Moonlit Waters: His Mermaid Luna

Chapter 11: Desperation

OCEANA

My eyes widened as I broke the surface, taking in the melting sky pearls (hailstones) scattered across the water. They floated like shimmering gems, each one different in size and catching the light in the most enchanting way, and as terrifying as the storm was, its aftermath was undeniably beautiful.

I swam among the sky pearls, my fingers reaching out to touch them, and each one felt cool and smooth against my skin, a fleeting sensation that faded as I continued to move among them, amazed by the wonders that surrounded me.

The pearls varied in size, some as small as pebbles and others as large as my palm, and they bobbed gently in the water, their icy forms slowly dissolving.

It was like holding a piece of the storm itself, and I was still admiring the wonder when the sound of birds broke my reverie.

My gaze shifted to the shore, following the sounds, and my heart stopped in my chest. It was the dog, Lykos, and my body moved of its own accord as I began to swim towards the shore.

The sky pearls and the storm faded from my mind as I gazed at the dog I never imagined seeing again. He was still alive. He survived. How, when the guards searched the entire island?

He was playing with the birds, which warmed my heart, while questions raced through my mind as I swam forward, everything else fading into the background.

However, the warmth did not last long, and my heartbeat quickened as I realized what he was doing. He was not playing with the birds; rather, he was attempting to capture them.

I came to a halt when I got close enough to take a better look at him. He looked weak and sickly, and I winced as I watched him crash through the sand, scattering the birds. Then it struck me—he was hungry.

He was attempting to eat the birds but was struggling. My gaze shifted to his fur, which had been shiny and black but was now patchy and dull. He appeared broken, and I could almost count his ribs. Tears filled my eyes; he was so thin.

The poor dog was starving, and before I knew it, I was diving into the depths, determined to help, and it did not take long to find a fish.

“I’m sorry, Fishy,” I whispered, grabbing it. It was big eats little down in the depths, survival of the fittest. But we merpeople were herbivores, not fish eaters which is why I apologized.

Taking its life made me sad, but I had a feeling the dog disliked seaweed. It was a human pet, after all. I came up with the fish and threw it across the water. It landed in front of Lykos, and I watched as he devoured it. But seeing how quickly he ate, I realized one wouldn’t be enough.

So, feeling like a murderer, I dove back into the depths and caught two more fish. One more time, I sent a fish hurtling onto the shore and watched as Lykos tore into the second fish with the same desperate fervor.

The sight filled me with a mixture of relief and sadness. How long had he been suffering like this? How did he get here, so far from the life he once knew?

Diving once more, I grabbed another fish before sending the third one hurling towards the shore. Like the others, it hit the mark, but this time, instead of simply devouring the fish, Lykos looked up as it landed with a thud in front of him.

I froze in place, my arm raised, ready to throw the fourth fish as we both stood motionless, staring at each other. Even though I could not see Lykos's eyes clearly from such a distance, I could feel them looking directly at me, and my heart rate quickened.

As merpeople, our eyesight was not the best above water, but I could feel his gaze piercing the space between us.

He took slow, cautious steps closer, and then I heard a low whining sound as if he was attempting to communicate with me. My fluke touched the sand, and only then did I realize that as he drew nearer, I was following suit.

That jolted me out of my reverie and caused me to throw the fourth fish, which Lykos ignored. He moved closer, his legs now in the water, and the sound he was making became louder before abruptly changing from soft sounds to a series of loud, rhythmic sounds.

It was unlike anything I had ever heard beneath the waves—the creature's vocalizations were sharp and staccato, similar to seabird cries, but deeper and more resonant. The creature appeared to be desperate, opening and closing its mouth in quick succession. It was both startling and captivating, and I could not help but wonder what it was trying to say as I watched its body tense with each sound, its muscles rippling beneath its fur.

But just then, it hit me, and my eyes widened. We merpeople compensated for our lack of sight with our ability to hear. We could hear sounds coming from miles away in the water, and Lykos was currently submerged, his noises carried by the vibrations.

"Oh, no!" I panicked and looked around desperately, my heart racing as I tried to come up with a solution but couldn't. He was now knee-deep in the water, and I realized I needed to act quickly. With a sinking feeling, I realized that maybe if I swam away, and he couldn’t see me, he would stop trying to say whatever it was he was trying to communicate.

