CHAPTER FOUR
as the sun rises

                           𖦹 ⋆｡˚⋆ฺ ⋆｡˚⋆ฺ˚⋆˚ 𖦹

  THE SKY IS PAINTED IN POMPEIIAN splendour, a volcanic eruption of scarlet and terracotta scorching the raggedy mountainscape that surrounds them. Sea thrift peeks out from the cracks in the rocks, the scruffy pink petals withering under the iron fist of the brutally cold weather. Guillemots cry from their perches on the cliff face, casting sharp eagle eyes around the beach and ruffling their ebony feathers at any disruption. The air is pungent with the stench of salt from the lapping waves as they crash to shore. A chill sparks in the air, frost creeping across the land and compacting the sand tightly. The water is glacial, though Cove can hardly feel it through the thick blubber her human flesh is akin to.

  The worst of the storm has passed them by and everything feels stagnant, the cerulean sea calmly stroking against the shore in a lulling voice that hums against Cove's ears. A sense of comfort washes over her when she notices that the Blue Men are nowhere to be seen, though her gut churns with overwhelming anxiety when she realises the selkie absence as well. Her only reassurance is the thought of her colony's safe house in one of the many hidden caves in St Kilda, her mind thrumming with the idea that they're safe and sound, far away from the shores of Lewis.

  "Are you not frozen? The water must be terribly cold."

Regulus is eyeing the sheep up on the cliffs with caution as Cove wades further into the sea foam, up to her shins in saltwater as she cradles a crab she found in the nearby rock pools. She find it funny just how sceptical he is of the unfamiliar countryside surrounding him, wary of the flocking gulls above his head and the breeze as it brushes on by. His eyes are foggy with distraction as he calls out to her from across the beach, thoughtlessly making conversation.

  Cove hums distantly. "I've got thick skin."

  He laughs. It wasn't a joke.

"You know, I never learned how to swim," he remarks wistfully, watching as the water crawls further towards his freshly scourgified Oxfords. He pulls his knees up to his chest.

Cove turns her head to face him, an eyebrow crooked in question. "Really?"

He shrugs. "I grew up in central London. It's not exactly coastal."

   "I can't imagine a life without swimming," she thinks aloud. The crab scuttles over her palm and she moves her free hand beneath to catch it as it falls, shifting the little crustacean between her hands as if it were no more than water cupped in her grasp. Slipping through her fingers, seeking out the tender affection in her touch. "I've been swimming ever since I could walk."

   He scrutinises her with interest. "Well, maybe you could teach me?" Regulus hazards slowly, wary of her reaction. When he hears it spoken aloud, he suddenly fears that it's a childish question and his cheeks begin to heat up from the mortification.

   On the other hand, Cove freezes. Her shoulders tense up, her breath sticking to her ribs until she's asphyxiating under the weight of her nerves.

  Regulus doesn't know the truth about her. He's blind to the rows of vaguely pointy teeth behind her lips, unaware that her senses are animalistic and heightened. He doesn't know about the pull to the sea she feels inside, nor the sealskin stuffed in a shoebox at the bottom of her wardrobe. With the newfound information concerning his... unfortunate stance in the rapidly worsening conflict, she isn't sure if their friendship could withstand the truth — and, considering that her life hangs in the balance here, Cove wants to sustain his ignorance for as long as she possibly can.

  She sucks in a breath. "It's far too cold the now. Maybe another time, Reg," she replies carefully. It's a Herculean effort to prevent her voice from trembling. "Chin up, though. You're not missing out on too much. Try again this summer, yeah?"

   Cove crouches down to gently submerge the crab into the water, wetting the ends of her hair until they fan out around her like a halo. She's too afraid to turn and face him, lest he notice the blossoming anxiety on her features.

   "Alright," Regulus says, elbows digging into the sand beneath him. "I'm not in any hurry, I suppose. I've got years to figure swimming out."

  She beams. "Aye, that's the spirit!"

Cove begins to trudge towards the shore, the hem of her skirt sodden as it trails along the lapping surface. The sea ripples around her with motherly affection, calming as she glides through the slowing waves. She tugs down the sleeves of a coat that she's recently taken hostage, a tatty old one that her dad sometimes wears whenever he's working out by the salmon farms. Cove still incessantly berates him on the cruelty of fish farms, but it seems that Aaron has selective hearing when it comes to her arguments.

