361 Years After Landing

Aymee smiled as she walked along the beach. The sunlight warmed her skin, sand squished between her toes, and she knew he was watching.

Arkon.

Her mysterious, otherworldly admirer was out there, hidden in the undulating cerulean water.

She shifted the weight of the metal canister to her left arm and picked her way through a patch of rocky ground to the lower beach. It was a familiar place, little changed by the passage of time. The place she and Macy, her best friend since childhood, had called their own — before a tragic accident had taken the life of Macy’s sister.

After that, Macy refused to go near the water. Aymee had little reason to go to the sea without her friend.

Now, the ocean sang to her, and she counted the days between these exchanges. It was worth the wait just to get little glimpses of him.

She’d met Arkon only once, three months earlier. Their encounter had been hurried, and Arkon remained hidden throughout — except for the fleeting moment during which he’d shown her his face. She’d painted his violet eyes, with their alien pupils, many times since, had seen them in her dreams, but it wasn’t enough. She longed for him, not his memory.

The wind flipped her hair into her face. She tucked it back and glanced up at the rock formation ahead. As a child, it had reminded Aymee of a krull, an animal native to the nearby jungle. They were tall, powerful beasts with long necks, slender horns, and purple fur. Stone stretched from the seaside cliffs here and dipped into the water, resembling a krull with its head lowered to drink.

Few townsfolk came to this beach, and fewer still to this part of it. That made it an ideal location for these supply exchanges.

A metallic glint caught Aymee’s eye as she approached the cliffs. A second container sat nestled amidst the rocks. With anticipation thrumming through her limbs, she quickened her steps.

Settling onto her knees, she stood her canister in the sand beside her, and lifted Arkon’s container from the recess in the cliffside. Something rattled inside.

Warmth blossomed across her chest.

She tucked her canister in the empty space, gathered the container Arkon had left, and stood.

The loose material of her blouse and skirt fluttered around her as she dragged her gaze over the restless, sparkling waves. He was out there, waiting, but she’d never spot him unless he wanted to be seen.

Why didn’t he approach her? Why did he hide from her?

Releasing a wistful sigh, she went inland, giving the ocean — and Arkon — her back. She paused near a rock and slipped her sandals on before resuming her walk. Soon, soft sand gave way to dirt and vegetation. The briny scent of the sea mingled with the smell of plants and earth.

She followed the footpath leading back to town for fifteen or twenty meters before stepping off. Weaving through tall, vibrant indigo capeweed flowers, large, green-and-violet-leafed bushes, and tangled vines of crimson creeper, she placed her container down and knelt near the edge of the cliff.

Her heart raced as she reached forward and parted the vegetation in front of her.

The beach stretched out in either direction below her; to the right, it snaked along the coastline, narrowing into a pale ribbon with distance. To her left, it widened until it hit the bulge in the cliffs that ended in the krull-rock, where the strand passed beneath the hollow in the formation.

While the beach was finite, the ocean stretched into infinity, incomprehensibly large. The water darkened to navy blue and then to midnight as it neared the horizon. The evening sun would be swallowed by the sea within a few hours. Its soft orange glow met the blue of the sky in the beginning of a nightly struggle against encroaching darkness.

It was beautiful, and that beauty would only intensify as sunset neared. But it couldn’t hold her attention now.

“I know you’re there, Arkon,” Aymee mumbled, sweeping her eyes over the rolling surf. Beads of sweat trickled between her breasts and down her back, the humid air made more suffocating by the vegetation around her.

Finally, her waiting paid off.

The incoming waves broke around a vague shape. A moment later, the form gained definition — Arkon’s leanly-muscled arms and broad shoulders emerged, followed by his tapering torso, and finally…his tentacles.

“There you are,” she whispered.

He grew more distinct as the water retreated and he moved inland. His skin changed to match the sand, but his camouflage was imperfect in open air and direct sunlight. She wished he’d revert to his natural color — the loveliest blue-gray she’d ever seen — but understood why he didn’t.

