Macy remained huddled beside the barrel long after Jax left, crying until she had no tears left to shed, and hated herself for it. What did it solve? What had crying ever done to help her?

She was still stuck in this cavern, more miserable than before.

She rubbed her tired eyes with the heels of her hands and released a slow, shaky breath. She needed to do something. Anything but sit here, waiting.

Lowering her arms, Macy looked around the cavern, halting her gaze on the vegetation hanging at the sides of the waterfall. Her eyes followed their path up the steep cliffside.

She thrust the idea aside before it went any further. Climbing was suicide. One slip and she’d plummet to the rocks below. If that didn’t kill her instantly, she’d be left broken, suffering through immense pain until she finally expired — alone. When the time came, and desperation demanded the attempt, she’d try, but it wasn’t yet worth the risk.

That left escaping by water.

Macy stared at the dark side of the cave. Sunlight shone on the rippling surface, casting shattered reflections on the ceiling. Jax hadn’t been specific on how he brought her in here, but there had to be some sort of tunnel hidden in the darkness.

Her legs and backside protested as she uncurled herself and crawled to the edge of the island. She leaned forward and peered into the cerulean water. Small plants swayed amidst the rocks below. It was shallow now, but the tide was receding, and it was likely deeper toward the rear of the cave.

Sharp rocks dug into her palms as she clutched the edge.

I can do this.

This wasn’t the unforgiving ocean with huge, battering waves that would drag her into the abyss. It was an enclosed pool of water.

Shifting her legs around, she sat on the edge and paused. She ran her gaze over the frayed hem of her dress, over the splotches of dirt marring the once white, crisp fabric. Fingering a tear near her knee, she closed her eyes.

She had to believe Camrin was alive. She couldn’t…couldn’t consider the alternative.

Steeling herself, Macy slid into the water. It was chilly against her sun-warmed skin. She waded forward, and it slowly rose past her hips until it reached her chest. Her dress floated around her in the current produced by the waterfall.

Macy spent what felt like hours searching the bottom, feeling with her toes and stepping carefully. The water became too deep to stand in as she neared the shadowed area; she dove under a few times, but all she found was more rock. She stopped at the edge of the sunlight, treading water, and stared ahead. The cave wall in the back was visible, but she couldn’t see the bottom of the water.

It was just a little farther. A little more to explore. She bit her lip and urged herself forward, but her limbs didn’t respond.

There was no telling how deep it was, or what awaited in that darkness.

Defeated and exhausted, Macy returned to the island and hauled herself out of the water. She wrung out her dress before she collapsed.

After allowing her limbs a rest, she forced herself up and rummaged through the various containers, removing items and arranging them around her feet. She picked up a ratty brown teddy bear; it was missing an eye and one leg, and most of the stuffing had fallen out. Lowering it, she shifted her gaze to the other items; netting, rope, shells, tools both familiar and foreign, and objects she had no name for.

She glanced up at the opening in the ceiling; the sunlight had been intense through most of the day, and even with the cooling mist from the waterfall, it was hot. If she was going to stay here, some sort of shelter would be necessary.

Macy cleared the space, returning most of the items to their containers, and shifted two of the barrels so they were a couple meters apart from each other. She stood a fishing pole in each, securing the poles by stuffing objects around their handles. As she replaced the tools, she discovered a knife.

She peered over her shoulder, as though Jax would suddenly appear and pluck the knife away, before settling her attention on the blade.

It was old; that was clear by its lack of rust and light weight. This wasn’t metal forged after the colonization; it was an advanced material that couldn’t be produced on Halora. And the edge was sharp.

Taking up a length of rope, she trimmed it into several smaller pieces. Then she unfurled the canvas, cut holes at the corners to loop the rope through, and stretched it between the fishing poles. She pulled the free end tight and anchored it with a pair of heavy crates. When she was done, she wrapped the knife in a spare shirt and set it aside.

