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Gentle water lapped against the sand rising from its depths, carrying the call of the sea into the little cove. The overhang carved from stone and dripping with cool, damp moss trapped the wind pulling in, settling the air with its chill. Thäna shuddered. The sound of the waves was mocking in its serenity. Calling out in that sweet, deceitful voice not to worry: only to come crashing in, beating over the shore at the first hint of a storm. The Child hated everything about it. The blue. The gentle whispers of the waves. The foreboding depths that would stretch on and on, beyond sight. The terrible storms with their crashing rain and oppressive torrents. But she wasn’t here for that - to bask in fear. The Matriarch’s words struck her once more, turned over in her mind. One day, perhaps, she could take ownership of the sea. She was here to learn, to observe, to seek the answers for the quest set upon her. Thäna scooted back in her seat on the sand, tucking her feet beneath her. The waves had lapped a little too close and wet the hem of her skirt; it irritated her, and she picked at the sand now stuck to it with long, black claws that itched for action past observance. It was impossible to count the number of days Thäna sat there, in the same spot tucked just inside the cove, watching the waves’ rhythm with an anguish that ached for them to change their symphony. She could have chosen anywhere to watch; the forest, perhaps, with its ever-changing shadows and weird noises lurking just out of sight. There was a thrill in the forest. An adventure. Or the mountain tucked beyond the birch forest - the one she’d once clawed her way up. It had taken every ounce of strength and many rests, clinging to the mountainside. To fall would likely have meant death. There were birds, rabbits. Uninteresting and timid. It was all for the Search. Which brought her, more often than not, back to the cove, back to the water. Crimson expression twisted in disgust every time the salt spray hit her nostrils. Silver eyes mirrored the shimmering reflections the sun cast on the water; but where the view before Thäna seemed inherently peaceful, the Child’s own look bore one of lingering apprehension. Most days, there was nothing but the occasional bird - great herons swooping down, or eagles circling high above, mere black specks against the sky - or the floods of fish that would make tracks just beneath the surface, winding and swimming and bumping into each other. Sometimes, a deer or a fox would trot down from the forests. But they were skittish, and would dart or slink away the moment the Child realized they were there. There had been a dolphin, once, come to pay a visit. The creature was a welcome change to the mundane. Its form leapt and danced in a glistening, majestic glide, breaking the water and plunging seamlessly under the surface once more. Effortless. Thäna watched, observing intently; wondering if her cursed form could bear that same effortlessness. That same admirable amount of control. Standing, Thäna brushed long, inky locks of loose hair back from her face and tied it with a thin string at the nape of her neck. Silver gaze never wavered from its intense watch on the unassuming dolphin’s movements, not until it had turned and fully disappeared beneath the gentle, shimmering waves. The Child toed the sand, pushing the shells around with a shoe, then took a few steps back. Remaining well away from the water’s edge, Thäna jumped, attempting to mimic the dolphin’s graceful leap through the air. Awkward, clumsy, and bound by gravity, she landed poorly and stumbled. Again. She leapt again, with little other success. It was some time before Thäna paused, panting, sweaty and tired. Hands placed on her knees as she stared at the sand, feet half-buried and hair falling past her shoulders in tangled curtains. What good was jumping if that was all? Jumping would not help in a fight, except to confuse her enemy into thinking she was a fool, perhaps. Lips twisted down into a frown, clawed hands fiddled and clacked against one another with irritation. Slowly, she withdrew a dagger from its sheath carefully tucked away at her side. A small, delicate dagger, a gift from her aunt. The Child turned it over in her hands, watching the light’s reflective glimmer and contemplating its spectrum of destruction. She tossed it upwards - it twisted in the air and plunged right back into the sand. She plucked it from the earth and threw it. The dagger whistled, plopping to the ground just a few short feet away - the throw had been awkward, half-intentional, and scarcely carried the distance Thäna had desired. As she trotted across the sand to retrieve it, she wondered. To throw the dagger, to make it leap as the dolphin had, would fulfill that one goal - but in addition, it would leave her defenseless. She would be throwing out her defense. Turning to cast silver gaze back on the sea’s mirrored surface, she sought the dolphin for guidance, but it had long since vanished, leaving the young one to her own devices. But then what? She preferred too much to remain still and silent than to leap out with grand movements like the dolphin’s. Thäna flung her arms wide, gifted dagger falling from a clawed hand to plunge into the sand, and the Child’s arms dropped back to her sides as she slumped back to her seat. No, no, leaping and dancing in a fight would not do. So open and carefree. Thäna was far too cautious; her instincts to hide and her aunt’s teachings would never allow a style so exposed. The day was muddy, the sky clouded with thick rolls of dark cotton. There was no wind; the air was so thick and oppressive that even the sound of the Child’s breathing was swallowed whole and lost in the air. The water in the cove sat still and glassy with a formidable silence that threatened a storm. A black and red and grey form knifed across the beach, desperate to return to shelter before the first large drops could fall. Movement caught Thäna’s eye and she halted. Perhaps the rain would hold for a moment more. A thin, waving line streaked through the water, almost imperceptibly breaking its smooth surface. The movement darted towards a frog resting on a stone by the shoreline, not ten feet from where Thäna stood. Suddenly the silvery streak rent through the water disappeared and a dark, diamond head popped up to take its place, watching the frog. Thäna had seen it too; had earlier tried to mimic with her knife the way the amphibian’s tongue snapped out and caught a fly. Now she froze, breath caught and shallow in her throat as a stark silver gaze leveled on the water snake stalking the frog. Suddenly, it attacked, striking out with a swiftness that could scarcely be watched. Then it was gone, disappeared with its prey. The Child blinked, stiff with wonder - and then the first great drops of rain pattered from the angry heavens. She ran to escape them. Back within the safe walls of the Ranaleth home, the Cursed One paced. Shoes padded back and forth against the wooden floor, carrying her in a thin waving line across the room before she’d turn and retrace it. Stealthy, quiet as possible, practicing the Unseen. Clawed fingers scrubbed water from the twisted horns perched jauntily atop her head and squeezed clear rivulets from her hair, rivulets that would turn to crimson puddles when a strand broke. Silver eyes flashed and slitted with morbid frustration, intent in thought on finding the Answer. No - she would not find it. She’d make it. That was it.