There was no telling how the people of The Watch would react if they knew a kraken came ashore so close to their town once a week. The townsfolk gossiped incessantly about the night Jax — one of Arkon’s kind — had broken free of a holding tank in the warehouse and escaped into the darkness of the sea with Macy. That only a handful of people truly knew what’d happened didn’t stop anyone from talking.

Most were unable or unwilling to understand that Macy had chosen to go with Jax. All they’d seen was a monster. If only they knew of the intelligence, beauty, and prowess Aymee had witnessed. Would it have changed their minds, or instilled more fear in them?

It didn’t matter. There was no reason to call unnecessary attention to the current arrangement.

Arkon stopped at the cliffside. He twisted, checking his surroundings.

She eased back, allowing the vegetation to close slightly, but she couldn’t look away from him. Though they were impossible to see from this distance, her imagination filled in the rich violet of his eyes.

He turned back to the cliff and pulled the canister from the recess. Removing the lid, he reached inside the container and withdrew a rolled-up piece of paper, dangling it by the string around its middle.

It was a painting she’d done for him of the nighttime jungle.

Her heart thudded; she’d never cared much about what people thought of her art one way or another, though she couldn’t deny her satisfaction at bringing smiles to people’s faces. Her friends’ opinions mattered, but Macy and Camrin were always kind.

She found herself wanting Arkon to like her painting with all her heart. She’d wanted to give him a little piece of the land to call his own, but she couldn’t deny that she’d given a tiny bit of herself in the process.

Smiling broadly, Arkon returned the painting and resealed the container.

Aymee watched him return to the sea. Though it should have appeared awkward or unsteady, there was a strange grace to the way he moved on land. Within a few seconds, he disappeared in the waves.

Sitting back on her heels, Aymee dropped her hands, allowing the vegetation to close. She twisted around, dragged over the nearby canister, and removed the lid.

Within were three folded pieces of paper — one addressed to Aymee, one to Camrin, and one to Macy’s parents. She reached inside and shifted the papers. Her fingers brushed over something small, hard, and smooth.

Aymee picked up the rock and held it in her palm. It was dark gray, the edges rounded. Thin, wavy lines, flowing like ocean waves, had been carved over its entirety.

She grinned and closed her fingers around it, pressing her hand to her chest. When she’d received the first such stone in their first exchange, weeks ago, she’d thought it a gift from Macy. But Macy said she hadn’t sent it when Aymee asked in their following correspondence.

The stones were from Arkon.

Aymee’s first glimpse of a kraken — Jax in his holding tank — had been breathtaking. The kraken were part human and part other, and wholly fascinating. She hadn’t feared him, especially after Macy had spoken about her relationship with Jax.

Aymee had been intrigued. She hadn’t thought it possible to be more enraptured…until Arkon.

One look into his entrancing, alien eyes, and her fascination had deepened into something more like obsession.

For the first time in her life, Aymee had been envious of her friend. Macy deserved happiness, but Aymee wanted that same happiness, that freedom, that…love. The guilt that followed her jealousy hadn’t assuaged her desires.

Lowering her hand, she examined the stone again. They were gifts, perhaps even courting gifts, but why hadn’t he come to her? Why did he always hide until she was out of sight?

“Stop being so mopey.” She sighed, set the rock in the canister, and replaced the lid.

Rising, she brushed off her legs and skirt, tucked the container under her arm, and returned to the footpath. She followed it through a dense swath of shady, cloying jungle, grateful for the wider dirt road it led to when she emerged.

Sheep and cattle grazed in the fields and pastures on either side of the road, feeding on a purple and green mix of Earth and Halorian grass. She walked toward town without paying much attention to the animals; their lowing and bleating was part of the ambience, mingling with the sound of the leaves rustling in the wind and the ocean crashing ceaselessly against the shore.

She didn’t give in to the brief but powerful urge to return to the beach.

The first part of The Watch to come into view — as always — was the lighthouse perched high on the promontory. Now that the wet season had come, the light was on more frequently, alerting townsfolk and fishermen of the sudden storms that were so common this time of year.

