A Bone in His Teeth

by Kellen Graves

‘take that bone from your teeth; good things come to those who wait.’

“The sea feasts most enthusiastically on the land’s most unwanted offerings,” he said. As if quoting an old poet. Alba gazed at him in quiet intrigue, before laughing weakly again. “Never swallowed me up, though, no matter how many times I fell in. Always spit me right back out to be fished with the rest of the day’s catch.” “You must have had someone on land who would have grieved a little too loudly. The sea can always tell.”

“You will be made my caller of the shore,” the humming, growling voice spoke between their mouths, making Alba’s heart race. “My bride of the salted air, my brine witch. I will be your caller of the sea—your bride of the shore and soil, your mud witch.”

“You also thought about killin’ me.” “I did. But not anymore.” “You care for me enough to not want to kill me?” “Yes. So I suggest you stop arguing before I change my mind.”

“God—Neptune save me, I will gut any man who ever lays a hand on what’s mine.”

“There’s enough salt in the sea,” he whispered. “Don’t add to it with tears, Albatross.”