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In ancient legend, it is said that all life was born from the sea. As beings of flesh and fur left for the land,the first mother; the goddess of the sea, mourned and called them back. Some of the original beings heeded, seal, otter, and their like returning to their birthplace. It was said, that the first human too heard the call, but only waded into the depths. Though they turned back for the earth, mankind still remembers. Thus, they are driven to the waves, driven to sail, even if it lacks purpose.

Thin frost formed on the bow of the great ship as the sun rose on the northern waters. Carried by violent winds, the pirate ship was thrown from their usual raiding lands around Caledonia to the cold waters of the far north. Though they turned their sails south, the placid seas offered no current or wind to carry them.

Day after day, their ship gained no ground; as idle as a painted ship upon a painted ocean. Men turned to prayer or superstition, offering scraps of their limited food supply to the waves in hopes to appease spirits of nature. Samuel, always watching from high on the crow's nest scowled at the action. If anything, the spirits had damned them. Their waste drew disgusting beings from the depths. And slimy things did crawl upon the slimy sea.

He spat at the creatures of rot, despising the wardens of nature and the animals they protected. Around the ship flew a pearly albatross, whose snowy wings the men did praise, offering clean water and bread with pleas for wind. Stomach grumbling, Samuel watched in seething anger as the little bird pecked at offerings on the southward bow.

Caught on the same winds, the glossy bird hovered around the ship with no other land to stand upon. Half-mad with hunger, he cursed the idolatrized bird, believing it to have stopped the winds; that its death would free them from the placid waves. Producing crossbow of flame-born iron, he shot the bolt of steel through feather and bone. With a stern look of pride, he shot and killed the albatross.

Shocked and furious, the crew climbed the mast and dragged Samuel down. They shouted and frothed for his blood, for his life, and for revenge. Yet strong wind cometh and did silence their cries, great wind carrying the ship with newfound speed. Though he had done a hellish thing, it did work them well. All turned their rage, blessing him and his bow which slew the cursed bird.

Quick as it came, great waves did rock the hollow ship, greater still washing its deck. Frigid froth took him by shock and dragged him into the briny deep. Cold piercing to his bones, he watched the ship sail off. For it was not the bird which stopped the winds, but he.

With all his breath, Samuel crested the waves, his ship but a dot on the blue. Floating for days on choppy waves, he floated across the fields of blue. Stomach rumbling and throat parched, he knew his fate doomed but stayed surfaced anyway, unwilling to die so easy. His limbs grew weary and his mouth dry, fighting against the current with the last of his strength. Water all around, but not a drop to drink.

Night fell, and ribbons of light danced in the sky inviting quiet and peace, which he mirrored. No fight left, cold waters covered his face and darkness followed.

Samuel awoke to cold white light. For but a brief moment, he laughed, thinking some mistake on gods part had allowed him entrance into heaven. Opening his mouth, stale brine spilled onto the stones beneath him, and all manner of earthly aches returned. Something small and loud barked beside him nudging the back of his head. Summoning the last of his strength, he weakly turned his head and spared a glance.

Perhaps by divine mercy, but likely to see him suffer further, the sea had carried him to a little pile of black stones. Hardly an island, the rocky shoal sustained only seals and birds. Beside him, a pup barked plaintively to him, a scavenger thinking him dead. Though he attempted to shoo the animal off, his weak muscles were insufficient to lift the studded leather he wore. With shallow breaths, he could only relent as the pup prodded his face, its flesh the only warmth he felt since reaching these cold waters.

Deep breaths did little to rekindle his strength. Waves crashing against nearby stones, flecking sea spray on his back, only shivering him. Hunger stabbing his guts, he prayed a seagull would wander close enough to bite, prayed he had kept the body of that albatross, prayed for any form of relief.

"Oh, be gone with thee," he managed, the tireless pup still barking beside him. Had he the strength, he would have skinned the annoyance there, would have slain every ugly thing in that dark ocean for just a crumb.

As the sun drifted on overhead, his anger sputtered out, but still leaving the trace ashes of contempt in their wake. Able now to raise his head, he could likely sit up, but weakness and despair weighed on him like an anvil. The little seal nestled against his flank, unaware of how he wanted to kill it.

Calmed and listless, he stared across the beach. No longer alone, the old beach served as a cradle. Harbor seals crawled onto the black rubble, nursing their young as winter ended. "That what you want?" he laughed, looking back to the little pup. "I may have killed your mother for all I know," he spat, the babe only barking plaintively again in response.

Though he wished to strike the animal, speech alone drained him. Vision darkened as though night crept before his eyes, his face burying in the rocks as he fell back to sleep.

Awaking once again to the pup's pathetic cries. Newer strength coursed through Samuel. He could raise his arms, sit, but still lacked the ability to stand. He placed a hand on the warm seal's back, soft for tickling his palm. Malevolence coursing through his blood like poison, the little creature barked in distress as his grip tightened around its skull. It would be easy to throttle the pup, its blood sating his thirst and meat his hunger.

Yet only his finger twitched, the finger that shot the bolt and downed the damned albatross. Starvation and hate no longer spurred him. He tried to kill the beast solely to prove to himself that the killer yet lived within him. But he could not will his fingers shut around the annoyance.

