Unfamiliar Ground
You know you're lucky the local fish let you frolic with them, seeing as how you ate three of them the day before. You feel so hungry lately. And driven, by urges you don't understand, to venture into more shallow water. You've never been so close to the shore, not in the more than 200 years of your young life in the sea.
You admire their delicate streaming fish tails, the vibrant colored stripes and fan-like fins. Why can't your dull scales be even half so pretty?
Breaking the surface for a moment, you peek at the shoreline. You find you like to watch the two-leggers on boards. One in particular...
The chitter-click of fish conversation suddenly increases to a frantic level, attracting your attention. Usually it's dull as rocks with them -- their little brains encompass only what's right in front of them -- but miraculously they discuss something beyond coral and food. Before they scatter, you realize with amazement that a big surge of water now rushes toward the shore.
You are intrigued. Your long pale hair floats back as you flick your tail. The silly fish panic when the coral creaks. You, however, enjoy big waves, big currents. The better to play in. Like the two-leggers, you ride nature's ebb and flow rather than darting in fear of it.
You observe with interest, however, that the two-leggers aren't frolicking in anticipation. Most seem to be thrashing toward land and then moving inland with alacrity. The few who remain follow the strong current's tug out to sea with grim expressions. You swim closer to "your" two-legger, a handsome dark-haired specimen with especially beautiful glistening muscles and a graceful way of finning the water. Another shouts, pointing to the horizon.
You don't need to look at the enormous wave, so you watch their reactions instead. The graceful one swallows, then his eyes narrow as he pivots and vigorously fins the water. Another with hair the same pale color as yours freezes, his eyes becoming as large as starfishes. Yet another, the shouter, follows the graceful one's lead and fins the water, though not half so gracefully.
You follow at a distance, feeling the surging power of the wave churn toward you, lifting you. The torrent fights your movements but you are young and strong, and you thrill to the unpredictable fury, singing the ancient songs with joy. You cavort, turning in circles and leaping onto the crest. But... the two-leggers are having trouble. They strain, perched atop their boards, to keep from being sucked down into the maelstrom inside the wave. As you watch, one board flickers, then it and its rider disappear. You duck into the wave and see board and rider spinning deeper. You know from old memories that two-leggers can't survive for long under the surface. Should you help?
Choose
