The Scottish Selkie
“She couldn't sniff the soft, pastoral scent of lavender petals sprinkled over the floor of her chamber. She didn’t know her eyes were shut or realize she was unable to open them. Bethoc was unconscious. Drifting in a wound fever dream, she stood on a white, vapory cloud gazing at Drostan as he walked toward her on one side and her father on the other. They stepped one by one on lithe swirls of vapory fluff and floss to reach her. Drostan held out his arms, and in a loud jovial voice he greete...d her, “Bethoc you have come to me. We shall be wed as promised.” Her father's brown eyes widened as he gazed at her. “Do not listen to him, Bethoc. It is not your time. Leave this place so you may live a long life and be free.” Bethoc's sire tenderly took her hand in his. “Follow your heart, daughter mine.” With those words, she floated up, up, up, high above her father and Drostan. Weightless, she drifted through the azure sky until she landed on a moon-toned bridge of feathery, abstract shaped columns.MoreLess
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