28 - Mavka 05 - Twisted Possibilities

  She drifted down the current. Head face up to the evening sky. Barely her face breached the water, the rest floated idly. She felt the competing pulls in her chest ebb and flow. The river just had a familiar feeling of home. But something still pulled her towards that boat on the edge of the docks.
  She just hung there, quiet and willfully ignoring the world.
  Then something changed.
  She spun and dived as the pull of her chest seemed to swing. Whatever it was, was on the move. She sunk down in the water and lighted against the bottom, walking gently amongst the silt as she approached the river mouth. The pull wasn't towards the ocean anymore, but towards land. Part of her frowned. She kicked and pushed to the surface, looking out. She swum to the shore. Pulling herself up on some rocks, she kept herself low. Almost immediately, she started to feel *wrong*, as she did when she pulled herself from the water. It was a fuzzy sentation now, while she was still within sight of the river, but it wold get worse, the longer and further she travelled.
  She made her way from the rocks to the manufactured shoreline, pulling herself up to the concrete that bordered the roadway. The dark was starting to fall now. She slowly crept along the concrete.
  "Hey, Girl!" Someone called. She flicked her head to the side towards the cry. "Are you Alright?"
  She could just make out a trio of figures - men. Men figures. Who were approaching her.
  She Ran. Feet found purchase on the rocks, as she dived back into the water.
  She pushed down into the water and turned. The figures were silhouetted by the rising moonlight, and they followed to the water's edge... Her hands flicked out before her and curled into claws as she waited, as she *anticipated* for them to follow. She didn't breathe, she didn't need to, but for this moment, she was very aware of that as she waited.
  After a minute or so, the figures backed off, and headed back up to the city line.
  She calmed. The pull in her chest of *mine* hadn't moved for a while now, but it was distant. Distant, and thus... out of hand. Out of possibility.