When life's raging red river takes another sharp and wild turn, landing her back where she began -- except not where she began -- she recognizes yet again that she has just herself.
No, not "just" herself.
She has all of herself.
Which for her is an entire cast of characters unto themselves.
One of which has cold feet...always, one of which wants burning coals to race across just to glean some warmth, one of which wants boots for walking (cause that's just what they'll do) and in an inverse Hans Christian Andersen twist, another one who will surely turn it all in for a mermaid tail someday soon.
But she will keep her voice.
It is no longer a commodity.
No magician, no sea witch, and no prince-in-distress will take that from her.
The only blood dripping on her feet so that she may break the spell and return to her home under the sea will not be from slaying the foolish, misguided, and naïve young royal but rather from her own temple Queendom. An endless source of magic.
From sea to sky on her own terms now.
Between worlds, CA
