Salt

Today's subject is "Dancing," and the theme is "salt." Not sure what I'm going to do with that theme, but I'm sure I'll figure something out. :) If you think of something different, I'd love to see it!
---

Watching Them dance always brought a feeling of freedom with it. But at the same time, the closeness of the little pool was even more apparent when they were no longer there, with their freedom and grace to serve as a distraction. The water was still as sweet and fresh, gentle in its sweeping, cool caresses, flowing out of the pool toward the sea. Attempts to dance like Them always ended the same way - failure. Or at least, it wasn't success.

If it had been a Dance like They danced, then Sister wouldn't have laughed.
When the Day came - when the waiting was too much - the flow the spring swept her away from the pool. Almost immediately, things began to change. New colors, new flavors in the water, new sounds. All that time, and these new things had only been a moment away. Something sharp and yellow plunged through the mirror surface of the water, only a twitch away from her flank. Panic was like a flood that gave speed that propelled her away from the sharp yellow thing. The sharp yellow thing lifted and jabbed again, catching the tip of a fin. Pain. Fear. The pool had been safer.

The current carried on, sweeping over stone and sand and scales. The new taste grew stronger, stung the inside of her mouth, scratched her throat. The farther the current took her, the harder it was to breathe. She had to turn back.

Water as far as she could see, as far as she could feel. Water forever. But it hurt. It hurt to breathe, it stung her eyes, it burned her gills. It hurt to turn back, too. Hurt to leave her dreams behind.

She couldn't dance the Dance like They did. But she would make her own Dance. She would dance her own Dance and the pool would dance with her. It would be her Dance, and it would be good, even if Sister did laugh.