Page 13 of Citrine

I've hardly ever been able to use the few Spanish phrases I learned from listening to mypadresince I didn't know which contexts are socially acceptable. Doesn't seem like it mattersright now. It sure felt like an excellent time to use one of his favorites.

"Yep. Son of a bitch."

I move along the rocks, careful to not fall against their sharp edges, nervous that they block my view. A sudden gust of wind whips through the air, enveloping me in a cloud of dust.

Blind and disoriented, I struggle to regain my bearings.

When the dust settles, I find myself face to face with a creature perched atop a rock, its gaze locking with mine.

It has six green tentacles. Its torso is sleeker than a human's, with two arm-like structures extending from its shoulders.

It has one finger and a thumb on each hand, with a webbed structure in between. Fin-like structures rise from where an elbow would be, but it doesn't look like it has bones.

Its body is like that of a streamlined human male, but with shark-like skin that looks smooth and shiny. Its face is broader than a human's, with a wide mouth filled with sharp teeth like a dolphin's.

It doesn't have much in the way of lips surrounding that row of jagged teeth.

Its eyes are black, cold, and predatory, reminding me of a shark's gaze. There's no hair on its head, just smooth skin stretched tight over its skull.

"Los cojones!What the fu—"

Fear grips me, paralyzing my limbs. One of the tentacles flick toward me.

I flinch, losing my balance and turning my ankle on a rock. The world spins, and the ground rushes up to meet me.

6

Wroahk

My tentacles are poised to scoop up the creature before me. But before I can reach out, the bright yellow eyes meet mine, wide with terror.

Something makes me pause as it takes in my form with frantic, darting eyes. Then it slips from the rocks, tumbling to the ground below with a dull thud.

I study the fallen form.

Her bright yellow weeds cascade around her, a stark contrast against the muted tones of the rocky terrain. As I study her, I notice the small, delicate frame of her body, far more curved than the females of my species.

The creature is a female and injured, red blood trickling in tantalizing rivulets on her brown skin.

Another whiff of air drifts my way, carrying with it the unmistakable scent that invaded my senses earlier. I recoil, realizing with a start that it emanates from her.

From the smell of her, I can tell her flesh would be vile.

She is best for the Many Teeth.

I descend the rock so I can grab her. As I scoop her up onto my tentacles, I can't help but notice how small and fragile she seems in my grasp. Her body is delicate, almost childlike compared to the robust forms of my species.

Even our young ones are larger and more formidable than her. It's almost laughable how easily I could crush her with a mere flick of one long, twisting limb.

I lift a long tentacle to do just that, excited to see her spill more of that red blood, even if it will probably make the air even more foul. My limb quivers in anticipation as I try to bring it down to strike her.

I just… can't.

Instead, I climb back up the face of the rock with her and back down the other side toward the lakeshore. Her body is limp as I hold her above the rock, the vast expanse of the lake spreading out in my periphery.

I thought the sky had sent me something extraordinary, but all they sent was a dainty meal.

And a nasty one at that.

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