The mist curled around my ankles, sending a shiver up my spine from the damp in the air. This was the best part of the day, walking the path to the river while the sun rose into the sky.

Father would be waiting for me on the boat, waiting for his breakfast and his forgotten coat, ready to tell me about the nights catch. As I walked I could practically smell him, the scent of his tobacco filled pipe, and the fish on his sweater.

One step after the other, breakfast and a sweater, I inched closer, the docks coming into view and the boats treaded water.

The sounds of the men shouting back and forth, loading supplies and unload on the catch of the night. I could taste the fish on my tongue and my mouth watered, excited for dinner.

Then, there he was. His forest green cap covering silver hair, his back bent as his hands gripped and pulled a rope. I was surprised to see that the net was still full, weighed down with their catch.

And then it tumbled forward, onto the dock. Fish cascades all around but it didn’t draw my eye. What drew my air was white hair, longer than my arm, covering a body that was half human, and half something else.