Fall in love in a weekwe get by

“Extreme disapproval,” Dougal explained. “You reek of fear and hopelessness.” And… a lie, perhaps. Disapproval washed over me too,” he snorted almost in the same way as Kels, shaking off the water. – For company, or what? Yes, yes, don’t bother, I understand. People are stupid creatures anyway, but some are especially stupid. And he does not want to waste his endless time on such people. The curse didn't impress him.

– What can possibly impress a magical creature that lives for several thousand years? It is clear that human troubles for him are the same as for us the suffering of some insects. – I could hardly hold back my tears. I hate Charlotte's body! Why is it so prone to hysterics?

“He thinks my time has not come yet.” And if, contrary to his wishes, I still bring myself to the grave, he will curse my family for many generations to come. He will certainly produce something global and impressive, in contrast to this love-struck human nonsense. And he doesn’t care at all about the fact that my lineage will end with me. If you haven't realized by now, Miss Sullivan, Kelce loves to talk. How can it, of course. I suspect that my ancestors were too talkative, otherwise they would not have been able to attract his attention.

The lake blurred before my eyes. I wiped away my tears with the edge of my poncho.

“Why is that, Dougal?” Why? There is so much around. New. Interesting. ? we… we… Is there really nothing we can do?!

– He thinks differently. Calm down, don’t give him reasons for condemnation and gloating.

The kelpie reared up exactly in the center of the lake, thundered with its hooves, again sending out a huge, angry, tsunami-like wave. This time I wasn't scared at all. Either I felt that they really didn’t want us to harm, or… it didn’t matter? Whoever is destined to die from a curse will not drown?

The wave rose like a cloudy transparent wall. It looks like a thick layer of bad glass, interspersed with debris and air bubbles. In the depths of this wave a silvery fish swam, and on the other side a washed-out rocky shore could be seen. She stood before our eyes, as if wondering whether to devour us or not, and disappeared. Kels wasn't there either. The smooth surface of the water no longer seemed scary or magical. The most ordinary lake.

And suddenly Dougal… laughed. No, he laughed. Completely indecent, excitedly, with some kind of moaning or grunting. I did not expect this so much that I wriggled out of the weakened embrace, turned around and stared at him, trying to understand what had happened. What could possibly be funny in our situation?!

“He said…” Dougal paused, grunted again, and shook his head. – Damn horse. – He snorted and explained almost calmly, only occasionally breaking into something resembling a strangled laugh. “Kels told me to tell you.” From the translated… When you stop smelling and looking like an uh… hopelessly in love mermaid during the first molt – nothing more precise comes to mind – he will come back and, so be it, take a ride, because you can come out good and …probably even decent for bipedal foals.

“Thank you,” I muttered. – Molting mermaid, how… fresh. And… yes, visibly. Clearly.

“And I would like to know how this half-stud guessed about the hopelessly in love? Did you smell it? – the thought made me feel… uncomfortable, perhaps. The embodiment of ancient magic… What else can he guess? The question is incorrect. Is it possible, in principle, to hide something from him, or is this creature’s awareness limited only by his own curiosity?

– It was obvious to me. You are lucky, believe me. He shows me all this in colors. In pictures.

– But you laughed. – Then another thought struck me, strange, impossible… probably too impossible. – If you can laugh at this… if you can laugh at all! So, everything is not completely hopeless?

Dougal grew serious and narrowed his eyes. He was silent. He looked at me with some kind of investigative interest.

“I am not a supporter of baseless illusions, Miss Sullivan.” And I hate guessing and predicting. So I'm not going to get your hopes up. But I wouldn’t bury both of us ahead of time either. Let’s go,” he took my hand and, already stepping into the portal, added: “You don’t wear crimson pants.” This seriously increases our chances.

CHAPTER 6. Day six: Sunday

I woke up early and, oddly enough, in a great mood. Yesterday I returned from Dougal – that is, from Sabella – late and could say without lying that this was the best day spent here.

After meeting the kelpies, Dougal took us back not to the gazebo, but to the phlox bed. Said:

“I don’t think it makes sense to sit with guests and talk about nothing.” It's not just phlox that grows in this garden. And besides the garden there is also a park.

– Do I still need to report on your experimental mixture? – I smiled. – Where do we start?