Marketa’s faithlessness made the house too small. I found myself walking outdoors, down the grassy slopes to the shore, where an empty beach awaited moonrise. I breathed in the salt of the air, pushing thoughts of my fiance out of my mind to escape the pain. She wounded me, with no repentence. How-?

Splashing footsteps rounded the dune, where the hissing wind had first hidden the sound. Instinctively, I backed away, not wanting to be seen. Who else would be out this late? The answer skipped into view with gliding leaps and twirls, sending spray into the sky. Her braid whipped about with each turn until she stopped, silent and motionless, to stare at the moon. I did not recognize her from the town, perhaps a servant?

She raised her hands upward, breathing a song, swaying with the waves. Dextrous fingers loosed the braid and she shook out her long hair. I should have left then, but I was mesmerized by her freedom.

A twig snapped. She spun to face me, wild animal-eyes glowing, and I could only stare back.