Page 16 of Rainse
“So,” she said after a moment, “what do Finfolk do when they’re not saving stranded humans or making over-salted fish?”
“We swim. We work. We fight. Sometimes we sing.”
“Sing?”
“Not with words. With resonance.” I gestured to the faint green tendrils that curled along my ribs. “The greenskin carries sound through water. When enough of us sing together, the ocean vibrates.”
She looked fascinated. “That’s… beautiful. Like whale song.”
“Whales borrowed it from us,” I said, only half teasing.
“Of course they did,” she said dryly, but her lips curved. “I study them, you know. Marine mammals. Mostly orcas, but I’ve worked with minkes too. I was in the field for data collection when the accident happened.”
“The accident.” The word felt too small for what had nearly taken her from me.
“Our boat got hit. By a whale.” She paused, her voice quieter now. “A humpback. I saw its fluke just before it struck. It shouldn’t have behaved like that — they’re not aggressive. We weren’t even close enough to startle it.”
I stayed silent. I was unsure what exactly a whale was, but I could imagine it was one of the great, gentle creatures that sometimes sang to us across the depths. They were not violent by nature. But the oceans of this planet held more secrets than the humans realised.
“It felt deliberate,” she added softly. “Like it wanted us gone.”
“Maybe it did,” I said. “The sea has its own rules.”
“Yeah,” she said, giving a tired smile. “I’m starting to learn that.”
"Why were you on that boat in the first place? I have found humans will stay on land for most of their lives."
"Not all humans. I am a marine biologist. I study life in the oceans. It would be hard to do that without going out, collecting samples, observing nature, discovering the genius solutions nature has developed to problems we don't even know about yet. I go on at least one big expedition each year. This one was supposed to last two months. But now... You said Jammie... James is safe. But what about Hugo? Did you see a third person in the water when you found the two of us?"
I tried to think back to that moment I'd first sensed them from far away. "I don't believe I did. Maybe he had already been rescued by the time I got there?"
She seemed so tense that I wanted to reach out and draw her close. But I resisted the urge. She wasn't ready. Not yet.
"I hope so," she muttered. "It's strange. Twenty-four hours ago, I was climbing into the RIB to look for whales. Now I’m sitting on a beach in borrowed clothes, eating alien fish.”
“Alien fish?”
“You caught it. You cooked it. That makes it alien by association.”
I smiled before I could stop myself. “Then you are alien now too. You have eaten alien fish.”
“Oh no,” she said, mock horror in her voice. “Is that how it works? Some kind of ritual?”
“Perhaps,” I said lightly. “Too late to undo it now.”
Her laughter broke the tension that had been coiling between us since dawn. I wanted to hold on to that sound, keep it safe.
“You’re not what I expected,” she said after a pause. “You’re quieter. Kinder. I thought…”
“You thought monsters from the deep would have sharper teeth?”
“Something like that,” she admitted. “But you don’t seem like someone who enjoys scaring people.”
“I used to,” I said honestly. “When I was younger. Before I learned what fear does to the world.”
She studied me for a moment, her eyes thoughtful. “You’ve seen a lot, haven’t you?”
“Enough to know that peace is rare. And fragile.”
