Free Water by Peter Dickinson, Robin McKinley Page A

about telling him the things she
    knew, when he could see for himself and draw his own conclusions. But he told her it was not so.
    “I cannot go even so far from the sea as visit your farm myself,” he said. “I cannot let the landair dry my skin or I will die.” And, several times during the course of any one of their afternoon
    conversations, he did wade back into the water and splash himself all over.
    It had occurred to them both that being thrown up on the bridge by a wave was a little
    spectacular for everyday use, especially if they wished to keep their meetings a secret. The
    harbour itself was avoided by everyone, but there were many people going about their business
    not so far from all view of it that Jenny and Dreiad could be sure no one would notice anything
    worth investigating. Jenny felt that small dazzling daily rainbows on the haunted bridge might
    well arouse curiosity. So now they met on the sea-shore, some distance from the bridge, and
    usefully around a curve at the mouth of the harbour where in three generations of disuse a young
    wood had grown up. Behind it there was a small meadow where Jenny tethered Flora, and
    Gruoch tried out various trees for sleeping in the shade of.
    Jenny grew accustomed to Dreiad’s strange, ripply, silvery skin; it was much like fish-scales,
    although not quite like, and she had seen fish rarely enough in her life, and never thought of their
    scales as pleasant or unpleasant to look upon. But she found Dreiad, as the days passed, very
    pleasant to look at, and she forgot that he was scaly, and damp, and remembered only that his
    smile made him beautiful. As they grew to know more about each other, their differences
    became both more dear to them, and more shocking. They teased each about the language they
    shared, that (Jenny said) land-people had taken with them as they adapted to life in the sea; that
    (Dreiad said) land-people had learned to use even in the unforgiving air, which constantly dried
    out the mouth and throat and lungs, which even land-people acknowledged had to be kept moist.
    The idea of dairy cows was absurd to Dreiad: “Milk is for baby creatures! Your mother suckled
    you, did she not? And then stopped as you grew bigger. Cow milk is for baby cows!” She
    brought him a piece of cheese, but although he tasted it, he made a wry face and was not
    converted. But Jenny found the green juice that the sea-people ordinarily drank, which was some
    decoction made of underwater grass, too terrible even to sip at.
    They rarely touched, for his skin was clammy on hers, and hers uncomfortably hot to him; and
    when they realised they had fallen in love with each other, this became a sorrow to them, and
    they teased each other less about sea and land, and their conversations grew awkward. Jenny’s
    parents began to worry about her again, for she looked a little less rosy and a little more haggard,
    and they wondered if perhaps Robert had waylaid her sometime during her absences from the
    farm, and was attempting to win her back. They asked her about this, but she said “No, no”
    impatiently, and with that they chose to be content for a little longer.
    It did happen occasionally that Jenny and Dreiad could not meet for a day or two; their lives had
    been full and busy before they met, and squeezing several secret hours every day from their
    normal occupations was not possible. Neither made any protest when the other said that they
    could not meet the next day, but they always parted sadly on those days, and Jenny, at least,
    began to ride home pondering how what had begun might end, and yet not willing to ponder. For
    the moment his company was enough and more than enough, in the way of lovers; but she knew
    the time was coming when this would no longer be true, because he was of the sea and she was
    of the land, and she knew that even the thinking of it made that time grow closer. Dreiad had
    never said that he loved her, any more than she had ever said she