by L. S. O'Dea
The fish-man made a slight coughing sound. She jerked upright but forced herself to stay put. It still was not moving. She wasn’t in any danger. She filled up her jug again and poured it on the creature. It made another gasping sound.
She had to get it back into the water. She wrinkled her nose and placed both hands on its torso and shoved, trying to push it into the river without going any deeper into the water herself. It was cold to the touch and heavy. She tried again but it didn’t budge. Maybe, she could give it enough water so that it could get a deep breath and move itself. She filled up her bottle again, emptying the contents over the gills. She continued this for several minutes, but the creature remained still. This obviously wasn’t working.
The creature raised its arm, hitting her thigh. She flew out of the water, screeching. She shivered as she stood on the shore wiping at her leg to remove the memory of its clammy touch. Then its arm flapped again landing on its neck. Her face heated in embarrassment. It hadn’t been reaching for her. She straightened her shoulders, took a deep breath and tromped back into the river. No matter what, she was going to help this thing.
The hand that had landed on its neck moved in a grasping fashion. She bit her lip and cautiously lifted the flipper between the tips of her fingers and moved it out of the way. There were two slashes on the creature’s neck. They looked like the ones on its side except these were clogged full of...something. She grimaced as she dug her finger into a slit, pulling out mud and gunk. The foul stench of rotten vegetation and feces seeped out from the slime. She flung it into the water. She turned her head to the side, took a deep breath and held it. She dug into the second slit. When it was cleared a sharp intake of raspy breath came from the fish-man and then another.
She frowned. It was breathing air, but that didn’t make sense. Fish breathed underwater. She dumped water on the two slits that she’d cleared. The creature choked and gasped. It rolled away from her and clambered onto its knees. It seemed larger and more dangerous now that it was mobile. She scurried back to the safety of the shore. The fish-man took several deep breaths and then slowly dragged itself back into the water, disappearing under the waves.
She stared at the surface, her heart racing. There was no sign of it. The river flowed without a ripple of disturbance aside from the motion of the water itself. The fish-man was gone. She smiled and began to walk again, her step a little lighter. She had saved its life. She glanced warily back at the water. She and Travis used to play in the river. She wouldn’t be doing that again. If there were one of those things in there, there were more.
There was a slight rustle in the brush to her left. She jumped, turning to face the forest when a splash from the river drew her gaze. A flipper dipped under the water. Her shoulders sagged. Great. Now, I’m being hunted by land and sea. She moved a little away from the river but not too close to the forest. It was the best that she could do.
She continued on for another hour without a sound from the river or forest, which was encouraging. It was getting late. She was going to have to find somewhere to camp for the night. She shaded her eyes from the setting sun and groaned. She was an idiot. She’d been heading west. She should have been heading east. She must have gotten turned around in the thick underbrush. She started back the way she’d come. All this time had been wasted. An entire day was gone.
A mournful howling broke the silence of the forest. A shiver danced down her spine, raising the hair on her back. A cacophony of screeches and chirps echoed from the brush. Then there was silence, not a chirp or rustle to be heard. She swallowed around a lump in her throat. Whatever made that sound was close.
There was no movement or eyes shining back at her from the brush. She hurried along. A sharp yell pierced the air. She stumbled to a halt, tipping her head to better catch the sound. There was another shout. Guards on scent. Had the Almightys discovered her escape? No, that was impossible. It was probably just some Guards out hunting, but that didn’t solve her problem. If she were caught, she would be in deep trouble.
She had to get out of there, but which way? To her left was the river. She swallowed. She hadn’t seen the fish-man for a while, but it didn’t mean he wasn’t lurking nearby. To her right were the woods. If something were following her, it was hiding in there. She glanced back and forth, undecided. The Guards might scare away the forest predator. She bolted into the trees. There was no way she was going to outrun them, so she had to hide.
She ran blindly away from the sound of the Guards, her backpack slamming against her spine with each stride. If they catch my scent, they will find me. She skidded to a stop. The forest had ended. A rock wall loomed in front of her, stretching to both sides as far as she could see. Little crevices and divots peppered the wall, but it was too steep to climb. She had to make a choice. The wrong one would cost her freedom, maybe her life.
The trees rustled behind her. Too late. They found me. This had all been for nothing. Now, the best she could hope for was to be taken with the others. Her chest tightened. She had to make sure that her mom and Remy weren’t punished because she escaped. She raised her hands to her shoulders and slowly turned. Her breath caught in her throat. A Tracker, the deadliest of predators, stood on its back two legs, towering above her, front legs hanging down like arms. Brindle fur covered its body and its eyes glowed yellow in the shadowed forest. Its tongue lolled out the side of its mouth, exposing a row of sharp teeth on the other side. Someone should tell it that they no longer exist in the wild.
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
L. S. O’Dea sees things a bit differently than most people. This is probably a by-product of being the youngest of seven children in a time when TV was only worth watching in the evenings or Saturday mornings and there were no computers. Back then, kids had to amuse themselves and being five years younger than her closest sibling she was often the unwilling entertainment.
Since she was so much younger than her brothers and sisters, it was only reasonable that they knew how to do many things that she could not, such as read and write. One day, before she started kindergarten, she really wanted to learn how to spell her name. Her mother was busy cooking or cleaning (she had seven children to care for), so her brothers were instructed to help their baby sister.
After she learned how to spell her first and middle name (Linda Sue), she raced into the kitchen to share this new knowledge with her mother. She was so proud, standing tall and reciting the letters of her name. L-E-M-O-N H-E-A-D.
Her mother was not happy with her brothers and stopped what she was doing to teach Linda the correct way to spell her name. L. S. still receives a box of Lemonhead candy every year for Christmas.
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Also by L. S. O'Dea
Chimera Chronicles
Rise of the River Man
Feeding Fersia
Breaking the Brush Men
Rage Of Rattus Norvegicus
Leaving Level Five
Lake Of Sins
Lake of Sins: Secrets in Blood
Lake of Sins: Hangman's Army
Lake Of Sins: Betrayed
Whispers From the Past
Lake of Sins: Escape
Standalone
Lake of Sins Series Box Set Books 1-3
Chimera Chronicles
A Demon's Gift
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