WHERE ARE YOUR MONUMENTS, YOUR BATTLES, MARTYRS?
WHERE IS YOUR TRIBAL MEMORY? SIRS, IN THAT GREY VAULT.
THE SEA, THE SEA HAS LOCKED THEM UP. THE SEA IS HISTORY.
WHERE IS YOUR TRIBAL MEMORY? SIRS, IN THAT GREY VAULT.
THE SEA, THE SEA HAS LOCKED THEM UP. THE SEA IS HISTORY.
Yes it is. And who are you?
For some reason, the question surprises Boudika. Perhaps it is because in this form thoughts of self are distant and slightly more abstract; it is more about the constant propulsion of water across the gills, the plethora of sensationally cues from the water. The foreign electro-sensory system of a shark, detecting even the faintest of electrical field; the muscle contractions of prey; pressure changes; the coming and goings of storms. Her world, in many ways, was expanded exponentially and—
Already, she is distracted.
Boudika steels herself. With a thoughtless flick of her tail, her shape transforms: she sheds her shark skin in favour for that of her kelpie-self. In the water, Boudika ascends so she and Lucinda are at a more level height. The woman is dark, and scarred, and one that Boudika has never seen before.
“I am Boudika,” she answers plainly. “And you?”
Despite her calm exterior, Boudika feels—a strange excitement. She has not seen another kelpie since Amaroq transformed her, or she encountered Anandi on the cliffside in the storm. And both of them had been familiar. They had been known. This woman is a stranger, and yet—her mere presence seems to fill a void in Boudika, and answers the call of her loneliness.
It is difficult for her to drop her barriers, however, or depart from weariness. After all, they are both predators, in the same sea. And friendship does not come easily between those of similar nature’s.
