Page 84 of Citrine

I'm partway down, but it hurts like hell.

"Help me down!" I yell at him.

He doesn't respond to me, just stares at me from afar.

"Can you not hear me? I'm stuck here."

He can hear me. I know he can. His unflinching stare panics me. I don't like his silence.

"Wroahk, hijo de puta."

He doesn't respond, but I know he knows I'm swearing at him. I don't understand why he's being like this. He's helped me in a difficult situation before and I didn't even have to ask him.

I'm the one who has to suffer the pain of changing into a new species. I'm the one who's stuck on a tree I stupidly decided to climb because I was feeling emotionally imbalanced.

Dammit.

I just want to get down where it's safe, and skin that stupid alien alive.

I turn to face the tree, my biggest obstacle. I know I can heal a broken bone, but I don't know if I can heal a broken neck.

"Come on, Eli. You can do this. You have to stay calm. You have to stay—agghhhh!"

My foot slips and I dig my fingers into the branch, breathing heavily. I keep on moving down, then across the cove. It's a long and hard journey. The back of my throat keeps burning and my vision blurs as I slowly, painfully, make my way toward him.

I can still feel his intense gaze, following my every movement. Is he waiting for me to fail and fall?

He hates weak prey.

Will my last moments be spent between the teeth of the monster refusing to help me?

I thought he was reasonable and because I talked to him, I thought he was gentle and kind. I deluded myself into thinking he's just like me, just like a human being with empathy and emotions.

Everything has gone wrong since I met him.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. Why did I think I could rely on him?

My feet finally touch the shore. I sigh in relief, staggering as I get to the end of my journey.

His gaze is even more intense, his tentacles rising from the water like they want to hold me.

Why doesn't he, then? I clearly need him.

38

Wroahk

Watching her slow progress is even more of a torture than hearing her endless talking.

My tentacles reach out, my body screaming at me to help her. I want to; I so desperately want to, but I can't.

She has beached herself. A person's survival cannot depend on anyone else. She must overcome this by herself.

With her tentacles, her gills, and her fins, and clearly her skin now, she is like me. Although I do not know how, I must carry on my duty and turn her into an independent hunter. I never planned to take on a nursery group. I'm not old enough for it, and she isn't young enough, but that is the only similar situation I can think of.

You don't help another being by saving them from being beached. You only extend their lives long enough to do something equally painful.

However, the thought of her not being by my side brings me discomfort. There is no one else who can touch me askindlyas she does. There is none as foolish as her to get so close to a predator like me.

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