As she crested the final rise leading into town, the other buildings became visible — dwellings crafted of metal, concrete, and wood, many of them having stood since the first colonists touched down on Halora.

This was home.

And yet…

With Macy gone, Aymee felt disconnected from the people here — even from her parents and her only other close friend, Camrin. They encouraged her well enough when it came to her art, but none of them truly understood the compulsion to create, the joy of expression. The townsfolk appreciated her works, but most seemed to think her time would be better spent on more practical pursuits.

As though spending the majority of her days tending to their ailments wasn’t contribution enough.

She huffed, blowing her curls out of her face.

She wouldn’t give it up.

The smell of bread drifted to Aymee on the breeze as she approached her house. Unlike many of the other buildings, this one was adorned with brightly-colored paint — flowers of all shades, animals and birds, even a simplified portrait of Aymee and her parents she’d painted when she was young.

They hadn’t minded her using the house as a canvas. Her mother, Jeanette, had even encouraged her to decorate the interior walls.

Opening the door, Aymee stepped inside and inhaled the sweet aroma of freshly baked bread.

“Mom?”

“In here!” Jeanette called from the kitchen.

“Okay, I’ll be there in a minute.” Aymee hurried to her room, which had been added as an extension to the original building sometime in the past.

The room wasn’t large — her single bed was shoved into one corner, leaving room for a small nightstand, a dresser, and a table cluttered with brushes, papers, bottles of paint, and an easel.

Setting the canister on her bed, she opened it and plucked out the stone. She ran her fingertips over its tiny carvings before adding it to the jar on her nightstand, which held the other gifts he’d given her — each stone a different size, shape, and color, and each with a unique pattern etched into it.

After removing the folded letters from within, she sealed the container and stood it on the floor against the wall to await the next exchange.

Seven long days to go.

“From Macy?” Jeanette asked from the doorway.

Aymee turned toward her mother. Jeanette’s hair, skin, and eyes were darker than Aymee’s, but the resemblance between them was clear; her youthful spark and natural beauty made them look more like sisters than mother and daughter.

In that moment, Aymee was overcome with thankfulness — her parents’ easy demeanors meant she didn’t have to keep these secrets from them. She’d always been close to her mother, and she’d adored her father since her earliest memories. He’d never pushed her into the family business; his work as the town’s doctor had fascinated her from a young age, and she’d been the one to start following him and her brother to the clinic every day to learn all she could.

When their medical scans had revealed Macy was pregnant with Jax’s child, it had been Aymee’s father, Kent, who made sure there’d be no record of it for the other townsfolk to find. Somehow, though it seemed impossible, Aymee loved him a little more that day.

“Yeah.” Aymee smiled. “She didn’t write back last week, which isn’t like her.”

“I’m sure her parents are eager to hear from her then, too.” Jeanette’s returned smile quickly faded. “There are some strangers here from Fort Culver. They’ve asked the town council to hold a meeting this evening.”

Aymee’s stomach knotted with unease. “Why?”

“They haven’t said anything yet. I was waiting for you to get home, so we could go together. Your father’s already there waiting for us.” Jeanette dipped her chin, indicating the letters in Aymee’s hand. “You can bring those. I’m sure Camrin and the Sinclairs will be there.”

“How long have these strangers been here? I hadn’t heard anything about it until now.” Aymee removed the letter with her name and tucked it beneath the jar of rocks.

“They came into town when you were on your walk.”

“And they’ve already got a meeting set up?”

“You know as much as I do at this point.”

“Okay.” Aymee took a deep, steadying breath. There was no reason to be anxious. Strangers came into town from time to time; it was just a little variety sprinkled into the everyday routine. “Let’s go.”

They went outside and walked toward the town hall side-by-side. Many more townsfolk were emerging from their homes and heading the same direction.

“Evening Jeanette. Hi Aymee!” Maris Everett called as she approached. She was a few years older than Aymee, and, though they’d lived next door to one another all their lives, they’d never been more than acquaintances.

“Hello, Maris,” Jeanette said. “Thank you again for the muffins this morning. I had to chase Kent out the kitchen when he tried to come back for a third within ten minutes of you dropping them off.”