Macy stood in front of the makeshift shelter and surveyed her work; it was crude, but it was shady, and that was all that mattered right now. She crawled beneath the canvas, thankful to be out of the sun.

The shifting shadows on the ground marked the passage of hours as the sun progressed across the sky. When would Jax return? What if he didn’t come back at all? She pushed the thoughts aside, but the more she fought them, the more she thought of him.

He’d called his people kraken. The name was vaguely familiar; she’d heard stories growing up, mostly from her father and the other fisherman, about giant beasts, sea serpents, and monsters. But they were just that — stories. Myths. The sea was home to countless creatures, and long, uneventful voyages under the blazing sun could easily muddle a person’s perception. A three-meter-long fish became a thirty-meter fish fairly easily, under such circumstances.

But none of those stories had mentioned anything like Jax. How had humans lived on Halora for centuries without knowing of the kraken’s existence?

For all his similarities to a human, the differences were striking and unsettling; Jax was equally fascinating and frightening. But he hadn’t hurt her. His curiosity had mirrored hers as they examined one another.

She settled her hand over the spot on her neck where he’d touched her. He’d been gentle. He’d even called her delicate. In any other situation, she might have laughed. She was slim, but she wasn’t fragile; she worked as hard as any man or woman back home.

But she’d felt his strength. If he wanted to break her, he could do so with little effort.

Still, his touch hadn’t been unpleasant, nor did his face repulse her like it should have. She was ashamed to admit to herself that the contact between them had elicited a powerful reaction from her body. Despite her uncertainty and fear, she’d felt something when his tentacle slid along her inner thigh. Something there.

Macy squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her fists.

Jax wasn’t even human! How could her body betray her like that? Why would she respond to his touch when she rejected Camrin’s? Camrin, who had loved her for years, who was one of her best friends? Jax was holding her captive. She should be terrified of him.

She should hate him.

And yet…

By late afternoon, her stomach ached, and her tongue was thick and dry. She looked at the waterfall.

What choice did she have? It was fast-running water, as fresh and safe to drink as anything outside The Watch.

Macy grabbed a cup and a piece of cloth from one of the crates and lowered herself into the pool. She was just tall enough to stand on her toes and walk across, her chin brushing the surface. When she arrived at the narrow stone ledge beneath the waterfall, she set the cup down and hauled herself up. She rinsed the cup out and filled it through the cloth; without any way to boil it, it would have to be enough.

Pulling the cloth away, she brought the cup to her lips and drank. The water was heaven in her mouth; crisp, fresh, and cool. She drank three cups full before refilling it a final time. As she returned to the island, she held the cup of precious water high over her head.

She lay down under her shelter. Time passed slowly, and she was just drifting off when she heard a splash.

Jax made no attempt at stealth as he emerged from the water with three fish wriggling in the unyielding grip of his tentacles. The first thing to catch his attention was the makeshift shelter she’d constructed on the island. His eyes dropped as Macy, who lay beneath the raised canvas, lifted her head.

Her hair hung loose over her shoulders; it was fuller now that it had dried, and he imagined it would feel even softer. Seeing it brush over her skin made him long to touch her again.

She held his gaze as he approached, betraying no emotion. Jax was the first to look away; he pulled himself onto the land and stopped in front of the shelter, leaning forward to run the tip of a finger over the tight, neat knots she’d used to fasten the wind-cloth to the poles.

Macy had so easily repurposed these items to fit her needs. Was that one of the reasons these otherwise weak creatures were dangerous?

“You have been busy,” he said.

“I needed to get out of the sun.” She sat up. “Not like there was anything else for me to do.”

He tilted his head back. Only a sliver of light shone into the cave; soon, it would be full dark. But during most of the day — when the sky was clear — the island bore the brunt of the sunlight. Was it as uncomfortable to humans as it was to kraken?

