I’m copy/pasting this from pages and I have no idea what the formatting’s gonna do so bear with me. Here goes:

        Part I

‘From the sea she came, and t’ the sea she shall return.’

That was what they’d always said about the wife of Gawan Thorburn, though he never believed them until he saw it with his own eyes. 

She had always been a mystery. No one knew her true name, but she came to be called Mara Àlainn by her own request. One day, as he was walking along the shores of Westness, or so the story went, Gawan Thorburn came upon a girl, sitting by the water’s edge. She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever laid eyes on, with long, wavy, pitch-dark hair that always smelled of salt water, moon-pale skin, and ice blue eyes so light they could almost be white. She wore only a seal-skin dress that wrapped round her slim figure, and her feet were bare. They took to each other immediately, and day after day Gawan returned to the same place, and day after day she was there, waiting for him, always in the same seal-skin dress. It wasn’t long before they fell in love. Gawan begged the girl time and time again to marry him and return with him to his home, but, though the girl loved him just as much as he loved her, she insisted each time that she could not leave the sea, for the sea was her home. But it tore her apart inside, piece by piece, and so finally she agreed and they were wed. 

The townspeople were suspicious and somewhat frightened of this strange girl from the sea, and so Mara Àlainn never made any friends besides her husband. She was a funny thing, that Mara Àlainn. She was never happy, it seemed, though Gawan pampered her and tried to please her in every way possible. She wanted to be content, for him, but alas, she could not change her nature. She kept her seal skins, though she didn’t wear them anymore. She would disappear for days at a time, sometimes a week or more, and she always wore her seal skins then. She never told anyone where she went, but Gawan always knew anyway. One night, Gawan found the seal skins and hid them away somewhere. Mara knew of this, and she even gave Gawan permission to do it, agreeing with him that it would be best if she moved on from such things. But things only grew worse from there, and Mara began to grow depressed and draw away from the world. In time, they bore a child. A healthy, pretty thing, she was. And exactly a month after her birth, Mara disappeared. 

And she did not return.

———————————————————————————————————————

It was the wee hours, the darkness of the morning just before the first hints of light appear, when all is frozen still and silent out of time. A small, lone figure flew silently through the dark streets, concealed by a cloak of murky seawater green. The figure was seen by none but a lone owl as it darted between the shadows, up the road that led to the sea. Soon the figure reached the shore, by which a large ship was docked. It rose up proud and magnificent in the inky dark, its masts standing tall with the sails drawn in like folded wings. From the prow jutted a graceful figurehead in the shape of a dragon’s face. The figure, small compared to the large vessel, stood still beside the hull. A gust of wind made the cloak flutter gently as the figure’s face was wetted by tiny droplets of sea spray off the small waves that brushed the dock. The ship’s ramp was not lowered, but the anchor rope hung down at the side, which would do. Softly, easily, the figure shambled up the rope and dropped down onto the deck of the ship. Wasting no time, it padded across to the other end of the ship and descended a set of steps that led to the lower deck. The figure groped its way down a long dark passageway and entered a room on its left. The room was illuminated slightly by the moonlight that glowed through the porthole, but still it was nigh impossible to see. The figure crossed to the corner of the room, scooting behind a few barrels, and settled down with its back to the walls. And the figure waited.

Leeli, this is beautiful. I love the perspective used, and how there is little showing in the first half, only telling. I feel like that kind of a writing style is being stamped out, and it's really a shame, because so long as you uphold what you said when you show, then it's really beautiful. I know a lot of people will slam on it now, but I like it. So it could be seen as a positive or a negative.

I love selkies and the Welsh/Scottish vibe that comes off in your writing, I think due to the naming. The second part I like less, but I think that's mostly due to I'm not sure what's going on. I'm assuming that there's more to it which you haven't posted yet? 

My biggest advice would be to downsize on the words used, because even though the words are very lovely, and create a beautiful image (I love how the colors come across, e.g, murky seawater green, and inky dark) it's a pretty big block of text to understand what's going on. 

I hope that this was helpful! 

Fia was wakened at dawn by the soft sunlight that filtered through the porthole. She blinked, frowning at her surroundings for a moment before she remembered the previous night. She stifled a groan as she felt her aching muscles. Sleeping in the same scrunched position on a hard wooden floor for the remainder of the night had certainly not been ideal. She longed to stretch her stiff limbs, but she didn’t dare move much for fear of being discovered.

