Bea' s Boredom

It mattered to Bea that she wasn’t discovered until it was too late to turn back. She laughed at the thought, secure in the knowledge there was nothing a human could do to harm her. She sat back in the rear of the hold and munched an apple absentmindedly, trying to figure out why she wanted to remain hidden.

She had waited a week, and today waited until night fell. A millennium of staying out of sight unless she wanted to be seen had made her adept at avoiding people. People rarely paid attention anyway. She drank a little water and ate a few apples to keep her strength up. She didn’t really need to, but she did anyway. It helped to pass the time. A few people strayed into the hold at intervals, but they were easy enough to avoid, every single one of them putting her movement down to a trick of the light.

As the light coming through the porthole dimmed, Bea’s ears pricked up. She listened carefully for any sounds of movement that might suggest someone was en route to her location. She was patient, not at all agitated as she waited for her moment. When it arrived she moved swiftly, as assuredly as if she’d built the ship herself. She pulled the glass of the porthole, dived out of it, and placed it back in one smooth movement. An onlooker would have merely seen a shadow appear to move through the glass, she was that quick.

In a moment she was in the water, swimming just behind the ship in the warmth of its wash. This was nothing like swimming in the chilly waters of the English Channel. this was freedom, exuberant, exhilarating. She dived deep as she transformed into a magnificent wyvern, her iridescent scales turning from gold to red to vivid purple as she moved, although only the fish of the deep could see her. The flesh between her long, slender talons webbed as she swam and purpose evolved filters covered her eyes and nose, protecting her better than an entire submarine would.

As night fell further and fewer lights broke the darkness, she rose from the deep, broke the surface, and ascended rapidly into the sky. The sleepy deckhand thought it was a rogue swell and went to grab a rag to mop up. Bea chuckled, a sound like a bell struck by a distant thunderbolt.

Higher and higher she rose, still not wanting to be seen. Another purpose evolved ability showed itself. Wyverns need to breathe, but she could get by on the thin air of the upper atmosphere without missing a beat. She stayed just above the clouds, out of view of the ship below, but kept it always in her sight.

She cast her eye upwards and exulted in the glow of the moon and the twinkle of the stars, while taking care not to cast a shadow over The Wanderlust.

Speaking of wonders, Cathasaigh was going to have to show her a few of the ones he’d mouthed off about.

Cathasaigh.

He’d made her pronounce it properly when he’d introduced himself.

Cah-a-see.

His mother had named him that because he spent the first few hours of his life after crying his little lungs out staring at her. And because she was Irish. It meant watchful.

He’d been keen to tell that story, and she wasn’t sure whether he meant to impress her or warn her. She didn’t care either way. She was going to the land where it was always warm, where skin tones varied from the hue of the setting sun to the dark of night.

That would come in the morning. Now she needed to rest. She started a cautious descent. All the lights in the ship were out. She came to her porthole, opened it just as easily as she had before, and slipped into her little alcove.

Someone cleared his throat in the darkness.