In the wake of the vessel leaving port, and in so doing leaving everything Fayd had ever known behind, he swore he saw something.

It was as if a smooth, diminutive hand reached up from the foam and waved farewell to the vessel. Since he was the only one who saw it, he would confirm that very night and be ridiculed for it, he liked to think it was waving at him.

Throughout his time at sea aboard The Orion Forestay he would think of the hand and it’s meaning. Within a few months, his rumination on the event would shift from mermaids and fae to the more symbolic.

His mind had clearly cooked up the image to cope with leaving his life behind. Fayd was not an unintelligent man. He’d learned English quickly and well enough to have impressed the crew, which was no small feat. When the people around you have seen the Aurora, their standard for wow is fairly high.

But still, in his private moments, when the work was done and the break of the waves was gentle, he scanned the dark surface for hands waving him on or beckoning him home.

He never did see another. But he didn’t mind much. No, not very much at all.