"Wh--" Greta blinks, thrown by the question -- and by the way the girl's grip tightens, as if she's worried someone is going to snatch her away. It's a horrible sort of relief, if only because it gives Greta something to focus on besides her own presumed, incipient misery. She reaches up to stroke her hair automatically, her own tears slowing.

She wants to pull back so she can look at Saoirse properly, but she can't imagine letting her go just yet. She settles back onto her heels, pulling the girl into her lap. "I... I thought you'd just... go to the sea and--and stay there. Like all the stories." A sort of bewildered defensiveness slips into her tone. "That's what always happens, when--when a selkie gets their coat back."