Hand falling to the side, the innocent lay back down to rest, forgetting the enmity it drew. Not a scrap filled his stomach, but no apatite reared. Looking down, it almost seemed a layer of fat inflated his flesh. A notion of feign and fancy, for it could be nothing more.

Tallest of waves lapping at his ankles, Samuel was reminded of a story he heard as a child. His mother would recount it as he drifted off, wrapped snuggly in warm blankets. She told of men who walked back into the sea. Who contacted the goddess there and were accepted back into her embrace. He always figured them nothing but superstition, legends of merfolk and blue men. Now he wished they had been true.

Though he expected his starvation to return, the cotton blanket of relief rudely pulled away. He found only greater health pouring into him through the water's cold touch. Madness had surely claimed his salted mind, for he saw his flesh softening and inflating.

The blubber added weight, pulling him back to the ground as his body rounded out. Warmth spread through him and he closed his eyes in comfort, slight itching flushing out over his skin as a thin coat of spotted grey fur covered him. Curiously, his arms gained none of his new mass formed around his arms, leaving the stubbed and helpless against his rounded form. Looking down baffled, his chin rubbed against rolls of fat, his entire body bulky and plump.

While the rolls of flesh appeased his need, the mass made any tension tiring. Leaning his head back, he was left only to wonder as his legs felt slow and liquid. The limbs clung to one another as what felt like resin attached them.

Fear twisted his stomach. He could fight men, sail turbulent waters, and slay beasts. Anything beyond him, he could flee from. But now his very flesh and blood turned against him, body warped so he could neither strike nor run. His pride shattered as he committed a grave, personal sin. Helpless and confused, he prayed for answers, for safety, for anything that any listener would spare.

Wriggling in discomfort, he felt the bones of his former legs cracking and churning. Through gritted teeth, he craned his neck again, given terrible answers as his toes stretched into flippers and his legs merged into a thick tail.

Recognizing the shape, he looked at the surrounding harbor seals in terror. Flopping like a dying fish, he moved without clear direction, just resisting in any way he could. The pup rose, and followed him, barking wordless requests and nuzzling his new tail. Voice no longer escaping properly, Samuel shouted at the pup. Flailing his impotent arms, he sought again to draw the animal's blood, sought angrily to kill anything before him, but was unable to summon the strength.

Flattening and stretching, his arms followed suit, claws growing from his twisting fingers as a set of flippers formed. The pup rubbed his stomach, gently nipping at his skin. Raising his chest, he turned to the babe, ready to hurt it the only way he could, crushing its small body beneath his newly gained weight. But a wave washed up the shore, white froth lapping around the pair.

The cold was no longer painful, the chilled waters now a comfortable temperature. Its wide eyes pleading, he lay down beside it, pity overcoming his anger. Sorcerous or not, the child was simply lonely, wanting only for its mother to return.

Teeth sharpening, he felt the waters wash by through his sensitive whiskers. His tongue grew first, forced from his smaller mouth before his jaw extended to match it. Flinching at the cold, the pup pressed close against him, his fluffy fur ill-suited for the water. He pulled the creature close, feeling its warmth sink through his skin as he indulged childlike affection for a cute animal.

Coarse grains of sand rubbed by in the water. The floating particles could wear down shards of glass into cloudy gems, but the slight sensation eased her nerves. Panic faded, and he forgot his ruminations on spirits, gods, and his former crew. It was easy to let his thoughts dull, to rest his mind an inch from sleep.

Jaw pulling into a muzzle, a new wave of scents graced his more sensitive nose. Barking in complaint, he winced as his skull shifted like melting tar, solidifying again into a rounder shape. The sound of his own voice reaching his earholes, his eyes snapped open as he realized what was coming.

Already, his old memories seemed dull and unimportant. As another wave washed against him, he closed his eyes and clung to his vision of his former self. He expected a harsh, cold strike against the images. But the molding waves offered no such attack, offering only a warmth and comfort if he were willing to accept it.

Though the gentle touch surprised him, Samuel stole himself against the tricks. Demanding to retain his self. He was human! He had always been so, and he would not let go so easily!

Rather than fight him, a quiet voice asked him why. Years cold, hungry, and an inch from death on that crew, and for what? He just needed to look at his form, human memories unsuited for the body of a seal. Finally, it reminded him of the death brought about by his own hands, this life on him like a cross. His thoughts subtly dulled by the ceaseless lapping waves, he found himself questioning it himself.

All things great and small, they were created by the world who loveth all. Taking his focus, he felt his genitals pulled deep within him, warmth flooding her as it reformed into feminine organs. The heat concentrated on four points along her stomach. Budding from her smooth flesh, then poked into little bumps that dripped a creamy liquid. By the time her attention turned from the new pleasurable sensations, much of herself had departed.

She felt new instincts pushing aside previous notions of importance. Lamenting over half-remembered sins, she saw no longer a need to cling to some ancient mariner, letting the sea embrace her and cleanse her conscious.

Like sand pulled back out to sea, she could almost watch the old images carried away by the warm waters. Thoughts slowed and simplified, primal instincts taking the seat of importance.

A grey ship with tattered sails passed beside the island, but she cared little. Gazing lovingly at the little pup upon her, felt a newfound connection and importance in the benign child. Its nose twitched, and it stirred, hungrily latching to her nipple and nursing. She sighed contentedly, maternal instincts filled her simple mind, satisfied to simply be a mother.