Maris laughed. “It was the least I could do after what he and Aymee did for my James.”

“How is he?” Aymee asked.

“Better. He’s still in a lot of pain, and he won’t be back to work for a while, but thanks to you two he still has both feet — even if he’s short a few toes.” The woman’s smile was at once grateful and sorrowful as she shook her head. “I don’t know what we would’ve done otherwise, and if he hadn’t…”

“I’m glad they got him to us in time. Vorix have fast-working venom,” Aymee said. James had been extremely lucky. Vorix — long-bodied, rough-skinned creatures that used several sets of short, clawed legs to climb trees — injected deadly venom with their breakaway fangs. Had it not been for James’s heavy-duty footwear, the fang would have been embedded in his foot and continued pumping poison into his bloodstream.

If the man had taken the bite anywhere else, he would have died. His screams of pain — which had only stopped when, exhausted and overwhelmed, he’d passed out — still echoed in Aymee’s mind.

Maris caught Aymee’s hand, gently bringing her to a halt. “You and your father saved my husband. I keep thinking about all those what-ifs, and how I haven’t had nearly enough time with him, or how our child would have had to grow up without his father, and I… I just can’t imagine it.” She squeezed Aymee’s hand. “There’s nothing I can give you that would repay what you’ve done for him, but I can tell you this: take what you want. Take it all. Do not hesitate, because it could all be gone faster than you can blink.”

Aymee’s mind went to Macy. Macy, who hadn’t cared what others might’ve thought when she chose what she wanted — Jax.

Arkon’s face rose to the surface of Aymee’s thoughts, but she dismissed it. He was a fascination, a curiosity sparked by Macy’s stories about the kraken. There was no future for Aymee with Arkon, especially when he was unwilling to emerge from hiding.

She’d laugh at herself if it wouldn’t make her look insane; of all the men on Halora, the only one who held her interest so strongly wasn’t even human.

“Thank you, Maris.” Aymee gave the woman’s hand a comforting squeeze in return. “My father and I don’t want anything in return. It means everything that we were able to help him. But I’ll take your words to heart.”

Maris smiled and released her.

“We’d best hurry,” Jeanette said. They quickened their steps toward the town center.

The meeting hall was one of the largest buildings in The Watch. It served as a gathering place both for meetings and recreation; because resources were too precious to leave such a space unused, it doubled as a pub.

Dozens of people filed through the open doors, from beyond which the din of a hundred simultaneous conversations spilled out. Aymee kept beside her mother as they squeezed inside. She stood on her toes and searched until she spotted her father, who was waving his hand.

She tugged on her mother’s sleeve and motioned toward her father. Maris smiled and shooed them away, going to her own family.

The heat and noise of at least two hundred people was overwhelming. Aymee clung to her mother’s hand as they wove through the crowd, slowly working their way toward Kent. Whatever the meeting was about, the allure of newcomers had apparently piqued the town’s interest.

The crowd’s palpable curiosity did nothing to quell Aymee’s unease.

When they reached Kent, he leaned forward and kissed them each on the cheek. Aymee took his arm and leaned against him, turning her attention to the front of the room.

Several members of the town council were on the small stage, but it was the unfamiliar faces alongside them that caught Aymee’s eye. One of the strangers stood closer to the councilmen than the rest — a handsome man who looked to be in his early thirties with short, dark hair, a stern expression, and serious eyes. His gaze roved over the crowd as people funneled into the hall, but there was no restlessness in it, only alertness. His clothes were the deep purples and greens of the jungle, and he wore a large knife on his belt.

Six other rough-looking men in similar attire stood behind him.

Culver Hunters.

Though Aymee had never seen a Hunter before, their reputation was well-known in The Watch. The Hunters of Fort Culver fearlessly battled the most dangerous beasts on Halora and always came away the victors. They were said to travel from town to town, thinning out the populations of such creatures to keep people safe.

That they’d come here now, so soon after the events involving Jax and Macy, boded ill.

