Dead Blue Sea
“There’s some sort of irony,” I grumble, “in being sensitive to sunlight but also having to be outside during the day. Every damn day.”
She shrugs. “Do you want me to go tell the sharks to stop being nocturnal and hunt during the day?”
I snicker. “Aw, could you? Because then the fishermen could do their thing at night. And we could all avoid the sun like good, self-respecting, UV-sensitive witches.”
She chuckles darkly. “Ag, if only! But this is what we signed up for.”
I flick some sea water her way, and she squeals in mock-shock. “I signed up for this?”
Her smile falters. “Well, your mother did. But you’re still out here.”
Not that I really have any choice in the matter. It’s what’s best for the village, and there’s no denying that. I’m the best remaining water witch—if I suddenly stopped, we all knew that fishermen would lose their lives, food would become scarce in my village, and my own sense of self-preservation would be to blame.
Stuck between a shark and a wet place, I guess.