Maeve came in shadow, to the crest of stone that crouched over the sea, watched hours under skies buttressed by pinnacle and soaring tree. Alone, she walked along the sand, treading rills like white lace laid upon a bridal bower, fanned with soft salt wind, while music played: Sea caves moaned like whales, a dirge, and welling tides uprising brought the symbol crash of ocean surge, a song to sting a heart unsought. No wedding chant to speed her heart, nor lover’s air to heat her blood, no suitor’s serenade to start within her tug of tide and flood. And so she walked at close of day the path that winded down to shore, and sometimes saw off, far away strange folk remarked in ancient lore. Liquid eyes and liquid grace sleek and black amidst the waves, cavorting free, apart a race oft glimpsed within the flooded caves. To most, they wore a beast’s visage, whiskered snout and sleek-furred pelt, shy and strange, an ancient bridge to antique age when marvels dwelt in kingdoms aired or undersea, now seldom seen in modern age, a remnant of lost history, when earth was lit by song and mage. As Maeve stood, a sound rose, somber: songs of distance and desire filled the air, swelled ever stronger a Wild Hunt flung ever higher. The night sky spun, the sound grew wild like wail of wind and boom of storm, a reckless chase beneath the piled waves, as voice gave sorrow form. Whales slipped by like shadows racing; shattered sea to skim the argent sky, and by them, sleek shapes pacing, matching speed and beauty, ardent, yearning to embrace the night. As Maeve watched, one fell behind, sleek, reflecting silver light, as luminous as seagems mined beneath the nightjade surging sea. Maeve watched unseen, for she had planned against such opportunity to compel from sea to land a denizen of caverns shining gold and white with walls of pearl, who, seduced by lovers’ pining, was transformed by tears amidst wave’s curl. Salt to salt , with care Maeve spent seven tears among the reeds, calculated, no torrent of feelings let nor sorrow freed. Cool the drops that fell as bidden colder she who bid them spill, and in her heart, like a worm hidden, chill resolve to mete her will. The creature screamed, a rending sound; lay panting in the shallow race, as if washed ashore, half-drowned; fair of form and, fairer, face. A heap lay by her, blackest skin and she lay naked in the foam; a threnody torn from within she crooned, of loss of self and home. Maeve knelt by her, took her hand, kissed the tears that stained her cheeks led her from the surf to land to rest beneath the moonwashed peaks. She rocked the girl to calm her fears; filled her arms with wild roses, stroked her face and dried her tears, showed her how the breeze exposes sweet the scented sage and brake, clasped her close and named her Roane, smoothed her tears to soothe her ache, but still the girl did weep and moan. Soft the flesh as white as milk; Maeve laid Roane down and touched her skin, smoothed hair like midnight spun to silk, kissed her lips and softly stroked within. Beneath the hush of circling sky did earth and sea together come, sank together with a sigh, and rode the tide till blood did hum. Tossed high, the tumult took them, pounding, they tumbled, wild, in the rough, sweet sting of salt, the waves surrounding, drowning, then, spent, ‘neath the bluff. Maeve fed her wine and berries crushed with herbs; they curled in shadows deep; she stroked the silken skin rose-flushed, and kissed sweet, stained lips soft with sleep. Oh cold heart! to cruelly lure the girl, close eyes with kisses three-- Maeve gathered up the crumpled fur and, silent, slipped into the sea.