In a faraway land, there lived the son of a well-known fisherman.
Unlike his father, the boy lacked both the proper physique and fortitude for braving the high seas. Thus, he remained behind on land.
Wherever the boy went, he felt multitudinous eyes set upon him like a pack of vicious dogs. People would stare and whisper between themselves.
"He's no fisherman. The tides would swallow him whole without a second thought."
"However will we manage once his father retires? He'd never replace him."
"The world ill needs useless runts such as him."
Eventually, the boy ceased leaving his home altogether. Naught but scorn and scathing words awaited him outside, ready to consume him as though embodying the sea itself.
The boy grew to hate his body. Its failure to meet the expectations of others brought him misery in droves. He cursed it with every breath he had.
One day the boy's father, back from his most recent excursion abroad, handed him something most peculiar.
A letter.
The boy was puzzled. He'd never been written to before. Tentatively he folded away the envelope, expecting little more than vitriol from a singular villager in a different form.
His fears quelled as his eyes scanned the fair and gentle handwriting. It was a letter of introduction.
From a girl, of all people.
The boy's father explained that a cohort of his overseas had a daughter around his son's age. Upon hearing of his son, the girl wrote the letter and requested that his father deliver it post-haste.
The boy was awed. The fact that such words addressing him bore no spite or malice was at first hard to believe.
But her words were genuine. So genuine that she had taken the time to write them down by hand.
Immediately, the boy knew he had to write back.
She'd given her name, how old she was, what she looked like and where she and her father lived. The boy only saw it fitting to write his equivalences in return.
He handed his father the letter when next he left port, sitting in eager anticipation of her reply. Little could contain the sheer joy of having correspondence with someone who didn't loathe his guts.
Her reply came many moons later, but its delayed delivery only served to heighten the boy's sheer delight.
Upon writing his reply, the boy's father made clear that his trips to her land would only become less frequent. The land was far off from their own, and the trip difficult. There was only so much abuse a fishing vessel could withstand.
The boy's heart sunk at the thought. What if she should forget about him before his reply arrived? The idea haunted him gravely.
Seized with a determination he had never felt before, the boy purchased a carrier pigeon. A flying creature needn't brave the terrors of the sea, and could fly whenever he wished. It was perfect.
After the bird's acquisition, words between the two were exchanged ever more frequently. There was little they did not tell each other, even the smallest detail was sufficient.
They guessed, in equal measure, that they knew each other better than their fathers did.
After many months and many letters, the boy came to a sobering conclusion.
He had fallen in love with his friend across the seas.
It took no shortage of nights and rolled up pieces of paper for him to properly put his feelings to paper. A weight sat hard and heavy on his chest as he awaited her reply.
His hands trembled as he tore open her eventual response.
She felt the same way.
His heart soared and he leapt for joy, dancing around his room in sheer bliss.
Deep down, he had been anticipating heartbreak from the beginning. He had told her of his unenviable physique, the constant jeers from the other villagers, his ineptitude for the life of a fisherman, everything. He had bore to her every reason she might have had to hold disdain for him, and yet she felt the same. It was a wonder beyond words.
From there, the letters only got lengthier. The young lovers poured their passions into what they wrote, bolstered ever further by the distance that lay between them.
Although their love for one another never faded, the boy became anxious. The want to meet his love face to face, to spend the rest of his life with her by his side, was gratuitous. All-consuming. He knew that he could be happy if only he could reach her.
Ignoring the jeers of the townsfolk, he made his way to the seafront and gazed into the distance.
He couldn't afford a boat, nor even a ride on one. One as weak as him would surely perish during the trip anyway, if it were as arduous a journey as his father made out.
Finally, he broke down on his knees in despair. His only hope for happiness lay across unbreachable waves. If only he could traverse water as he could land. He told himself that there was nothing he wouldn't give in pursuit of such happiness.
As if summoned by his words, a radiant light coaxed him to his feet, emanating eerily from a shining white chalice that floated before him.
"Should you wish your desires met, you need only offer me a sacrifice."
The strange voice from the chalice spurred the boy on.
He offered his useless body to the chalice, unfit as it was for feeding a village.
His love wouldn't care. She was the only one who ignored his frailty. The thought only made the sacrifice easier.
The boy's lower body stretched and contorted, a second pair of legs forming behind those he had already. His feet flattened into hooves as his legs surged with newly-formed muscle under the slick, scaly skin the chalice had provided him.
He looked down at himself after his changes had ceased taking a toll on him. The boy could feel the power radiating from within his legs, strong and firm as they were.
With newfound determination, the boy charged headlong at the sea.
So quick and powerful were his new legs that he effortlessly skimmed across the surface of the water. It felt as natural and easy as walking on land.
Now there was nothing between him and his love.
The boy ran until the sun went down, and was still running when it rose anew.
After much running. he reached the shores of his love's homeland. So vivid and thorough were her descriptions that the boy knew where she lived even having never been there before. He galloped to her as fast as his new legs would carry him.
Finally, he arrived at her home. Desire and longing overtook him as he burst in the door, calling his love's name at the top of his lungs. This was the place. There could be no doubt.
From the stairwell there came a scream. A girl's scream.
A girl who matched his love's description of herself down to the last detail.
"Monster! A monster has broken into my home, someone call for help!" She cried desperately, backing away from the scaled, four-legged monstrosity that darkened her door.
A monster. She had called him a monster.
The boy thought to himself.
His love was the only one to have ever accepted him as he was. The only one to have never ridiculed him or berated him for his weak nature. Over and over again she had professed her love for him, pondering what their futures together would be like and wishing for this very situation.
Surely the boy's love couldn't be so reviled by his looks. What they shared between them transcended looks.
A mistake. He must've made a mistake.
The boy roared angrily. She wasn't his love. She was just like everyone else, judgemental and ignorant.
In his anger, he assaulted the girl with his hooves, trampling her to death on the floor of her own home.
The boy galloped towards the sea anew.
He had simply made a mistake. Whether it was the land he ran to, or the home he had entered, he had gone wrong. His faraway sweetheart would never have called him a monster. He needed only to find her. Only when he found her could he be happy.
The four-legged beast disappeared amongst the sea foam, cursed forever more to traverse the world and terrorise young maidens in search of a love that had long since passed.