Ahus [better] — No Survey

By the time they reached the cobbled lane, the sea was returning. Not violently. Gently, like a dog coming home. The fog lifted. The stones sank back beneath the rising water, and the tidal pool filled with ordinary, salt-bitter sea. The next morning, the villagers found Eira and Albin asleep on the bench outside the church, wrapped in the same wool blanket. The iron bell lay silent between them. The rope was coiled neatly at their feet.

Just once. Softly. As if remembering how. By the time they reached the cobbled lane,

And the bell in the stone church, for the first time in forty years, rang once. salt-bitter sea. The next morning