By the time the influx of townsfolk stopped, everyone was crammed into the hall shoulder-to-shoulder. Aymee had only seen the place so packed once before — the day Jax arrived. Sweat beaded on her forehead and trickled down her back as the air grew stuffy. She wrinkled her nose at the stench of unwashed bodies. Many of the townsfolk had likely just come in from the fields.

Walter Bailiff, the head councilman, stepped forward and raised his hands. A hush spread through the crowd, leaving only the occasional coughs or whispers.

“Thank you.” He ran a hand down the front of his shirt, smoothing the fabric. His cheeks reddened; despite his aptitude for organization and mediation, Walter had never seemed comfortable speaking in front of crowds. “In light of…recent events, we have some visitors who’ve come to The Watch. I don’t want to put my foot in my mouth and explain it wrong, so…”

He stepped back, gesturing to the dark-haired man from Fort Culver. The stranger took Walter’s place at the front of the stage. Despite his serious features, his smile was warm.

“Let me echo Mr. Bailiff and thank all of you for coming on such short notice. My name is Randall Laster. Me and my men have come all the way from Fort Culver, and let me tell you, your town is paradise after that long on the road.”

Laughter filled the room.

“I think most folk call us Culver Hunters, or something along those lines. We call ourselves rangers, but that doesn’t matter much. It’s been a long time since any of us came this way, so I’d like to take a few moments to explain what it is we do, and why we’re here.”

“Excuse me,” someone muttered.

Aymee turned her head to see Macy’s father, Breckett Sinclair, carefully squeezing his broad-shouldered frame through the crowd. He stopped beside her, his mouth hidden in his thick beard.

“This can’t be good,” Aymee whispered to him.

He shook his head. Even if she couldn’t see his mouth, his eyes were troubled.

She took Macy’s letter out of her pocket and passed it to Breckett. “Here.”

He tucked it away, and they both returned their attention to Randall.

“I’m sure, like in most places, everyone here has a job to do.” He paced slowly along the stage, boots thumping on the wood, hands clasped behind his back. “Our job is simple. We hunt the creatures that give people trouble. Doesn’t matter if it’s a snatcher plant taking your babies or a pack of krull eating your crops. We control their numbers so humanity can thrive.”

Aymee grabbed a handful of her skirt and pressed her lips together.

“I got a pemling problem! Want to come deal with that?” a woman called out.

The crowd laughed again. Pemlings were fist-sized vermin that could eat entire silos of food if they weren’t kept in check.

Randall raised a finger, his smile tilting to one side. “That’s a bit smaller than what we tend to specialize in, ma’am, but we’d be more than happy to come take a look. Afraid to say we didn’t come all this way to deal with some pemlings.”

“Then what are you here for?” Aymee asked.

Pausing, Randall turned his head toward her. When their eyes met, she saw an unsettling spark of interest in his gaze. “We’re here to help The Watch, Miss…?”

“Help us how? We’ve been doing well.”

“He’s here for the sea monster,” another person said from the left side of the room. “Aren’t you?”

Aymee looked in the speaker’s direction but couldn’t tell who’d said it. Her stomach twisted. “He’s not a monster.”

“Aymee,” Jeanette warned quietly, catching her daughter’s hand.

The scrutiny — and interest — in Randall’s gaze intensified. “We don’t always follow rumors across Halora, but the story we heard from this town... Monster or not, this thing must be viewed as a threat until we know more about it.”

“He is no more a threat than you or me.” Aymee couldn’t stand and listen to this in silence. “Jax had many opportunities to hurt people, but he didn’t. He let himself get captured. He obeyed every instruction given to him without resistance. Even when he escaped, not a single person was harmed. How could you consider him a monster?”

Commotion erupted in the hall; everyone in town had their own version of those events, though almost everyone in town had been either in the comfort of their homes or here in the town hall, drinking, when Jax escaped. The only people who knew the truth would never betray Jax and Macy.

“He caused no trouble,” shouted one of the men who’d guarded Jax.

