The afternoon sun flirted with the forest and gray clouds, dancing behind the tallest trees, then shimmering with the wind through the sparkling leaves and needles. Here’s a fine moment to get me a drink. Mick poured water from his canteen into Danny’s cup, then rummaged inside his wooden chest at the rear of the wagon for a fresh bottle of whiskey.

“Such a sweet one you are,” lilted a husky, tender voice. “And where did you come from?”

Mick spun around, hunting for that mesmerizing sound.

The sultry voice murmured, “Such mournful eyes you have. You’ve melted my heart, haven’t you?”

From behind the wagon’s bed, Mick scurried around its side toward the horses and the wagon seat.

A petite, curvy, woman wrapped in shawls and a scarf stood beside Danny, stroking his ears.

The dog’s eyes were closed with her caresses. As me own would be. Mick took two steps toward the beauty, when he caught a movement in his side vision, and stopped. 

An older version of the beauty hurried to the younger. “Shauna, what are you ’bout? Where are your wits? Never be touching a strange dog. I can smell him.” She kept her distance with her scrutiny glued on Danny. “Come away at once.”

“I wonder who he belongs to, Mother. He’s friendly and well-fed. Not a wild dog at all, if that’s what you’re thinking. He must belong to the owner of this wagon.” Shauna turned as her mother tugged on her arm, and caught sight of Mick, frozen next to the horses. “You, there. Are you this dog’s owner?” Large, dark-fringed pools of liquid brown doe eyes twinkled at him from beneath moist raven tendrils trapped against her forehead. Her unblemished skin was milky white.

A selkie. The legend is flesh and blood. Mick grew light-headed and dizzy until he remembered to breathe. He blinked, while Shauna approached him and stood five feet away, waiting for his answer. He yanked off his cap, then shook his head. Dirty hair. He stuffed his cap back on. Then he yanked it off. Heat rose to his face. 

She grinned at his discomfort, then giggled. 

He whispered, “God almighty, a sweet angel face with the sound of heaven coming from those rosy lips.”

“Shauna Eileen McGann, mind your manners.” Her mother lifted her chin and sniffed the air, impaling Mick with her stare. “Who are you, sir? What business are you on? For we are a small community, and we recognize strangers.” She said it with a definite warning tone. Like when Mother scolded us for misbehaving, and he hadn’t done a thing… yet.

McGann. McGann’s wife? Mick cleared his throat. He tried to speak, but his voice squeaked. He tried again, without luck.