She could hear footsteps and muted noises from above her head, so she knew she was not alone on board the ship. By the way the room seemed to be rocking steadily, she assumed they’d already left port. She wondered how far out they’d made it yet.

She shifted her position slightly, and her legs thanked her for it. Suddenly, she felt a swell of pride. Ha, she thought. I’ve done it. I’ve successfully stowed away on a ship! The feeling was followed by a small twinge of apprehension, however. Now that she thought about it, the whole thing had been rather rash. She didn’t even know where they were going. She’d never left Westness in her life. 

But she’d felt so sure of herself—so sure that she should go, even though it didn’t make much sense. And she wasn’t going back on that just yet.

Suddenly, she heard creaking, and then the door clicking open. She froze, not daring even to breathe. All she could see from where she sat was the ceiling and a bit of a wall. There was a soft, pleasant humming as footsteps drew nearer. Her heart began to pound against her rib cage. Dinnae look behind the barrels, dinnae look behind the barrels. 

The humming paused, and a voice said, “Ah, whaddaya know, they’re right there. O’ course, hidin’ right in front o’ me nose.” 

The footsteps crossed the room, coming towards her. 

Nononono.

She saw a flash of dark hair, and then a freckled face hovering right above her hiding place. But the pale blue eyes didn’t even give her a glance, and the head retreated. By some miracle, he hadn’t seen her. Oh, thank goodness—

“Oy!” The face appeared once again, this time staring straight at her.

Blast it.

“What’re ye doin’!?” 

“Shh!” Fia hissed. “Not sa loud, someone’ll hear ye.”

The boy—whom she realized could only be a year or two older than herself—stared at her, dark eyebrows high on his forehead. He looked so shocked and confused it was almost comical. He stumbled for words. “Y-yer a stowaway! Wait’ll the cap’n hears about this!”

“No!” She stood, involuntarily putting a hand out in front of her. Between each of her spread fingers was a thin webbing where her skin stretched between them, an abnormality she’d been born with. The boy noticed and his eyes widened, but he refrained from any further comment. Fia ignored him. “Dinnae tell anyone ye saw me, please. I’ll be no trouble, I swear it. Ye won’t even know I’m here. Just—please, dinnae tell anyone.”

The boy bit his lip and frowned, looking conflicted. He began to fidget with his hands. 

“Cap’n won’t like it none if he finds oot I been keepin’ things froom ‘im, ‘specially somethin’ like this.”

“He doesnae hafta find oot. He won’t,” Fia assured him. “Please.” 

He gave a strangled sigh. “Well...alright. I won’t tell anyone just yet. But ye cannae be doin’ anything stupid, and ye hafta stay here.”

Fia exhaled a breath of relief and nodded. “Aye.”

The boy, his eyes still on her skeptically, opened one of the barrels and retrieved two bottles from inside, which Fia assumed were what he’d originally come for. He turned to leave, and just before he opened the door, Fia said suddenly,

“Uh—thank ye.”

He turned and looked at her. She could tell by his eyes that he still didn’t know what to make of her. Saying nothing, he turned and left.

As the day went on, Fia grew restless. Not even an hour had passed before she could no longer stand to sit curled up in the corner, and finally gave in and pushed her way out from behind the barrels. She paced the length of the room (which by now she’d figured out was a storeroom), back and forth, back and forth. When she grew tired of it, she sat on a stack of crates in front of the porthole and watched the sea for hours. She’d seen it her entire life, and of course been in the water. But her father had been a bit strange when it came to the sea, and he didn’t like for her to visit it too often, for reasons he’d never shared. Besides that, she’d never been out on the open ocean. It was her dream—it always had been—to be out on the high seas, so far out that there isn’t a piece of land in sight. Only water and sky, as far as the eye can see. She’d never had the chance before. Until yesterday.

And though she would’ve liked it better if she wasn’t cooped up in a storeroom, it was even more thrilling than she imagined, and far worth the trouble.

Oo. You have piqued my interest. 

The next morning she woke early again, and the first thing she noticed was an awful hunger gnawing at her stomach. It was only just then that she realized she hadn’t eaten for over a day. She hadn’t exactly taken into account how she was going to feed herself. 

She assumed that since it was a storeroom, at least some of the barrels would contain food. But she refused to entertain the thought, for she certainly couldn’t steal. At least not unless her situation was dire.

