The old iron lock clicked, squeaking into place as it secured the wooden door. Marika put the key in her pocket and looked further down the road to a familiar smile. An old woman with sapphire-colored eyes dressed in a faded white and yellow gown cheerfully waved to Marika. She returned the greeting, forcing a smile on her face. Marika glanced over her small stone home and sighed with disappointment. The cottage was made from blue granite stones whose striations made it seem like the ocean. The windows and door were made from aspen wood with chaotic gradients of dark and light stains. Iron fixtures speckled the dwelling, which was topped by a small chimney. It stood out among the other homes on the street that displayed neutrals over any actual colors.

“What’s wrong dear?” the older woman asked Marika. She noticed that Marika was wearing a new scarlet dress touched with bright gold trim. The trim matched her yellow eyes and complimented her dark hair beautifully.

“Edda, why did he have to make our house blue? The whole village is made of basalt, and he made it out of granite. I do not understand what your son was thinking.” Marika complained.

“Dear. Please call me mom,” Edda insisted.

“You are his mother, not mine. Calling you mom dishonors my actual mother. Rest her poor soul.”

Edda sighed quietly. “As you wish, but that is precisely why I thought you should call me mom so you would feel less alone.”

Marika gave a disapproving glance to Edda. “I am not alone. I have church and Wilk, and Pé—” she momentarily paused while glancing around. “Where is Pétur? Is he not with you?”

“I think he said he was going to the cliffs that overlook where Rybak used to dock his boat.”

“That boy needs to stay away from the ocean. It’s dangerous. He is sixteen and needs to start thinking about proper work and eventually marriage. Did he tell you that I had made the arrangements for him to begin courting? That little ingrate turned down three different women from very respectable families. Two of which had sizeable dowries!” Marika vented in disappointment.

Edda tried to console Marika. “He will be ready when he is ready. He is still mourning his, “.

“Don’t start. There has been plenty of time. Look at me. The man was my husband, and I am managing just fine. The boy is too emotional. I have done the best I can, but he needs to be surrounded by men. They will sort him out better than your coddling Edda.” Marika snapped.

“You would know best dear. You are his mother.” Edda pacified. “Why don’t we start walking to the church.”

“Well, you better keep up so we are not late again for the service.” Marika clamored.

***

A small boy with messy dark-brown hair sat safely near the edge of a grassy cliff overlooking the ocean. He dreamily gazed into the rolling sea with its thunderous call. The deep metallic blues were dressed in almost fluorescent white foam. The waves crashed against the cliffs in an endless line winding into the western horizon. There was no beach except for a small patch of coastal land on the eastern ridge of which the village of Monsa sat. The light-brown sand was barren, containing only a dock where small fishing boats would frequent.

Pétur turned to his domesticated wolf cub that was playing. “Wilk! Don’t eat that!” Pétur chuckled as the cub had started tearing up a purple flower from the ground.

The pup had a soft coat with different shades and tints of gray except on top of his head. The top of Wilk’s head was a light brown that streaked from the tips of his ears to his snout. He was extremely curious and had an exuberance of energy. It seemed as if Wilk had to smell every plant and pounce on every insect. Everything that caught his gaze was fair game for investigation. His eyes had just changed from blue to green the week before, as is usual for young wolves after a few weeks of life.

Pétur wondered if all creature’s eyes changed color like wolves. The eyes of wolves typically start out blue, eventually settling on yellow by adulthood. He thought about how his eyes are an ocean-blue hue like much of the village. And like everyone in the village, they will change to yellow after his religious confirmation. Pétur often expressed how strange it was that the God of Light required a religious ritual for his chosen people, but his sacred animal gets to transform naturally. The people of Monsa were not fans of questions like that or the many others that Pétur asked.

Pétur turned around again to continue looking at the sea. He mused that maybe people with blue eyes were originally from Aeqor, but the sea kingdom was just a myth told to children to scare them away from the ocean. Pétur did not scare easily or at least was indifferent to most things. Being a monstrous fishlike person did not seem that bad to him. It would allow him to be free of his mother and her incessant need to control every part of his life. Pétur smiled at the thought of transforming into a beast and scaring away all the people he had to avoid regularly.

