By Emie M. Little
Moira’s breath fogged the viewing window, her wide eyes staring unblinking, as though in the split second they closed, Isla would disappear once again.
She’d been searching for her sister for months, ever since the night she failed to return to their pod. A missing selkie typically meant only one thing. She’d been determined to find Isla and whatever scum had stolen her pelt as soon as possible.
She’d searched what felt like every inch of the Isle of Mull, her pod’s go-to location when they wanted to spend time in their human forms. When the local castles, caves, and towns showed no sign of her kin, Moira knew that for the first time, she would have to venture to the Scottish mainland. She knew every step into unfamiliar territory endangered her and her pelt, but she couldn’t leave her sister to that fate.
With her sealskin in a bag clutched tight to her chest, Moira had ventured into Oban. After hours of wandering, she’d caught an alluring scent, similar to home. The smell of saltwater and sea life led to the Scottish Sea Life Sanctuary.
Now, Moira placed a hand against the glass that separated her from her kin, and Isla bumped her nose against the other side. Thankfully, Isla still possessed her pelt—though—“What happened to you?” She breathed in horror as her eyes traced the deep, but healing gashes.
“A boat propeller, if you can believe it,” answered an unfamiliar voice.
Moira jerked back. Isla barked loudly and waddled away from the wall as quickly as her pinniped body could manage. The voice belonged to a young man with a white coat. Moira’s iron-clad grip on her bag tightened even further.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I’m Ian, one of the center’s vets. Shortbread here”—he nodded at Isla—“got tangled in a discarded fishing net and couldn’t escape a motorboat. Luckily, the skipper called the British Divers Marine Life Rescue. Now, while she’s recovering, Shortbread is here to serve as one of our conservation ambassadors!”
He pointed out the signage all around the enclosure which warned against dumping fishing gear or driving boats recklessly.
Moira focused on the important part of that sentence. “And what about after she’s recovered?”
The stranger brightened. “Shortbread is part of our rehabilitation program. We take injured wildlife, get them medical help. Then, once they can survive in the wild, we release them. It’s my favorite part of my job.”
The man began to babble about the program, but all she could focus on was “once they can survive in the wild.” She eyed the deep gashes on her sister’s pelt, and the way she winced when water washed against the wounds. The man was right; Isla wouldn’t survive in their home.
Despite her every instinct screaming to take her sister away from these men and this nearly empty pool and false nature, Moira left her in the sanctuary.
She returned day after day, sitting with her slowly recovering sister until she started to believe everything the man said. They spread salve onto the wounds and stuffed her meals with the colorful, pebble-like capsules that humans used to heal. When asked, Ian patiently explained the purpose of each one. As Isla’s wounds recovered, Ian filled the water in her once-shallow pool and led her through exercise routines.
Ian also showed Moira news articles and movie clips of people releasing recovered seals into the wild. He talked through the process thoroughly. She joined a trip to set a pair of previously injured seabirds free. She watched them fly into the distance until they disappeared, imagining the day her sister would do the same in the waves. When she looked back, Ian was watching her rather than the birds.
Every moment that Moira spent with Ian, she watched him, too. She knew it was odd for a girl to be so invested in a random seal. She knew that there had to be moments where Isla showed she was more than an animal. But Ian seemed genuinely oblivious. His kindness was not what her people expected of humans. But he cared for Isla, up to the day that he announced that the release date had been set.
Moira showed up to her sister’s release point in seal form.
She hovered in the ocean near the beach, but the time of the release came and went. No Isla.
Terrified that Ian had lied, she swam to the beach’s pebbly shore to see him in what looked like an argument with the others. He constantly looked behind him to the city, as though searching for something.
Could he be waiting for me?
Moira rushed to change into her human form and ran to the beach, shaking out her wet hair.
The look of relief on Ian’s face sent an unfamiliar sensation flowing through her. It was like a school of fish was somehow pooling in her stomach.
The release began, and Isla disappeared into the ocean moments after Moira’s arrival on the beach.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Ian asked. “Watching them go home is my favorite sight in the world.”
“Thank you.” He had no clue how much Moira was thanking him for.
“You’re always welcome back at the center,” he added, his eyes hopeful.
Moira joined her the second she was able. Soon, two seals were barking happily to each other amidst the dark Atlantic Ocean waves.
Isla shed her skin when they were safely back on Mull Island, where they called home. The siblings rested in the shadow of the Caraig arches as Isla bemoaned her experience, yet was grateful to be free.
She vowed never to set foot in Oban again.
Moira made a commiserating noise and stared back in the direction of the mainland. She thought of Ian’s kind eyes and endless patience. She couldn’t say it to her sister, but she thought she would be going back to the mainland herself very soon.
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