Saoirse gasps and looks up. She's still a seal, a flash of white among brown and gray. All of the selkies near her are a pale gray, near to white but not the snowy brightness that her pelt has. There are plain seals by them, too, enjoying the company of their fellows.

She's not afraid, not exactly. But they're not letting her leave. It makes her feel a little nervous. They're stealing her, making her break her promise to her mum. She's as much mad as she is anything else. But there are too many of them and not enough of her.

She looks up when she hears Daine. She doesn't know how to answer consciously, has never had that practice, but maybe Daine can hear and feel her answer anyway.