In frustration, Pétur groaned aloud, which caused Wilk to freeze in his tracks. “Wilk, don’t you think it’s strange she wants me to get married? I haven’t even selected a trade to study yet. Ugh! Why is she so stubborn and so controlling? Three girls in a month! Is she just going up to random girls at church? I mean, Papa was twenty before he married her.” Pétur fell back into the grass with his arms extended. This made a soft vibration on the ground and in the air.

Wilk looked at Pétur playfully before squealing out a partial howl. Pétur mustered a smile before rolling over and howling back at Wilk. The pup looked around, confused by the origin of the sound. Moments later, he came charging toward Pétur. Wilk started licking Pétur’s face and biting his fingers. Pétur sat up, which accidentally caused Wilk to tumble. Like all young pups, he was back on his paws in a moment making all sorts of loud, silly noises. A minute later, there was a sudden silence. Wilk’s eyes caught sight of his own tail, and before long, hilarity ensued.

Eventually, Pétur’s mind found its way back to his big question. Why should he have to get married at all? Young marriage was not unheard of in the village’s history, but it was rare. He was uninterested in romance and just desired to escape everything. Why couldn’t the world just pass him by and, like the waves, fade into nothingness?

His mind wandered further as he lost track of time. Wilk helped with the absence of time to the backdrop of natural beauty. Hours had slowly passed, and it was time to return home. He took a deep breath and convinced himself to be numb once more. He started back and called to Wilk, who gleefully followed him home.

***

“Ah, Mrs. Sila and Mother Sila,” resounded the gray-haired priest at the open doors of a white marble church.

“Good day to you Kaplan Rufa,” nodded Marika.

“And where is young Mr. Sila today? Is our Lord’s light not bright enough to lift even his spirits?” haughtily spoke Kaplan Rufa.

“Apologies, Kaplan. Pétur was gone this morning before I rose.” Marika confessed.

“Perhaps it is too much to expect a mother to control her son, even one as timid as Pétur.” Sneered the Kaplan. “He is getting to the age where he should be confirmed and make his prysiaha before the church.”

Edda broke protocol and abruptly interjected. “Please forgive us both, Kaplan. Pétur is becoming a man and is at the age where he would receive more direct guidance from his father. With Rybak gone, we both have found it difficult to know what we should do.” Edda paused as the Kaplan considered her words. “We are, after all, merely just women and not blessed with the wisdom of our Great Lord Vadim.”

“Very true words Mother Sila.” Kaplan Rufa agreed. “Perhaps I was a bit too firm in my tone.”

“It is your right to do so.” Edda gracefully nodded. “Perhaps you could pray for our Pétur that he would find his way home.”

With a heightened pitch and a strolling sound, Marika interrupted, “Perhaps there is more you could do Kaplan where Edda has failed. Pétur needs a father figure, and who better than the father to our village? If you so agreed, of course.”

“Interesting notion Mrs. Sila. I might be willing to take him under my wing with your support Marika.” The Kaplan paused then slightly glanced at Edda. “And yours as well, Mother Sila.”

Edda smiled and nodded but seemed to be leaning more than usual. “With your blessing, Kaplan, might this old woman take her seat? My legs are not what they used to be.”

“Of course, Mother Sila.” Kaplan Rufa motioned for her to go in while Marika lingered.

The two watched as Edda found her seat near the back of the church. Marika turned to the Kaplan and gently touched his arm. “I would be grateful for any help you could be. I have been struggling with that boy ever since his father….” Marika trailed off while tearing up slightly.

Kaplan Rufa gently moved Marika’s hand from his arm to his chest. “You do not have to think anything of it. I am always here to aid the faithful in their time of need.” They looked into each other’s eyes a moment as others passed by with side glances. They quickly let go of one another.

“Please call on me anytime that I may repay this kindness. Perhaps I might unburden you from the weight of your responsibilities as you see fit.” Marika coyly suggested.

“The church adores our most beloved daughter and would never abandon her in a time of need.” Slyly whispered Kaplan Rufa.