Her patrols for the Falls, her herd but not her home, took her far to the west. She went beyond the large expanse of grass, where she had nearly slain the dagger-headed man’s precious dragon-snake. And she followed the wettest path; her course hugged any and all water that collected on the earth’s drying surface. Tallsun’s heat had done its best to dry out the soil—even leaving broad swaths of charred scars across the earth—but the woman was of the sea. Her body was attracted, almost by magic, to liquid. So her trek took her through marshes and ponds; all sadly depleted, but still wet.

And her mind was distracted in her travels—thoughts of Akvo, the coral city full of bright life—plaguing her thoughts. Only once or twice did her webbed steps halt, scaled ears swiveling to listen for some strange rustle in the shrubs around her. But her large, unblinking eyes found nothing. So she continued on, finally sinking her dried, ashen, tired body into a pond wreathed with willows.

The moment the water touched her plated, smooth skin, the warmth and vibrancy of color leapt from it. Greys became warm tans, dark ash became deep browns, and pale blue became bright aqua. A soft pulse of light came from her striped skin as she reveled in the feeling of liquid across her body—even if it was fresh rather than salt.

The ridges of neck undulated, sloshing the water between their crevasses; her veleta vizaĝo fanned in the water, splashing liquid across her face—and suddenly a snarl ripped from her throat as the willow’s limbs near the shore rustled and a snort sounded. Scaled lips to reveal sharpened teeth, fins flared and ridges raised as her stripes pulsed with warning light.

Too large eyes of aqua and yellow glare at the offender: a grey striped man covered in scars. Her assessing, warning gaze caught his size (he was larger than herself), and bulking shift of well-honed muscles beneath his striped skin. “I'm trying to decide whether I should slay you,” another, deep growl ripped from her throat at the word ‘slay’, her tail raising out of the water and vibrating, sending a warning buzz of her barbs through traveling over the water.


"Or ask you for directions.” Her tail rattling stopped, as did the undulation of her neck ridges and vibrating of her face-fins. She blinked once (a rarity), eyes leaving their assessment of his clearly well trained body to find his two-tone, azure eyes. “I have killed kalmarojotes three times your size,” her throaty voice sounded—not bragging, but merely stating a fact, “You would find it hard to slay me.” Again, her deep, husky voice was matter-of-fact as she slowly rose out of her defensive crouch in the water.

Though she remained in the deeper shallows—for her appraisal of this feral-looking, scarred man was that he was a warrior. And her battle prowess was beneath the surface. If he wanted a fight, he would have to come to her ground.

Still pinning him with her unblinking stare, she asked, “Directions where?”

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veleta vizaĝo = fins of the face
kalmarojotes = giant squids