Page 38 of Saved By the Selkie

Johan, however, has other ideas. He grabs the pup by the tail, ignoring the pup’s startled yelp and my warning bark. He stumbles under the pup’s weight, but manages to sling him over his shoulder, staggering a little.

“All right,” he says, glowering at me, “you’ll follow along nice and quiet now, won’t you?”

I bark at him, and the pup yips unhappily, flailing his little flippers. I bark again, and I have half a mind to bite Johan’s ankles until he bleeds, until he drops my pup and we can escape into the sea.

Johan lifts his jacket and puts his hand on the butt of the gun. “Hm?” He lifts his brows. “Your little baby will make a nice hat if you don’t behave.”

I growl at him, but there’s nothing else I can do. He hefts the pup again, then turns and starts walking.

The entire landscape has shifted dramatically. I have no idea which direction we came from, nor which direction we’re going. I don’t see any seals, though, which suggests we’re headed away from the herd, further onto the ice.

We travel for miles, Johan in the lead, my pup hanging over his shoulder, looking at me with his big, baleful eyes. I whine and whimper to no avail. Johan is a heartless master. He even ignores the pup’s squirming.

Finally, the pup starts wailing, and Johan flings him down on the ice. “Little brat,” he growls, lifting a hand to his bleeding cheek—the pup got him with his claws.

I glide by him, eagerly scooping up my pup in my flippers. He’s so cold. He has to be so hungry. I nuzzle him, then roll onto my side so he can nurse.

I glower at Johan, daring him to challenge me. If I don’t feed the pup, he’ll starve. And Johan wants his two selkies, I’m sure.

Johan glares at me, then huffs. “This is ridiculous,” he mutters, but he looks away, scouting the horizon.

He grabs Aramis by the arm. “C’mon. Let’s go see if we can scrounge up something to eat.” He twists back to me. “Don’t even think about slipping off, or your true love gets a bullet between the eyes.”

I glare at him defiantly until he turns around again, shaking Aramis as he drags him away. I deflate then, giving in to despair.

We have to figure out how to get away from him.

twenty-two

Aramis

W

e have to get away from Johan. Somehow. I wish I could contribute something more insightful than that, but my brain feels like mush. Maybe it’s the cold. Maybe it’s the lack of food.

But I’m sure Lir knows we need a plan. Heck, even the babyprobably knows that.

Maybe that’s why I feel like my brain is broken. I’m still trying to process the fact that Lir was pregnant, that he literally gave birth while we were huddled in a snow cave. Like it was nothing at all.

I don’t know much about birth, but I’d thought it was a bit more of a production than that.

Then again, Lir’s a selkie, and the baby looks like a seal pup, all dark eyes and soft, white fur. Acts like a seal pup too, not that I know much about seals.

But I do know this: Lir looks haggard and the pup looks thin, and if we don’t get away from Johan soon, it’s going to be the worse for them.

I debate trying to bean Johan over the head and make a break for it while we’re out hunting. I hope Lir has the good sense to take the pup and go. Maybe the two of them can get away.

Unfortunately, Johan doesn’t seem to want to venture far in search of food. Lir is always visible, a dark point on the ice we keep returning to.

Finally, Johan gives an exasperated sigh. He hauls the pup off Lir, grabbing the little thing by the tail and throwing it over his shoulder. The pup yelps, and Lir snarls and barks. Johan kicks at him. “Quit your yapping!” he orders. “The sooner we get back to the boat, the sooner you can have your pup back.”

Lir snarls again but bows his head and obeys.

We march across the ice until the sun sets. It doesn’t take long, of course; the polar days are short and getting shorter. I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s soon night for months on end here.

We make camp, Johan using the last of the blubber to light the fire. Then he drives Lir into a hole in the ice, yelling at him to go hunt.

I’m left sitting with the pup, who seems mostly concerned about where Lir went. It isn’t long after Lir disappears that the whining and whimpering begins.