The water cradles you. It’s the first thing you notice. The satin embrace a blanket for your final rest. It’s cold. Cutting. Don't be frightened, it's supposed to be. You’ll know it's working once it snakes into your bone marrow. It will stop hurting sooner then you’ll realize. 

The light will be there. Staring at you, expectantly. You won’t go into it. You won’t need it, that’s what you’ll tell yourself, at least. 

Everyone says it's the back that goes first. I didn’t feel it though. I saw the blood in the water, and the scarred skin that used to lay on my back floating behind me. We don’t talk about how it was only a day before we could no longer see it at the bottom of the lakebed. 

You’ll land by the river. No matter where you started. Your hair will be longer than you remember.

You’ll be surrounded by them. The only thing that will matter to you from this point on. Your sisters. You will know that you are safe, that this is your home. 

They will grieve with you. They will be your strength, your anger, your vengeance. As you will for them. 

“It is our home.” They will tell you. “It is our home.” You will agree. 

You’ll hunt together. It’s hard at first, you still feel a little human. It still hurts to see people die. 

The ache fades around the time the gills grow in.