Johnny had long grown accustomed to the danger that followed him, the constant attempts by people to claim his pelt. It was a familiar threat that came with being a selkie. But you? You were different. Far different. Most would have tried to sneak a hand on him, to steal his skin or capture him in some way. Yet, you didn’t touch him. You didn’t even approach him like others did. Instead, you lingered at a distance, more focused on observing him and his pod with a kind of detached curiosity. You didn’t look at him with the same intent most others did—greed, fear, or obsession. You seemed to study him, not out of malice, but with a quiet fascination.

Johnny knew the stories. He had heard whispers from his podmates about the humans who sought to steal what wasn’t theirs. Some never came back, lost to the ocean’s depths, dragged under by his kind or something else far darker. He was well aware of his reputation: a dangerous creature, one with the power to vanish people without a trace. His reputation had kept many at bay, but you weren’t like them.

He lay on a sun-warmed rock, his dark pelt draped loosely over his bare form, soaking in the rare warmth of an Arctic summer. The sun barely touched the ice, but the air was surprisingly mild for this time of year. Still, there was always a chill at the edge of the breeze, a reminder of where they were. His golden eyes watched you, the only movement the occasional flicker of his tail or the soft shifting of his fur.