So I turned away from him and swam as fast as I could, my heart pounding in my chest. However, his sounds grew more desperate and louder the further I got. This wasn’t working. My body moved instinctively, reversing direction and propelling me back toward him.

"Please stop; they will hear you," I said softly, my voice trembling. I knew he probably couldn’t hear me, but to my surprise, he stopped, and I came to an abrupt halt, my heart racing.

"Get back, Lykos!" I called out, convinced that he couldn't have heard me, and for a moment, he remained motionless, leading me to believe that it was merely a coincidence that he stopped when I asked him to. But then he moved, stepping back as I had instructed, and my heart stopped. He could hear me.

LYKOS

Everything stopped as the sea girl and I made eye contact. Her heartbeat was all I could hear, rising and rising until it matched my own frantic pace.

Before I knew it, my legs moved of their own accord, inching closer to the water while my heartbeat thundered in my ears. "I need your help, please," I pleaded via mind link, hoping by some miracle she would hear me, and my heart skipped a beat as she approached.

“Please, I mean you or your people no harm. I am just trying to find my way back home," I said, desperately attempting to explain myself, but she did not respond. I realized she didn't understand me, and panic set in.

I started whining, desperate, hoping that maybe this time she would understand as she continued to slowly drift closer, her eyes locked onto mine. But instead of replying, she just stopped, and I saw something flicker in her eyes before she threw the fish she had in her hand.

I was grateful for the food, but I was more desperate to communicate. I needed a way out of here more than I needed food.

"Thank you for the fish, but I need your help!" My voice grew more desperate, as I wasn't just whining but growl-barking and howling. However, the sea girl remained motionless, looking at me. Then, suddenly, her heartbeat began to rise, and she looked around like she was scared, pushing me to submerge even more in the water.

My aquaphobia was the last thing on my mind as desperation took control of my very being. She was the only one I could approach on this island. I couldn’t let her go without understanding me.

My voice rose above the water, causing fear to engage in a desperate tug of war with desperation. I didn’t want to alert the seamen, but I had to take the chance to get through to this girl.

“Please, I won’t hurt you! Please, I swear!” I let out a howl, yet my vocalizations only served to intensify her fear, which was sweeping toward me in tangible waves.

She turned around and began swimming away, desperate to put some distance between us and I lost it and began howling with all my might as I called out to her.

“No! Please! Come back!” I pleaded, not even caring about the water that was rising higher and higher around me. “Please, don’t leave! Please!” My voice broke as I watched her go further and further away, and just as the sense of dread began to settle around me, she suddenly turned around.

My eyes widened, and my heart echoed in my ears as she swam back towards me. However, it stopped when she spoke, her voice trembling.

“Please stop; they will hear you,” she whispered tremulously, but I heard her, and her words cut through the chaos of my mind like a knife. I stopped and stood there in the water, panting and soaking, my eyes never leaving hers. However, she came to a halt as well, her heart skipping a beat, and I wondered if this was because I understood her.

My subconscious whispered that she was just as shocked as I was that I understood her, and as I opened my mouth to make a low sound to reassure her that I understood her, her next words brought my heart to a complete stop.

"Get back, Lykos!" she yelled, and for the second time since our encounter, the world and everything around disappeared, blending into the background as she uttered my name as if she had been calling it for eternity.

She knew who I was. But how? I was so taken aback that it took me a moment to realize I had not done what she asked, so I took a step back, watching her eyes widen, clearly indicating that she did not think I would understand her.

I needed to show her that I understood and meant no harm, so I lowered my body and head to demonstrate submission and respect, as well as that I posed no threat, and I heard a soft gasp escape her lips as I flattened my ears and kept my tail tucked between my legs as a sign of no aggression.

My eyes were soft as I looked up at her and began slowly blinking, desperate to gain her trust, before slowly and cautiously moving towards her, pausing frequently to gauge her reaction and ensure she felt safe.

Whining, I kept my voice low to show her that I understood her request without making any noise. I watched her carefully as her expression shifted from fear to cautious curiosity. She didn’t move. She stood there the entire time, her gaze fixed on mine, and my heart raced with each step, beginning to swell as the water grew too deep.

She did not move the entire time, and when I got close enough, I stopped, giving her the option of closing the gap between us, which I hoped she did, and then, for the first time since I began my submission, she moved, and I let out one last desperate prayer because this was it; I had done everything I could.

“Please don’t turn away.”