Overhead, the wind whips the waves into white-caps, a storm surely brewing; one quick swim to the top would confirm it, but Emma had no desire to go the extra distance. Today, like every other day she has lived, she swims alone, except for her pod, with no fellow sirens to keep her company. Abandoned, raising herself among a group of spotted dolphins, she quickly grew the skills she needed to survive, the mentality she needed to do it, and the maturity of someone much older than her. She learned to craft her own spears and carving knives whenever the pod came into shallow water, where she would surely find metals and bones from sunken galleons. Her mind was keen and her speed often rivaled the schooners her pod persevered after. She had close calls, often when a drunken sailor would pay too close attention to the speck of flowing gold hair and the pale cerulean tail that followed. He would seldom shout to his fellow mates, who regularly shrugged him off and snatched away his whiskey. Most of the time however, he just stared and stumbled away.
Emma didn't remember much of her short childhood, other than of the dolphins that raised her from the age of three. Before that she couldn't remember. She was raised on octopus and small fish, and the leftover milk of the offspring-bearing mothers. She could easily tell one from another, and participated in the hunt. The only artifact that Emma has of her earlier life is a gold chain with an inscribed gold swan. On the front side, is her name neatly inscribed in gold. All that she has learned in her twenty-three years of live are that of primal instinct, self teaching, and far-off observation of humans.
She could feel the change in the weather, as soon as the first drop fell from the heavens. The dark waters looked even more menacing than they had in the moments past, and she shuddered. The pod had started to head north again, resuming the journey back to the coast near the Enchanted Forest. The hunting was good, and the pod was well fed. The young calves suckled on their mothers, and when they weren't doing that, they either observed their parents herd the pollock or practiced their unique calls. Either way, the forty-seven member group was as content as ever.
The storm overhead continued to darken the sky and pound the waves, and an occasional, audible SMACK could be heard following a bright flash. Calves swam closer to their mothers, and the pod stayed close in fear of an attack from below. Emma could feel the tension and fear among the animals, and she tried desperately to calm them with song. Some relaxed, and were more fluid in their movements, but most stayed rigid, and in their guard. She thought, "I guess that is for the better, seeing that we are swimming over such deep ocean with the new-borns in tow." The group trekked on, until they observed an extremely large shadow floating in the water. At first they were cautious, noting it could bring them harm, but then almost all were overcome with primal happiness, as they saw a nearby school of pollock, flashing silver and blue. They immediately swarmed the fish, and practiced their usual routine, barely giving Emma time to swim after them and join in. Only minutes later, and they pod scattered. She realized this couldn't be normal, seeing that they went in all directions, frantically calling out to their children, and Emma thought, "To me..?" The pod had seen the net coming moments before she had.