Jax studied Macy. Perhaps it was a trick of the light, but her skin appeared pinker than it had before. She’d said human skin didn’t change like a kraken’s. “Your color is different. Does it take a long while for you to make such changes?”

She furrowed her brow and glanced at her shoulder, touching a finger to it. “It’s burned.”

“Burned? How?”

She stared at him in silence. After a few moments, she sighed and reached for the cup on the ground beside her. “I told you a human’s skin doesn’t change color. Not—”

“You lied.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I didn’t lie, and if you wouldn’t interrupt me, I’d tell you why.”

“You said a human’s skin does not change color. Your skin has changed color.”

“I said it didn’t change like yours.”

“Perhaps you must learn to couple your words with more accuracy.”

“You know what? I don’t have to talk to you,” she snapped, turning her back to him.

Jax lowered his brow and tightened his grip on the fish. He was curious to learn about humans — about her — but he had no patience for deceit.

“As you’ll have it.” He separated one of the fish from the trio and tossed it onto the ground before her. “You can eat in silence.”

The fish thrashed and flopped, gills flaring and mouth gaping. The glowing tendrils protruding from its head bobbed with its movement. She cast a single, fleeting glance at the creature.

Heat flared in Jax’s gut. He’d hurried back from the Facility to see her, to speak with her, to share a meal with her, and now she was ignoring him. If all humans had the potential to be so frustrating, he understood why his ancestors had risen against them.

He moved closer to the water and bent down to eat his share. The meat was tender, and the fish struggled only briefly.

“That’s so gross,” she muttered.

Jax twisted to look at her. She raised the cup to her lips and poured the contents into her mouth.

Placing the fish bones aside, he turned toward Macy fully. “What are you doing?”

She twisted, too, giving him more of her back, and maintained her silence.

He slithered over to her, and as he came alongside her, he leaned forward to see her tongue slip out of her mouth and wipe moisture from her lips. Without looking at him, she lifted her chin and turned away.

Jax reached around her with a tentacle and snatched the cup from her hand.

“Hey! Give that back!” She leapt up and reached for it.

Retreating to the shaft of sunlight, he angled the cup to look inside. Water. Was that the purpose of such objects? There was water everywhere. Why would anyone need a container to carry so small an amount?

He poured a bit of it over a suction cup. The humans called it fresh water, but to the kraken, it was foul. A waste of water.

“You are putting this inside your body? Is it your wish to die?”

Macy grabbed the cup out of his hold. She remained near, posture rigid, and glared at him. “Why should I bother answering your questions? You’ll just call me a liar.”

“Speak plainly, and I won’t have to.”

“Are all kraken rude, or is it just you?”

“Empty that before you hurt yourself, then eat.”

Macy raised the cup and gulped down the remainder of the water.

Cold flowed through Jax’s veins; his stomach twisted, and his skin involuntarily pulsed yellow. He had treated her poorly while she’d been in his care, but he hadn’t known it was possible to push a human to self-harm.

“You have doomed yourself,” he said quietly. “Why?”

“I haven’t done anything. I’d die if I didn’t drink it.”

“I…what does that mean? Fresh water is deadly.”

“To humans, salt water is deadly. We need fresh water to live.” She gestured to her arm. “Our skin changes color if we are ill or if we’re in the sun too long. It also changes if we’re angry or embarrassed, but it doesn’t change like yours.”

He shifted his gaze along her arm, following it to her shoulder. The single strip of pale flesh there — near the strap of her cloth covering — was in stark contrast to the angry red surrounding it. Would the same happen to a kraken after being in the sun for too long?

“You still need to eat,” he said; however pronounced the differences between them, all creatures needed food.

She glanced at the fish. Only its mouth moved now, opening and closing as it gulped air.

“I can’t eat that.”

Jax’s skin darkened. “I hunted for you. Do you reject it?”

“I said I can’t. I can’t eat it like that.”

Anger flared in his gut; success was never guaranteed on a hunt, making any catch precious. To see his effort — to see good food — so disrespected was appalling.