"Thick skin or not, it's still December. You'll catch your death at this rate," Regulus worries.

She smiles knowingly. "Believe me, there's no need to worry. I'll be perfectly fine."

Regulus gives her a look of disbelief, his concern scrawled all over his face despite his lips remaining firmly sealed. Cove collapses onto the sand next to him, the cold ground sending shivers down her spine. She peers up at the greying skies and admires the stories told by the cloudscape, suddenly tugging on his sleeve to get his attention.

"That one looks a bit like a satyr."

  He follows her line of sight until his eyes snag on a puffy cloud drifting above them. Regulus has the starry eyed ghost of a smile upon his lips, eyebrows creased in wonder.

"What about that one?"

She hums in contemplation. "That one's more like a teapot. Oh, or maybe a frightened unicorn, if you look at it from the side."

He side eyes her. "What makes it frightened?"

Cove elbows him sharply in the ribs, snickering when he shoves her gently and tries to roll out of her reach. "Imagination, you neek," she answers smartly. "C'mon, you give it a go. What does... that one look like?"

Regulus follows her pointed finger again and squints up at the sky, scrutinising the cloud he's presented with much too intensely. He narrows his eyes in deep thought, the genre of expression you'd only ever see him sporting during his final exams. A deep breath shuttles through his nose as he finally comes to a conclusion.

"Graphorn with severe spattergroit," he says very seriously.

Cove bursts out laughing. "You can't just make it up!"

"I'm using my imagination, Henderson," he mocks. His voice takes on an airy tone and a horrifically botched Scottish accent. "Oh, or maybe it's like a dog, if you look at it upside down."

Cove scowls at his impression. "I don't sound like that."

He grins. "Whatever helps you sleep at night."

  She rolls her eyes. "English people," she mutters scornfully.

  "What was that?"

  Cove blinks innocently. "Oh, nothing."

  They sit and stare up at the passing skies, allowing their imaginations to meet no bounds, running free within the broad confines of their minds so that overhanging problems are extinguished by childlike fascination. A phoenix, a cat, a grindylow. They sit and stare until their eyes are sore from the dim morning light, fixations on certain shapes providing stories that roll from their tongues as though choreographed. A dragon, a fox, a bumblebee. Cove feels the laughter in her bones, her ribs aching from the essence of that treasured moment.

  Regulus suddenly checks his wristwatch, a frown crumbling the clarity he had once worn on his face. Without any warning, he begins to get to his feet, eyes fixed firmly on the ticking hands of his watch, his stare going dull.

  She squints up at him in confusion, an abrupt burst of sunlight from above blurring her vision. It doesn't take him long to come up with a half-baked explanation.

"Well, as nice as this is, I should leave before your parents notice I'm here," he announces, brushing the sand from his tailored trousers.

   She frowns. "What? And go where?"
 
   "Home, I suppose," he replies. He scoffs a humourless laugh. "Where else?"

   "Are you even hearing yourself? It's too dangerous," Cove argues. "What happens when they start asking you questions? What're they going to do when they find out you were staying with a half-blood? You'll get yourself killed."

   He scoffs, defences thrown up in a flash. "Don't act like you know me inside out after a few months. I think I know how to hold my own."

  "It's not safe with your family," she presses. "If that was supposed to be your initiation, what do you think the real deal is gonnae be like? Stop walking away from me!"

  He won't turn to face her. "Oh, please. You don't understand the gravity of what you're talking about. Going back to them is better than endangering you by staying here." He exhales heavily, his small voice almost lost to the wind. "I know what I'm doing, Cove."

  "Regulus!"

  He continues toward the rock pools.

   "Oh my days, will you just stop and listen?"

  He simply patches her, walking further down the beach. "Thank you for having me. I'll see you in January." Hopefully. It's left unspoken, yet hangs between them like a bad omen.

   "Regulus Black, don't you dare move one more muscle—"

   The whirring noise of disapparition howls over the noises of the beach, the air stilling as he departs. Cove sighs miserably, burying her face in her hands and cursing Regulus Black for being such a stubborn idiot.

  She cries out in frustration. "Faigh e deas suas fhèin," she curses to the empty beach, hurtling a chipped stone at the smattering of sand he had vanished from. With annoyance tugging at her conscience, she steps out of her shoes and begins sauntering toward the ocean.

   She desperately needs to go for a swim.

author's note!

i wrote most of this when i was in history pls dont crucify me if there are mistakes 🫡