Page 35 of Crashing Tides

Must be the anxiety, I reason. Very carefully, I stroke the dog’s ear with the palm of my hand. His nose twitches, but he doesn’t rouse.

Using my free arm and whatever has replaced my legs, I propel us to shore. Occasionally, I alternate my grip on the dog.

Underwater, something brushes against me. I let out a screech like a dying banshee. The sound echoes over the waves, cuts through the air like a knife. If I were any less afraid, I’d be embarrassed.

Whatever it is, it doesn’t touch me again, but I swim with renewed vigor.

“Get to shore, get to shore, get to shore,” I babble, using my new, webbed hand to gain momentum.

Is something hunting me? Are a lot of things hunting me? I can’t quite see into the depths. Not in this pure blackness. And as my spine tingles in terror, another part of me yearns to dive under, to see what lurks beneath the waves.

I push the urge down and focus on swimming.

Eventually, I scrape my stomach on a rock. Pain zings up and down my torso, but I’m overwhelmed by a sense of relief. We must be nearing the shore.

Pulling the dog closer to me, I use my free hand to navigate, hoping to find any rocks before we crash into them.

And then, at long last, my hand strikes sand—soft, grainy, wondrous sand.

The problem comes when I try to get my feet under me. My legs aren’t working, won’t align the way I want them to. Loud splashing accompanies my struggle.

“I’m not looking,” I grit out. My new, sharp teeth feel strange against my tongue. “You can’t make me.”

If I look, I’ll never recover from the shock, I’m sure of it.

Twenty feet later, I manage to lay the dog flat on the beach. Then, when the tide sloshes over us, I shove him out in front of me.

Wind rips past us. I shudder, gave the dog another shove. Now that I can see him laid out in front of me, I realize there’s something funky about his coat. Something strange about his build.

Holy fucking shit, this is a wolf, not a dog. Even drenched, I recognize the shape of the head, the face, the ears, the body, the massive paws.

A wolf tried to save me.

A wolf, or…

My hand flies to my mouth in a spray of salt water and sand. I poke myself in the lip with a talon and it hurts.

A shifter. Someone saw me fall, tried to rescue me.

Someone banned from Halea saw me fall and risked everything to get to me.

That has to be it. There was no one else at the ruin. Nobody to fall with me. Besides, if there had been a wolf hanging out nearby, I would’ve noticed, right?

Right?

It doesn’t matter. I keep flopping and shoving at the wolf. I’ll get him to safety and then worry about whatever the hell is wrong with me.

Thank fuck nobody is around to witness this.

When I’ve finally outrun the tide, I give the wolf one final push, and collapse onto my stomach, panting hard. Everything aches. My hands, my torso, my legs, my throat, my sinuses, hell, even my skin. I groan, drag myself to the wolf, holding my ear over its mouth so I can listen to his frantic breathing.

Does he need CPR? Does he⁠—

At once, I can’t breathe. There’s a strange stillness to my body, even my organs, as if every muscle has locked, every joint frozen. I try to move. Nothing happens.

And then comes a bolt of agony, like lightning down my spine. I make a sound like the breath has been punched out of me, and maybe it has been, for all I know.

Something crunches. I scream. My legs are on fire, my arms feel like they’ve been dipped in acid, and my spine is fucking twisting. My throat constricts. I choke, cough, convulse. A terrible sound ripples in the wind, then vanishes.