, of his blood, and of my blood. I would accept her as one of our people, and she would live protected here, part of the next generation of Redfin Selkies, wild and free, answering to only the sea and her clan and her own soul. She would be loved."

"I don't doubt that, Chief Saoirse."

"But you would take her from us, back to your cold waters and mortal life." Another selkie, a man from the crowd calls.

"Let her stay!" Others say, a murmur gathering in the crowd. "Send her home!" Another voice argues.

A look to the man, "Cold Waters can still have warm hearts. You all know this."