Citrine (Deliverance #3)

4. Wroahk

4

Wroahk

Voices hover over me, but my entire body aches too much to respond. I try to grunt, but even that feels like an effort. My lungs are burning, unaccustomed to being used. I never liked surfacing or the heavy feeling of my body outside of the water.

I can't understand them. My eyes won't open so I can see them, but I can feel their disgusting limbs all over me. My tentacles won't respond to my commands to crush them.

What is happening?

Am I dying?

They're probing at the drum covering my left ear and a searing pain comes as something is pressed against it until it breaks through. Then they're dragging me onto a surface with sharp edges and a smooth top, the rough motion jarring my senses.

Suddenly I can understand their wet, garbled speech. "He'll be perfect for the auction. One of the matrons will throw all kinds of credits at us when they see both of those thick things. We can market it as a fuck hunt."

I try to grunt again, still unable to move any part of my body. I only hunt for myself. Never for others.

"Check the orders, Shriveled Skull. He's meant for the hunting ground."

"What? I just gave him a translator, upgrades for his libido, and the usual healing suite. The full package."

"I'm not dying because you can't read orders. Leave what nanites he has out of the report and get him in the chamber."

"Tell me that next time, Desiccated Testicles. I hate having to sequence suite removal. I'll just remove the translator, and no one will know."

I finally get my eyes to respond so I can see my enemy. They are blurry at first, but then I see wet gray skin, but not like my own. Instead, they leak some sort of pink substance.

I don't see gills, and their bodies look like they would sink. Drowning is a good option then, though that won't be satisfying. Their eyes look vulnerable to plucking out with a well-placed sucker, but I don't see any bones to break.

Ripping them apart a piece at a time will be the best way to kill them slowly. I commit their profiles to memory, along with their scent.

I hope their screams will be just as wet sounding as their voice.

The surface I'm on tilts, spilling my limp body into a confined space. It's too smooth to be a cave, and it smells odd.

"I hate the big ones with lots of limbs," one of them grumbles as I feel my tentacles tossed in with me one at a time.

The other one lets out a grunt. "Why would they want him as a trophy, anyway? The aquatic ones just shrivel up."

They plan to hunt me for sport? Many have tried.

Once my body responds, I will leave this odd cave and tear them apart so they know that no one ever succeeds.

"Let the hunters figure it out. We'll be rid of him as soon as we get the chamber sequenced. I'm extracting the translation nanites now."

Soon after that, I can no longer understand them.

They throw in the last of my tentacles, this time one of my mating ones, nicking the more delicate skin with some sort of claw. I look forward to finding out if their blood tastes sweet.

A clicking sound is followed by a hiss and as much as I resist it, I can't stay awake.

***

"This is disgusting," I mutter, perched on the edge of the lake, my tentacles twitching in discomfort.

Chilled freshwater laps at the shoreline, which differs from the shadowy depths I am accustomed to. The freshwater doesn't suit my skin, sending an uncomfortable itch crawling beneath the surface.

I wish to go back to the familiar embrace of salt water, where I can hide and hunt my prey with ease.

Even if it is a complete disdain, I have to admit that this lake is livable, if barely. The warmth of the water grates at me, but I live through it, knowing I have little choice in the matter.

"For how long?" I question with a sigh.

My back presses against the rough surface of one of the rocks lining the edge of the lake. Green tentacles stretch out into the water, some lazily drifting while others grip the rocks with a firm hold.

My aquatic-blue skin—perfect for blending in with my native environment—contrasts against the rough brown rocks as I let my lower body submerge in crystal water.

The rhythmic lapping of the waves against the shore lulls my senses, while the melodic chirping of not-food in the nearby trees fills the air. Too hard to catch and not even worth the trouble.

Their sounds rasp at my nerves, and I wonder if it might be worth flinging rocks just to silence them.

My gaze catches the horizon where the lake meets the purple and green sky. I take a moment to take in the scene before me. The lake stretches out, its green-blue waters shimmering in the sunlight. It's waiting to swallow the sun, the light dimming.

Beneath the surface, myriad fish dart and weave, their movements a mesmerizing dance in the water. As I observe the aquatic life below, I can't help but feel a sense of detachment.

Unlike these darting creatures, I am an amphibian, straddling the line between land and water. It's a distinction that sets me apart. Our species are superior, of course.

A sudden commotion in the water draws my attention. The fish that were swimming in languid movements, now leap into the air with frantic desperation.

Their struggle for survival is a worthless effort for something so short-lived.

I narrow my eyes as I spot the green menace making its way toward me. This one is different, larger and fiercer than the others. It stares at me intensely, revealing its intent to harm and eat me.

These creatures ruled the lake before I arrived, and so they still challenge my dominance, slow to learn.

How could they possibly think of me as an easy meal?

I twitch one of my upper limbs at the thought, the graspers flicking a dismissive gesture, mocking the very idea that these creatures could overpower me. A world far harsher than this one shaped who I am.

Still, the predator moves with lethal purpose, its sharp teeth gleaming under the water. I can see its muscular form rippling as it swims, each movement precise and deadly. Its predatory eyes are fixed on the tentacles trailing behind me.

"You will lose," I taunt, graspers flashing insults at it.

With a flick of my tentacle, I ward off one of the approaching creatures I have named Many Teeth because of their rows of sharp fangs.

This one certainly leaves quite an impression. The beast hesitates, tries to bite me again, eyes narrowing as it assesses me. I relish its uncertainty. It knows, despite its menacing appearance, it stands no chance against me.

Even if it finds another of its kind to attack me together.