He clenched his jaw and forced his skin back to neutral.

If he wanted to learn about her people, about their artifacts, he needed to keep her content. Thus far, he’d failed miserably.

“Explain. If you would.”

“It’s raw.”

“It is fresh.”

She scrunched her nose. Jax didn’t know how to interpret the expression.

“It needs to be cooked. If I eat it raw, I could get sick and possibly die.”

Cooked. The word was familiar to him, though only vaguely. Perhaps it was one of the many words most younglings learned and promptly forgot — a word that had no meaning or use in the life of a kraken. A word from a different world.

“So…you can only eat plants?”

“I can eat the fish, but it needs to be cooked.”

“What is cooked?”

Macy tilted her head. “Do you know what a fire is?”

“Yes. The Computer uses strange smoke to put it out, when—”

“Computer?”

He snapped his mouth shut. It was more than he’d meant to give away, more than he should have said. “I know fire, Macy. That is all that’s important.”

“Oh no. You’re not dodging this question. I’ve answered yours, now you can answer mine. What computer?”

Frustrated, he expelled air through his siphons. Macy jumped back and stared at him with wide eyes.

“What is wrong?” he asked, his irritation dampened by confusion.

“I thought those were your ears!”

“They are my siphons.” He turned his head and pointed to the small hole behind his siphon. “These are my ears…earholes, if it is more accurate.”

She studied it intently for a moment before she looked away, scratching her arm. “Sorry for assuming.

He frowned at her posture and tone. “I am sorry, as well, Macy.”

Her eyes met his. “For what?”

“Have I not done the same, many times?”

“Yeah. I guess you have.” She stepped away, placed her cup on the ground beneath the canvas, and went to one of the numerous containers nearby. After emptying its contents into the other bins, she walked to the edge of the island and dunked the container into the water. She carried it to her shelter and set it down.

Using both hands, she picked up the fish and dropped it into the container.

“You need fire to cook the fish, so you may eat safely,” Jax said.

“Yes.” She settled her attention upon him. “But you still haven’t told me about this computer.”

Jax inhaled deeply. If he wanted her to answer his questions truthfully, he would have to extend her the same courtesy. But he couldn’t endanger his people.

“There is a voice in the walls, in the place my people dwell. It is called the Computer, and it speaks to us. Sometimes, it will answer questions, and sometimes it will give us warnings. Often, we do not understand what it means.”

Macy stood, her eyes widening. “You mean down there?” She pointed toward the tunnel. “In the sea?”

“I can tell you no more, Macy.”

“But you just told me you have a computer down there! That’s…that’s human technology!” She paused, eyes darting from side to side as though in thought. “What do your ghosts look like?”

If Macy chose to act against the kraken, what information would prove damaging? “Like humans,” he replied finally. “Sometimes we can see through them. Sometimes they flicker, or look…fuzzy.”

“They’re holograms. Recordings.”

“Holograms.” Ghosts seemed simpler and more fitting. “You are excited by this?”

“Yes! We never knew there was a settlement underwater.”

“I did not say it was underwater.”

“You didn’t have to. What do the holograms say?”

“What do you need to make your fire?”

“What do they say, Jax?”

“I can tell you no more, Macy.”

“But—”

“No more,” he growled.

Macy shut her mouth, pressing her lips tight, and curled her hands into fists. She took in a deep breath and released it slowly. “Right. I’m your prisoner.”

Her anger and resignation struck like a blow.

“Such information is not mine alone to give, Macy.”

“Right,” she repeated, and sat down in her shelter.

The uncertainty that filled Jax was foreign to him; he could do nothing but watch her, for a time, with no idea of how to proceed.

“What do you need to make fire, Macy? I will not allow you to starve.”

“So just let me go.”

“And what will I tell my people, when yours come to hunt us?”

“I said I wouldn’t tell anyone!”