The hunger even worse when the crew began to eat, and she could hear them above her, enjoying the meal—and she could smell it, too. She groaned more than once as the aroma of stew and potatoes reached her nose, making her stomach growl and roar in protest.

A few hours later, while she was sitting on her pile of crates, she heard floorboards creaking outside the storeroom. With a start, she leapt from her perch, scrambling for her hiding place. The door clicked open before she was halfway there, and she whipped her head around to gaze at her discoverer in horror.

She breathed a sigh of relief when she realized it was just the boy.

“Oy, dinnae scare me like that!” She hissed.

“Sorry,” he replied. “But what’re ye doin’ oot here? Ye should be hidin’. What if I’d been somebody else? Mightn’t ‘ave been so lucky then, if they’d seen ye.”

“Well, ye cannae expect me to sit back there all day, all folded up like a plaid in a sock drawer!”

He sighed. “I suppose...but if ye get caught, it’s yer own fault. Here.”

He stepped closer and held out an apple. It was fat and shiny and red as a rose, and her mouth watered at the thought of something to eat. Yet she shook her head.

“I cannae take that.”

He frowned. “Ye hafta eat. Dinnae tell me yer not hungry, after not havin’ eaten in a day or more.”

“I dinnae need yer apple. I told ye I’d be no trouble.” Her stomach growled traitorously.

He gave her a look. “It’s not trouble. Ye hafta eat.” 

Sighing, she took it reluctantly. “Fine. But I dinnae want ye stealin’ any more food on my behalf.”

“Nay, I didnae steal it. I saved it from me own portion.”

“Oh,” she said stupidly, feeling a little guilty. 

The boy looked uncomfortable. He cleared his throat. “Uh, ye never told me yer name.”

“Oh. It’s Fia. Ye never told me yers, either.”

“Thaxton.” He shifted, looking nervously over his shoulder. “I’d better go.”

“Alright.”

He left, and she was alone in the room once again. She took a large bite of the apple, letting the juice dribble down her chin and savoring the sweet flesh. It was gone too quickly, the core tossed into the corner, where grateful mice would find it later.

Thaxton sang to himself under his breath as he swept the galley after the crew’s breakfast the next morning. He was the one who usually got stuck with the job—and most jobs of that sort. He didn’t mind it much, though. It gave him time alone to think.

At the moment he was thinking about Fia—the strange girl with the webbed hands. He had so many questions about her. Who was she? Where did she come from? Why was she here? But the biggest question, the one that weighed the most heavily on his mind, was what should I do about it? 

Guilt and uncertainty had been nagging away at him for days, ever since he’d found her in the storeroom. He didn’t know what to do, and it was tearing him apart. On the one hand, she was a stowaway. She wasn’t supposed to be on the ship, and Thaxton felt it was his duty to his captain to tell him. But...she wasn’t causing any trouble, and she’d seemed so desperate when she’d begged him not to tell anyone. He pitied her, and now he found himself wanting to help her. And he certainly couldn’t go back on his promise not to reveal her, not now. That was certain. But the guilt still gnawed at him as he wondered whether or not he was doing the right thing.

There was something else, too. Something about the girl that was strange, yet with a certain familiarity. An image of her rose in Thaxton’s mind. The round, lightly freckled face, the wavy rose-gold hair, the serious ice blue eyes. It was those eyes—the thoughtful, solemn depths, that reminded him of something.  He couldn’t place what it was.

When he had finished cleaning the galley, Thaxton left, an oatcake clasped in his left hand, which he had saved from his portion of breakfast. He padded down the corridor, rounded a corner, and started down another passage, the one that led to the storeroom. He was so lost in thought that he didn’t see the Captain coming towards him, and he nearly bumped into the man. Just before he would have, he stopped short and looked up at the Captain, startled. 

Captain Ewan McGullen was not a tall man, but what he lacked vertically he made up for horizontally. He was thick in every sense of the word. Hardly a bit of it was fat, however. He was well-muscled, broad in chest and shoulders, and square of stature and jaw. His lower jaw stuck out a smidge farther than his upper jaw, giving him a slight underbite, and his eyebrows protruded from his forehead so that they cast shadows over his eyes when he stood in the right light, making them look mysterious and grim. Aside from that, the eyes were hard and dull and about a half-inch too far apart. The man had always reminded Thaxton of a bulldog, in personality just as much as appearance. He was far tougher in his mind than he was in reality, and he looked fiercer than he actually was.