"Go on, swim away," I mock, watching as it leaves me alone.

It knows better than to challenge me again. I am the sole threat of worth here, and these waters are now my domain.

So, here I am, stranded in this place, a lone predator adrift in a sea-less stretch of unfamiliarity. Even in this strange and hostile environment, the instincts of my people remain unchanged.

Survival is all that matters , and I will do whatever it takes to ensure that I emerge victorious in this deadly game.

Memories of their attack grip me, its hold tightening like a shenrase's jaws. Anger surges in a fizzling that demands release. I punch the water with all my strength with my most powerful tentacles, sending shockwaves rippling across the lake's surface.

The warm liquid splashes against my skin, but it does nothing to soothe the rage churning inside me. I pull back up their musty scent, their slick gray skin and those limbs that would make them helpless in the water, though everything else about them suggested they should have been aquatic, just like me.

To be captured by such a weak species…

I remember the voices, the rough treatment, the feeling of utter helplessness.

It defied the laws of my nature as a creature.

I hate fresh water. All it does is twist my memories, pulling them in an endless tide. I get out.

I writhe along the edge of the lake, my tentacles dragging lazily behind me. On one side, the dense forest encroaches upon the water's edge. On the other, jagged rocks hold back the water and mark the domain of the land-dwelling creatures.

Droplets of water cascade from my body and splatter onto the murky, dry plants that line the shore. The sight before me differs from the barren landscape on the other side.

Here, vibrant green plants sway in the gentle breeze, punctuated by bursts of color from others that dot the terrain. Small creatures flit through the air, their delicate wings make fluttering sounds.

Nothing like the movements and sounds underwater. Foreign and wrong.

It's just another patch of land I never wanted to visit, indifferent to my presence.

What's the point of it all if you can't eat it?

I continue my trek along the water's edge, my thoughts blank. The world around me holds no temptation, no significance to survival. It's just another obstacle.

As I move farther away from the water, the sounds of the forest fade into the background, replaced by the hum of small crunchy things that don't taste good and the occasional chirp of a flying creature.

I pay them no mind, my senses attuned only to the hunt.

A sudden thunderous crash shatters the peace of the scene, jolting me out of my stalking. My gaze snaps toward the source of the disturbance, my tentacles instinctively tensing in readiness.

It is far away, but I can still make out enough details. Rocks fly and a puff of dust rises.

I cock my head at the intensity, my curiosity piqued by the chaos unfolding before me. Shards of something glint in the sunlight as they scatter through the air, propelled by the force of the impact.

My eyes widen as I catch sight of a small figure tumbling out of the wreckage, their form obscured by the billowing dust and debris.

"The sky sent me my enemy," I breathe out.

A potential source of sustenance lies before me, hopefully devoid of the ever-present taste of mud.

Without hesitation, I abandon my path toward the forest and turn my attention to the rocks, drawn by the promise of fresh food. The thought of hot blood fills me with a dark thrill.

As I propel myself through the water, my tentacles undulate with controlled power, lifting me toward my target.

The anticipation courses through my veins, driving me forward with an almost primal urgency. Every instinct in my body screams for me to close the distance, to claim my prize before it slips away.

With each stroke of my tentacles, I draw closer to my quarry, my anticipation building with each passing moment.

As I approach the rocky shore, I can feel the excitement bubbling within me. What awaits me on land? With eager anticipation, I begin to climb the rocks, using my tentacles to propel myself upwards.

Then the scent hits. It wafts into my gills, registering in my brain in a way I've never experienced before.

Normally, scents hold no sway over me, but today is different. This scent stirs something within me, awakening sensations I've never known. It was as if I could truly smell for the first time, and the effect it had on me is… unexpected.

Terrible. The smell is terrible.

"It's disgusting," I growl, my voice tinged with disdain.

I can't comprehend how something so foul could permeate the air around me so completely. It hangs heavy, assaulting my senses. It feels as though some putrid stench has tainted the very essence of the world around me.

I shake my limbs in disbelief, trying to rid myself of the offensive odor that seems to cling to my skin like a suffocating shroud. But no matter how hard I try, I can't escape it.

"It's like… like something rotting," I mutter, my stomach churning at the thought. It even makes me forget about my meal, which has never happened.

My tentacles try to flick off the smell, the putrid odor clinging to the air like a suffocating fog. My gaze darts frantically, searching for the source of this repugnant scent, but it remains elusive, hidden somewhere.

It reminds me of my enemy, the ones who took me, but isn't quite the same.

I lose vital time that would be better spent climbing in my attempt to be rid of it.

Then, from the other side of the stones, I hear it—a tiny grunt, barely audible over the gentle lapping of the waves. My eyes widen in alarm as I realize that I'm not alone. My meal, who fell from the streaking silver shell, is nearby, concealed from view by the rugged terrain.

Ignoring the smell, with a swift and decisive motion, I allow my tentacles to lift me, propelling me upward with effortless grace. Liquid trails behind me, droplets shimmering in the sunlight as I ascend the rocky outcrop.

Each jagged edge of the stone presses against my slick skin. The rough texture of the rocks scrapes against my flesh. It is a sensation that is both exhilarating and uncomfortable.

I ignore the discomfort, my focus fixed on the mysterious presence that awaits me above.

And then, finally, I reach the top.

With a surge of effort, I pull myself over the edge, my eyes scanning the rocky terrain for any sign of movement. And there, huddled against the base of a weathered boulder, I see it—a figure cloaked in shadow, its features obscured by the dim light of the setting sun.

There is my prey.