Randall silenced them by lifting his hands in the same manner Walter had. “I don’t want everyone to argue about it. We’ve heard some stories, and we came to sort it all out. We might carry some big guns, but we’re on your side. If this Jax is on your side, too, we won’t have any problems. But until we know that, without a single doubt, we must treat him as a dangerous beast. Because that is what will keep people safe.”

“He’s not a beast!” Aymee snapped. “We’ve lived here in peace for years before he came, and we still live in peace months after he left. You’re here for no one but yourselves!”

One of the other rangers — older than Randall, with short blond hair and a cruel grin — barked a laugh.

“Aymee!” Kent pulled Aymee back, and she stumbled into him.

Randall’s smile faltered, and his brow creased. “I understand emotions are high in the wake of what happened here. I’m not going to take offense. We came to help, and that’s what we intend to do. Our first goal is to determine what that will entail.”

Breckett cleared his throat. “What she says is true. That beast, as you call him, brought my daughter back after we thought her dead at sea. She was badly injured, and he exposed himself to make sure she got the care she needed. The whole time he was locked in that tank, all he did was ask about the welfare of my daughter. He is not a monster.”

“I should very much like to speak with your daughter, sir,” Randall said.

“That’s not possible.”

“So, he didn’t bring her back in time?”

“He did, and thanks to him, Doc Rhodes, and Aymee, my Macy lives.”

Randall’s gaze shifted from Breckett to Aymee. “Me and my men would love to talk with the two of you further over the coming days.” He looked out over the rest of the crowd. “Anyone with information, we ask that you share it with us. Our job is to defend the humans of Halora. That means The Watch, and every other town on this planet. We can’t make a decision that will potentially affect everyone on this world based on some anecdotes.

“Please, rest assured, we’re not here to disrupt your lives. We’re not here to stir up trouble. We’re here to prevent any more of it. If this Jax is truly harmless, we’ll move on.”

The crowd burst into animated conversation as Randall stepped back. It took Walter several minutes to quiet them down enough to be heard. He thanked everyone for their time and wished them a good evening. The townsfolk trickled through the open doors and into the night.

Aymee finally released the fabric she’d held in her fist and stretched her stiff fingers before smoothing the wrinkles out of her skirt. Randall had a certain charm, a confidence and compassion that should have eased her fears.

But even if the men with him looked rougher, Randall had the hard features of someone who’d scraped out a living in the wilds.

She didn’t want to think of Arkon becoming their target, but it seemed all too possible.

“Be careful, Aymee,” Breckett said. “I know you’re trying to protect them. I want to do the same, but we don’t know these men. We don’t know what they’re willing to do.”

“What were you thinking?” Jeanette demanded.

Aymee winced. “I know. I know. I shouldn’t have spoken out like that, but I couldn’t… They’re not monsters!”

“We know that,” her father said, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder, “but they don’t.”

“I’ll talk to him,” Breckett rumbled, glancing at the stage.

Aymee’s brows lowered as she followed Breckett’s gaze. Randall and his rangers were talking with a few of the councilmen; his eyes flicked to Aymee and held. He smiled.

Aymee looked away. She needed to warn Arkon, but it was another week before the next exchange.

“Just be careful, Aymee,” Breckett said.

“I will. Thank you, Breckett.”

They left the town hall together, saying their goodnights to Macy’s father once they were in the square and the crowd had thinned. When they arrived home, Jeanette went to the kitchen to finish preparing dinner while Aymee excused herself, anxious to read Macy’s letter.

She sat on her bed and reached for the letter, pausing as she lifted the jar of stones. Each of them had been selected and adorned just for her. Heart warm, she smiled. It was a small comfort, but every little bit mattered.

Sliding the paper from beneath the jar, she unfolded it. Macy’s familiar handwriting was scrawled across the page, and though shorter than usual, the letter conveyed an abundance of happiness. Aymee wished they were together to share in that feeling.

One of the lines gave her pause. She read it again, and her lips spread into a grin. Aymee leapt from the bed and ran into the kitchen.

“It’s a girl!” she shouted. “Macy had a girl, and she’s perfect!”