Ewan grunted, scrunching his face into a frown. “And where are ye headed off to sa quick?”

“Uh—nowhere,” Thaxton stuttered. Then, realizing how suspicious that sounded, he amended, “Er, that is, the stores. Sir.” 

Ewan narrowed his gaze, eyeing the oatcake Thaxton still held in his hand. “Mm. Might I ask what you be plannin’ on doin’ in the stores with an oatcake?”

“Oh—um.” The boy stumbled to think of a convincing explaination. “Well, ye see, there are...there are these rats. They’ve infested the storeroom, and I’ve been tryin’ ta get rid of ‘em, so I thought I’d use this as...bait. Yeah. It’s bait.”

Ewan raised an eyebrow. “Rats, is it? Well then, why dinnae I jest be helpin’ ye a bit wif ‘em? Show me where dey are, I’ll take care of ‘em real quick.” He grinned, revealing stubby brownish teeth.

“Oh, no, I dinnae think that’s a good idea.”

Ewan’s grin dissolved into a frown.

“See,” continued Thaxton quickly. “The rats are...they’re...mutant. They’re very big and very dangerous, carry lots o’ nasty diseases. Diseases that’ll...make yer limbs fall off. I heard a story once ‘bout another ship ‘twas infested, and they say you dinnae even have to touch ‘em to get the sickness. A man who was standin’ a foot away from one of ‘em had his arm fall off in under a minute.”

Ewan’s face remained expressionless, giving Thaxton no clue as to whether or not his tale was working. “I think I ought to see these rats.”

“No, you cannae—“ Thaxton cut himself off as the Captain turned and began walking toward the storeroom. Sighing, he followed. Just before Ewan opened the door, Thaxton stopped him. 

“Wait! I’ll go first. In case.” Before Ewan could answer, he pushed in front of the man and opened the door.

This way at least I can warn her, if she isn’t hidden already, he thought. He scanned the room for the girl and at first saw no sign of her, but then he noticed the small figure he hadn’t seen before, pressed against the wall, holding very still and silent. He met her eyes and made the slightest motion with his head. Taking the hint, she swiftly crossed the room and ducked behind the barrels in the corner. 

“Go on!” Demanded Ewan, giving Thaxton a small shove. He stepped inside the room, the Captain after him.

“Well, I dinnae see nothin’!” 

“They’re hidin’, probly.”

Ewan gave him a look, and Thaxton wasn’t sure what to make of it. Then the Captain thumped across the room, making a beeline for the barrels. 

“No, ye shouldn’t look for ‘em! They’re real territorial!” Thaxton warned. Ewan didn’t seem to hear as he peered behind the barrels. Thaxton’s heart pounded against his ribcage as he looked on in horror. He watched as Ewan’s face changed from skeptical to confused to shocked.

“Oy! What’s this? A wee lassie hidin’ on me own ship?”

He reached down and pulled Fia to her feet by the collar of her dress.

Ah, she got caught! *hops around anxiously*

So, Fia is Mara's daughter, yes? Also, I love how you do their accents.  

Mm, the ending of the last installment was a little awkward, as it wasn’t originally meant to be split there. It would’ve been quite long if I’d kept it one piece though...anyway, I present the next bit, the end of part one, and a rather evil cliffhanger. >:)

————

She wrenched out of his grip, her face hard and serious. Then her eyes flicked to Thaxton, and in them there was a deep pain and a look of betrayal that wrenched his heart. The look lasted only a moment, but in that moment her eyes seemed to bore into his very soul. Then she looked away.

“Hmm. T’would seem we ‘ave ourselves a stowaway,” announced Ewan. He grabbed Fia’s wrist and pulled her out from behind the barrels. 

She glared at him. “What’re ye gonna do with me?”

He studied her. “I dinnae know yet. It remains t’ be seen. Thaxton, take ‘er to me chambers. I’ll be with yens after I attend t’ some business.”

Thaxton crossed the room and took the girl by the wrist, not meeting her eyes. He led her out of the storeroom, and as soon as they were in the passageway, she wrenched away from him.

“Dinnae touch me,” She snapped. A beat. Then, “Ye dirty traitor! I trusted ye! Ye promised me ye wouldn’t tell anyone aboot me, and ye led yer Captain right to me!”

