Insofar as the village told it, Selkie washed up on shore. Like a lost shell, a treasure drug out from the deep. Baby Selkie was a wave-soaked furball that spent most of their time squinting at the people fussing over them and trying their best to eat anything that fit into their tiny mouth. So all in all, just like any child, ignoring the way which they arrived.

They called them "Selkie" after the old legends of seal-people. The selkie folk hadn't been seen in years and years, so long they aged into myths, but surely this odd bug-like child would be one of theirs. Selkie's natural disposition towards water only strengthened this notion.

Selkie grew up not spoiled, but at least a little pampered. As the only child of the village, it was their right. Easily held and taught by the craftsmen, fussed over by every grandmother, and running through seaspray whenever their many guardians looked away. As a child should, wild and unfettered, Selkie spent every day loved.

When they came of age, or as of age as the village poeple could tell, limbs growing longer and gait not so lanky, Selkie helped the fishermen with their catches. They dove easily into choppy waves, chasing fish towards nets, only one mouthful of salty air buoying them. At some point, their black-furred body grew fabric, morphing them into blues and whites and fish patterns to blend into the habitat.

The head fisherman took down aged, polished whalebone. The carver worked its edges into something sleek and sharp. The weaver spun bright red fabric for tassels. The smith forged delicate bells.

And the village's beloved child received a spear touched by every hand that raised them, crowning them not only cherished but worthy.

In the feywild, time outside passes faster. When Selkie returned, they came back to empty houses, long since abandoned by the dead. They stood on the shore, for the first time alone.

Selkie walked up the worn path to the fisherman's house, where they opened creaking windows to air out dusty rooms. They collected anything moth-eaten, anything unraveling, anything rotting, burying it all in loose soil. For a long while, Selkie sat in a chair facing the sea, feeling the wind against their new mask coming through the open window.

They breathed in ocean air and breathed out grief.