Jax moved to the crates. He picked through their contents, unable to keep the history between humans and kraken from the forefront of his mind. It was too dark and bloody to be ignored. “If I gave you my word that no harm will come to you while you are here, would you believe me?”

“You already said you wouldn’t kill me, and you’re going through a lot of effort to keep me alive.”

He looked at her over his shoulder. That shadows were thickening; night would be upon them soon. “That doesn’t answer my question, Macy.

She sighed. “Yes. I believe you.”

Nodding, he turned back to the human artifacts. “That is more than I expected. For now, let it be enough.”

“It’s not enough for me! I didn’t choose to be here!”

“Tell me what you need to make a fire, and I will obtain it for you.”

She growled. “Wood — dry wood — and something to create a spark. Flint and steel, or one of those little fire starters.”

Jax sorted the Facility’s strange collection of items in his mind. He knew a few pieces of equipment that could start a fire without a doubt, but they were all tied into the buildings themselves; even if he could remove them, he doubted they’d work with that connection severed. But there was another possibility…

“Would heat work?”

“It’d have to be extremely hot.”

“I know of something that may help, but I’ll have to leave to obtain it.”

Macy was quiet for a time. When he glanced at her, she was staring at the sky.

“It’s going to be dark,” she said.

“Yes.”

“Is it…safe here?”

“Safer than anyplace out there.”

She nodded and dropped her gaze to her lap.

“I’ll be as fast as I can, Macy.”

He counted his heartbeats; she hadn’t yet replied by fifty. Moving quietly, he picked up her cup and filled it under the waterfall. She watched as he placed it on the ground beside her, but said nothing.

Her silence followed him into the sea.

The water was dark as he hurried to the Facility, and he saw no other kraken when he entered. He moved through the halls with more caution than usual; when he set his heart on being away, the place put him in strange moods. There was a tightness in his chest and a restless energy in his tentacles. He itched to move on.

He found the room he was looking for without encountering anyone.

The humans had kept many weapons in the Facility — a variety of guns, spears, knives, and harpoons. Though the kraken preferred the simpler tools, they’d always remained mindful of the weapons their old foes had wielded. They’d stand the best chance in using such devices, should the age-old conflict spark again.

Jax removed a heat gun from the charging rack. It was relatively small, fitting in one hand, and its case was sleek and glossy, but he knew better than to be fooled by its appearance. This was a dangerous weapon. He checked the charge and made sure its operation was disabled before exiting the Facility.

He saw no one on his way out. Nonetheless, he kept low and matched his skin to the bottom. That he’d returned so soon would be strange to most kraken; that he’d taken a heat gun would rouse true suspicion.

Moonlight — silvery and faint —shone through the surface by the time he reached the tunnel entrance. His hearts beat rapidly. He was bringing a weapon into the presence of a human. Perhaps he was as foolish as some of the others thought. Perhaps this would be his end.

He wanted to trust Macy. Wanted to believe her. But his people had made a point of remembering; the kraken would never forget the cruelty of humanity. She could guide him as necessary, but he would not allow her near the gun.

The cave was dark save for the weak light cast by the stars directly overhead when he emerged inside. His eyes didn’t adjust until he’d climbed onto the island. He paused midway across it.

Macy was curled in her shelter, wrapped in the cloth coverings from his collection. Her breathing was slow and steady; she was fast asleep. She’d stacked the driftwood that had been spread throughout the numerous containers in a pile beside one of the barrels.

Jax crept closer, lowering himself near to the ground. She seemed so tiny and serene. So distant from the frustration and sorrow she carried while awake. Holding his breath, he reached forward and brushed a strand of hair out of her face.

For all her oddities, she was fiercely alluring; heat stirred in his veins. Females were rare amongst his people — so few remained that the survival of their species depended upon keeping the females safe. Macy wasn’t kraken, but she seemed no less precious.

His gaze roamed over her features, and his hearts quickened.

He would be the one to protect her.