Thaxton whirled on her. “Now ye hold it right there! I’m no traitor, I never breathed a word o’ ye t’ anybody! I tried t’ keep the Captain away from ye, but he insisted on goin’ in there! I helped ye as much as I could, I protected ye, and now I’m likely t’ get in trouble fer it. So ye ought to be thankin’ me!”

Fia looked away. She said nothing more as she followed Thaxton to the Captain’s quarters. 

It was a small room, sparsely furnished, consisting of only a large, dark wooden table with an assortment of maps spread across its glossy surface, several rather mismatched chairs, and a long window at one end of the room, out of which the crashing waves were visible.

The two sat on opposite sides of the table in silence, unable to think of anything to say. Fia rested her right hand in front of her on the table, flexing and curling her webbed fingers slowly, absently. After a few minutes, she caught Thaxton staring fixedly at the hand, studying the webbing. She dropped her hand abruptly, and it landed with a soft thump in her lap. He glanced away quickly, looking guilty.

After a few more minutes, Ewan entered the room, followed by two crewmen. The first was tall, grim and burly, with grizzled red-brown hair and beard. He appeared to be a little older than the Captain, and had a wizened face and a weary look to his squinty hazel eyes. 

The second was obviously younger, tall and lanky, with fallow hair (part of which fell limply into one eye, and that he continued to brush away) and sharp blue eyes. He had a slightly crooked nose, dark eyebrows, and a certain harshness to all his features. In his eyes and in the near-smirk that hinted around his mouth, there was a look of cruel mischievousness. Fia immediately decided she did not like him.

Ewan walked around the table and took a seat at the head. The first man sat down beside him, and the second remained standing.

“Macauley, Lennox,” Ewan addressed the men. “I’m sure ye be wonderin’ why ye’ve been summoned. Ye see, I found this here lass a’hidin’ in the stores, and I’ve t’ figure oot what t’ do with ‘er.”

“We dinnae ‘ave the room or rations for another body on this ship,” said the younger man, quickly.

“Aye, and I must say I agree with ye, Lennox,” began the other man, who must have been Macauley. “And yet, we cannae simply throw the girl overboard and leave ‘er t’ drown.”

Lennox cocked an eyebrow. “Cannae we?”

Fia glowered. “Do I get any say in my fate?” 

Before any of the men could answer, a great tremor racked the ship. Fia grabbed hold of the edge of the table for support, though she nearly toppled over anyway. She opened her mouth to say something, but before she could, the ship lurched again and the whole room turned sideways and sent them all tumbling to the ground. Disoriented, Fia felt herself roll across the floor and then slam into a wall, hard. She heard the table and chairs slide a few feet, and then the room righted itself again. With a grimace, she pushed herself to her feet. The ship jolted again, but this time was smaller, and everyone kept their balance. Her eyes wide with shock and fear, she looked over at Thaxton.

“What the blazes is going on?!”

There was a sharp crack, and two steady streams of water began to pour into the room from two cracks in the wall.

Thaxton shook his head, his face fearful. “I dinnae want to know.” 

Led by the Captain, the men all began to run from the room. Fia followed them onto the main deck. It was chaos; crewmen running and shouting, wind whipping the sails, salty spray washing over the decks. A man ran up to them, breathless, his dark hair wet and mussed. 

“Captain! There ye are. Thank the dear Lord, we’ve been lookin’ everywhere fer ye!”

“Brodric! What’s goin’ on?” 

Wide eyed, Brodric pointed at the sea. “It’s a monster, sir.”

For a moment, they all stared at the water just beyond the ship, but they could make out nothing. Then, in a looming wave just before them, Fia made out a huge dark shape, holding very still. Then, slowly, it rose out of the water, stretching up and up, towering over the ship. Fia’s jaw dropped. It was the largest thing she had ever seen, apart from the earth and the sea itself; and quite a ways larger than the ship. Its body was thick and sinewy, and it had an abundance of fins and crests and hornlike protrudences. Its eyes were dark and large and seemed almost to glow. It was covered in dark, near black scales that shimmered with green and blue and silver iridescence in the light. It was almost majestic, in a fierce, terrifying way. It held very still and silent, staring at them with the awful dark eyes, the water running off the smooth scales in small torrents.

Fia involuntarily moved a step closer to Thaxton. “What...is...that?” She breathed.

In a voice barely above a whisper, he replied, “Cirein-Croin.”