She lost track of time for the next few weeks...or was it months, perhaps? Her negative thoughts and emotions spiraled into wider and wider circles inside her, like a mental whirlpool sucking her in and drowning her.

Other than the youngest, Dylan, the children no longer came near her, which she didn't blame them for.

Dylan himself seemed like he only came to her because he couldn't help himself, randomly bursting into the room she was in to clutch at her, and then running back out before she could do more than touch the top of his head.

Mila still left water and food for her and peeked into the room to check on her, but she didn't try to interact with her or come near her if she could help it. Calder was usually with her, though he would just wait and watch at the door, looking unsure about whether he would be allowed any nearer.

She wished she had the energy to talk to them, to soothe them, to tell Calder he could come closer if he wanted to, that she wasn't angry with him anymore, that she hadn't actually been angry at him when she'd almost attacked him...

But what would be the point? Get their hopes up to only dash them again the next time the topic came up?

She had honestly thought that, even with the very mild attention she had been giving them recently, they wouldn't get that attached to her. After all, their father did take care of them rather affectionately and attentively (even if he was utterly detestable in her eyes). But perhaps consistent familiarity was all young human children needed to get attached...

She still kept her bargain with the land fey, however. Even if dragging herself up to get the honeyed water felt like she was walking through a thick swamp. But, for whatever it was worth, she did not want the protection the land fey could offer the children to disappear. And she couldn't ask Mila to give it instead of her, just in case that caused the bargain to break or change.

On the land fey's part, they seemed to be coming by much more often than before. But the selkie did not know whether that was true, or if it just felt that way because the days just bled into each other for her.

She also found it very, very irritating, because the land fey kept trying to convince her to get up and step outside, or to at least converse with them for a few minutes. She usually responded by snapping at them to leave her be, handing over the honey-water and waving them away, drained and crumbling into bed after just that little bit of effort.

She would also randomly glance up outside the window these days, and see the land fey there, talking or playing with the children. But even that would take too much out of her and she would lay back down, sometimes spacing out or sometimes falling asleep. For hours and hours...

She would have stopped eating and drinking too, because she had no appetite and no thirst. But knowing that it was Mila who brought her the food and water, despite being wary and mistrusting of her now, made her choke it down somehow.

Then, one afternoon, after an indeterminable amount of time had passed, Mila came up to her.

"Why can't you stay with us?" she asked in her soft voice, a voice that had grown a little more out of its childish pitch.

How long had it been?

It took a minute for the selkie to find her voice. "Because I want to go home," she rasped out.

"...Can't this be your new home? Can't we be your new home?" Mila asked, a tiny plea slipping into her tone.

Tears seeped from the selkie's eyes, silently and without permission, which obviously alarmed Mila. But she had no energy to care.

"No," she answered, "I miss the sea...I miss my family...I was stolen, Mila...This will never  be my home..."

Her voice choked with tears at this point and she turned away to bury her face and weep.

She didn't know whether she had cried the whole time or whether she had cried herself to sleep. But when she opened her eyes next, it was dark, and Mila was gone.

Exhausted, she closed her eyes and dropped back to sleep.