Waterbound

Kyle had, in moons past, lingered long in the shadows of Blackfin Cove, watching the witch boy leap from rock to board to wave to air. Wings wide, spread out against sky and sun, surfing seafoam and salt-breeze alike… it had stoked a yearning in his chest, a fragile fluttering wish that lurked, day after day, whispering tales of gust and cloud down his spine.But such a thing was not to be. No matter what song his soul ached to sing, he had not been made for wind. He had been made for reefcaves and rivers, for currents and Kindred, for fathoms deep and wide beneath an arching dome of velvet night.He had been made for water and blood.