Page 7 of Saved By the Selkie

Hunting isn’t exactly high on my list of priorities—I’m already hungry, so it seems silly to waste energy, especially when the human is right there, and honestly, I could kill him. It would probably be easier than trying to explain all of this to Vati.

I could just eat some more of this mysterious coco-nut thing, but I can already tell it’s not going to be enough. I hadn’t eaten for about two days before this—I was avoiding Vati and my brothers, which was easier to do when I went and lounged on the beach—so the situation is pretty dire. Selkies can go a few days without eating, but it’s not my favorite thing. I haven’t been into week-long fasts since I was a pup.

Prey is plentiful around the southern shore, though, so it doesn’t take me long to gather a few flipperfuls of shrimp. I push them back on shore and bark at the human.

He’s in the trees, so I bounce back into the water. I repeat the process a couple more times, then bring some choice-looking crabs up on shore.

“Oh wow,” Human says. He’s rolled up the navy-blue pelt on his bottom half, revealing brown skin underneath. He’s standing ankle-deep in the sand, looking at the catch. “I’ll start a fire.”

“A what?” I ask as I peel myself out of my pelt, but he’s already wandered back to the trees. I watch him curiously as he drags some big palm leaves back to the beach. He lifts his eyebrows at me, then disappears back into the brush.

Eventually, he squats down around his pile of sticks and leaves and picks a strange-looking rock out of his pocket. He strikes it a few times and bright light jumps from the rock to the brush pile. It takes a moment, but then the whole pile is dancing orange and red.

“What is that?” I ask, drawing closer. It’s … mesmerizing. I’ve seen it before, a few times, after lightning streaked down from the sky.

“Fire,” he says as he picks up another stick. He starts stringing the shrimp on it. “Now we can cook the food.”

“Cook?”

“Yeah.” He pauses. “Wait, you don’t cook your food?”

I shake my head. “What … is that?”

He puts the stick of shrimp over the fire. “It makes it … not raw. It’s easier to digest. And less likely to make you sick.”

“Huh.” I watch the shrimp; they’re sizzling. There’s smoke rising from the fire.

The human wraps the crabs up in leaves and sets them around the fire. “We’ll have to steam them,” he says.

“Steam,” I repeat. Everything he does is so … weird.

“Here, help me crack some more coconuts.”

It turns out I’m really good at cracking the coco-nuts. They’re a bit like crab shells. We skewer more shrimp, placing pieces of white flesh between them.

He takes the first skewer off the fire. The shrimp are now paler pink and almost black at points.

He offers me the stick. I take it, then clamp my teeth down around it and clear the shrimp off it. I chew; I’m not sure this is better than just eating them, and I frown at him.

He holds up his hands. “They’re better with sauce.”

“Sauce,” I mutter. Talking to the human is making my head spin. I munch on more coco-nut while he “checks” the crabs to see if they’re “done.”

The fire burns down to nothing; the lingering storm clouds clear away, revealing the starry canopy of the night sky. I sigh softly and wallow into the sand, making a shallow sleeping spot. I should go home, but …

Beside me, the human sighs and stretches his four limbs before reclining on his back, tucking his arms behind his head.

“Do you have a name?” I ask.

“Huh?” He looks at me. “Oh. Yeah. Names, huh. Mine’s Aramis. Yours?”

“Lir.”

“Lir, huh. Uh … well. Thanks for saving me. And, uh, not killing me?”

Silence settles over us, and I realize that he’s drifted off to sleep. Frowning, I roll over, intent on sleep myself. It’s been a long day, and tomorrow’s going to be worse.

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