Wanderlust (Olkhon Island | Baikal Lake, Siberia)

[Thalia]

The water was quiet by the time she reached it. Her bag was still heavy with the supplies she’d bought on the mainland, and she dumped it at her feet as she sat on the grassy slope facing the small bay. Curiosity parted for frustration as she picked through the sketches at the front of her book, like there might be answers she’d missed amongst the tentacles and scales. What if it really did mean nothing? She stared at the creature’s face a long time, doubt seeping around her edges and tugging her down with the burden of its weight. The coiling touch of despair was like dry kindling igniting against all the troubles she’d left behind in Moscow. How many times in the past had she teetered on the edge of that panic, unsure if she could trust her own thoughts and intuitions?

The only person she’d ever met who was like her was Patricus, and the chasm between the two of them was as large as the ocean -- larger, even, for the way he’d both carefully and formally set her aside. He remembered dreaming, though. Knew what he was. 

And he was gone.

Thalia stared out at the horizon, thoughts spilling in every direction and none. She didn’t pick through the emotions, but they were filling her to bursting. She ran her hands over her face (winced reflexively) and heaved a sigh that might have easily turned into a strangled sob. Movement caught her eye then, one of the island’s stray dogs some distance away, head low as it curiously sniffed in her direction.

“I don’t have anything to give you,” she said quietly. “Unless you want some company?”

It cautiously wagged its tail at the softness in her voice, floppy ears perked, but did not come closer. After a moment it loped back up into the forest.

Trying not to feel hurt, Thalia turned her gaze back out to the landscape from her drawing. Resolve tightened in her chest as she stuffed the sketchbook back into her bag. Inertia flooded her to despair, the uncertainty of whether she was waiting or simply wasting time. She frowned, chewed her lip, and then turned to tuck her belongings away from obvious view -- though there was no one around now. Traditionally women weren’t allowed near the rock looming from the clear water. Various archaic superstitions surrounded why, though she had no reason to think any of it was real.

The waters were cool when she waded in. The afternoon sun had begun to dip to evening shadows, streaking the sky pink, but Thalia wasn’t thinking about time. Aylin’s careful suggestion of mania hooked belligerence in her chest, and her heart was a rebel she had no intention of taming. She dove deep into freedom.