Celian's body tensed, and Madi could see his face twisting as he fought against turning. A swift wave climbed up onto the shore in front of them, and gently pressed against Celian's toes. He relaxed and continued.
"It wasn't the neighbor's dog, Madi. I saved the maid, in the form of the dog."
"You?" Madi gasped. "But—"
"You see," he explained, "when I first arrived here, I saw a family on the beach, and there was one girl more curious than the rest. I saw that she was kind and adventurous, and I wanted to follow her, to know more about her, but how could I, when I couldn't leave the water?"
The tide was coming in now, the waves lapping closer, but Celian didn't seem to care about wet trousers. He went on. "A little while later, I saw a little black dog swimming in the water. One might drive away a gull, or harm a piece of grass, but would they be kind to another person's pet? I took the dog's form, and later that day, I came out to find the house that the girl lived in. The dog," here he began struggling again, his skin paling to the shade of his Leonie scales. Madi grasped his hand tightly with both her own. Finally, with a deep breath, Celian could continue. "The dog had been to the house a few times already, and the maid had been kind to him, but he had always responded with diffidence. I found, though, that encouraging the maid's attentions to me as a dog would prolong my presence at the house, long enough to at last see the girl. She grew into a beautiful young woman, but I remained the same dog, longing after her, but never able to communicate with her on a level she understood." He sighed and hung his head. "And, after what just happened, I fear I may never have the chance. I am doomed to see her as an animal, or not at all."
It was just the sort of fairy tale Madi loved, the one she saw repeated over and over in the story book her mother had given her. She leaned closer, resting her head against his shoulder.
"There must be something we can do!" She cried.
"Oh, there you two are!"
The voice sent Celian scrambling to his feet, so quickly he almost dove headfirst into the water. Madi kept a hold on his left hand as the two of them turned to face Agatha Dalton herself, coming down the beach toward them. She carried a large wicker basket on her arm.
She smiled warmly at Madi. "Your father said I might find you here, Madeline." She looked up at the tall man beside the young girl. "And is this your friend?"
Madeline felt Celian's grip tighten, but he stood firm, as if the water sloshing around his feet kept him from exploding.
"Yes," she said, carefully watching the erstwhile man out of the corner of her eye. "Miss Agatha, this is—"
"Celian." He thrust out his right hand, staring not at her face but at her delicate gloves.
Agatha took his abruptness for nerves, and responded graciously, slipping her hand into his and giving a gentle press. "Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Celian," she said. "I confess, I've been very curious about you ever since I first saw you heading to the beach with Madi."
Celian blinked. "You have?" He rumbled.
Agatha set down the basket, opened the top, and pulled out a long blanket. "Yes," she said. "And dear Madeline was so excited for me to meet you yesterday," she spread the blanket on the sand, well above the tide line, "that for things to happen the way they did—" here she faltered, kneeling on the edge of the blanket, fiddling with her gloves. "I can't help feeling that I might have been to blame, somehow. And I wanted to apologize," she said, before either of the stunned pair could protest, "and, well," she gestured to the basket, "would you care to join me for a picnic lunch?"
Celian watched her bring out the food, spreading it neatly. She took out three plates, setting two on the other side of the blanket and one in front of her. At a nod from Madi, the tall man sat upon the blanket, careful, she noticed, to keep his bare feet in contact with the wet sand. They dined on bread, cheese, cold cuts, and apples.
"So tell me, Celian," Agatha began, "where are you from? I feel like I've seen you before, but I cannot recall."
"I am from..." She could not know the struggle he underwent to find the words. "I come from a long distance, an impossible one."
Agatha smiled. "Impossible, you say? But this is the twentieth century! Surely we've developed the ability to reach every corner in the globe."
Madi just about choked on a morsel of bread, but she covered her mouth as the grin unfolded. Celian glanced toward her, their shared psyche giving him an inkling as to what might be going through her head: All corners except under the ocean.
Agatha was still chatting merrily away. "Oh, let me guess! Your accent, it almost sounds American. You must have come from there, have you?"
Celian shrugged, a smile of a shared joke now playing on his lips. "Something like that," he admitted vaguely.
"And to think that we ended up in the same town!" Agatha smiled. "All right, next question: who are your parents?"
This was a new term for him. He knew, from Madi, that the word meant father and mother, but outside of her memories, he had no context of his own for the concept. "I don't—" he began stammering, eliciting a wide-eyed stare of sympathy from Agatha.
"Oh, forgive me," she said quickly. "You must be an orphan."
Another new term! This one was wholly unfamiliar, but when Celian glanced at Madi, she gave the briefest of nods.
"Yes, I am," Celian replied.
Agatha sipped her water demurely. "An
