Once upon a time, sleeping with one eye open was a must. A necessity. Close both and who knows what could slip past and thieve your most prized possessions.
Old habits die hard.
But we’re not sleeping. We’re trying.
Failing.
Curled in a knot within a rocky nest at the mouth of our trove, my drako surveys the ocean, watching shadows drift by.
Large shadows. Tiny shadows. Shadows with long, wiggly arms, and some that chase others at an alarming speed.
Zykanth isn’t roused by them. Big or small, fast or slow, he knows there’s not much out there to fear.
Not anymore.
A jarring sound comes to us from above. A strident summons.
Tap ... tap ... tap ...
Drawing our lungs full of chilly water, Zyke releases a great, disruptive rumble that ripples through the ocean, scattering a swarm of Bala sharks that were nibbling the algae off our scales.
My drako doesn’t move; not a single fin. Doesn’t even crack our other eye open.
‘He won’t stop.’
As if to prove my point, the sound repeats. Faster this time.
Tap-tap-tap.
Zykanth flicks our serpentine tail—an abundance of silver frills dashing through the water. ‘Eat angry man?’
‘No. We cannot eat him ... Unfortunately.’
He huffs, expelling a scalding plume of water, making a zealous effort to close the other lid.
Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap—
We snarl in unison, upper lip peeled back from the arsenal of our fine-tipped maw.
‘Angry man have no rhythm.’Zykanth begins to unfurl. ‘Angry man better off dead.’
‘Zyk—’
He shoves off the ledge with a great beat of our tail, skirting around sharp rocks and through swaying forests of waterweeds. Swarms of fish scatter, the ocean holding its breath as we spear skyward.
I sigh, snatching control moments before he breaks the surface.
Our jaw dislocates with a painfulpopthat never gets any easier, and the entire length of our spine convolutes as we shrink and shrink, one compacting vertebra at a time. Bones crack and crunch and splinter, our skin tightening, herding Zyke into the cage of my chest where he thrashes against my ribs—the painful thuds casting ripples through the water.
He really was going to eat him.
Head rising above the surface, I arch a brow, taking in the shadow of a man standing atop a small mound of jagged stone. He’s dressed in black, eyes twin moons peering out from the darkness.
“Isn’t it past your bedtime?”
“Get out,” he growls with a flash of teeth, tossing a metal rod aside—the one he just used to rouse us with.
It clatters against the stone in an erratic beat that makes me bristle. Makes Zykanth do the same.
