Lyric and Niarthen Escape

Havermouth, Present Time

“Here,” Lyric stalled Niarthen when he went to get in between the sheets. “Your hair is drenched, and the bed will get soaked. Let me dry it off for you. Don’t mermaids have beds?” She stepped up onto the bed with the towel in her hands and he turned so that his calves were against the mattress, presenting his back and the long, wet skeins of his hair to her.

“We have beds,” he said as she began to dry his hair. “But not like these. Our beds use living weed and moss to cushion us, and the water that runs from us to them nurtures them. It is a symbiotic relationship. They provide us with comfort and warmth, and we provide them with water and food.”

“Food,” she repeated. “That sounds… ominous.”

“We shed hair, skin cells, scale, sweat and seed… What we shed as a matter of course, feeds that upon which we lie.”

“That is a little… icky,” she told him pulling a face. “Like your beds are eating you whilst you sleep.”

He laughed. “Whilst I appreciate the comfort of yo