The more she stared, the more she was convinced that a divine entity was playing a cruel joke on her. Relief buoyed her up, but crashed down in the face of the new danger. Of all the people who could have come to her rescue, it had to be the one guy she wanted to avoid at all costs. From feral human prey to debt slavery.

Her eyes flitted to the two long limbs that supported his weight. A battle akin to an Empire Ocean skirmish raged in her brain while she struggled to make sense of what she was seeing. On top of that, how he teleported here in the blink of an eye eluded her wildest imagination.

Dea clamped her eyes shut and drooped back in the Cypod—the closest she could manage to a fetal position. Footsteps approached her—the muffled thuds of shoes hitting asphalt.

"Go away, go away, go away," she chanted under her breath.

"Are you trying to banish me?" his resonant voice inquired, too close for comfort.

She gulped and cracked open an eye. He bent down to peer at her. Without warning, she mustered up the last dregs of her strength and swiped at him. He dodged sideways with lightning fast reflexes.

A bird hoot pierced the beat drop of a silence—as if to mock her sad attempt at fighting. He straightened up, muttering a few human words that Merlingo couldn't translate. Now that she had exhausted her defensive maneuvers, her body reverted to its jelly-like slump.

After watching her for a moment, he smacked a hand to the back of the Cypod and wheeled it towards his vehicle, cloaked in the night like a deep-sea blackdragon.

Dea's panicky mind jumped from one idea to the next to figure out a way to incapacitate him. Wait just a minute, you silly gull. First of all, you're not a tank—don't randomly aggro him. Even if you manage to whack him unconscious, you'd be stranded on land. In fact, both of you would be sitting puffins if the feral humans return!

It made sense that he would transport her to his land lair. She decided that the best course of action was to act on the way and ask help from a random human.

Anuk positioned the Cypod next to the passenger door and pulled it open. Then he scooped her up.

Dea was too surprised to react. A nanosecond later, she clawed at his shirt and screamed her lungs out. He winced.

"Let me go, you jerk!" She thumped a fist on his shoulder, fingers twisting the fabric—though a glance at the ground below stopped her from head-butting him, in case he dropped her.

The double assault on his shirt and eardrums drove him to hurriedly stow her inside and shut the door.

He stood there for a long moment and swept a hand through his mop of black curls. Then he pushed the Cypod to the back. A low whir informed her that he folded it up to deposit in the vehicle's cargo compartment.

Her heavy breathing punctuated the silence in the vehicle's interior. She emitted a squeak to test her strained vocal chords just when the driver's door clunked open, making her jump. Anuk climbed in.

As he revved up the engine, the unreality of the situation bore down on her. She goggled down at his legs, encased in a thick, dry fabric.

"It's rude to stare," he murmured. "I feel shy."

She blinked at him. "You've got legs..."

"Yep, all natural."

Dea struggled to process it while her shock slowly wore down. Random details aligned to form a new picture—his peculiar accent and the beams in the lair that were so wide in places that they were practically walkways. She realized her mouth was hanging open.

She composed herself and reached for her bottle. A swig of water relieved her parched throat and helped clear her head.

Soon afterwards, they sailed down the road. The purr of the SUV sent soothing vibrations up her spine, but the day's harrowing experiences took their toll on her. She drew in a shuddering breath, barely able to keep her tears at bay. One trembling hand sneaked up to dab at her eyes.

His hand reached towards her, making her flinch. He opened a compartment in front and produced a small box. His hand proceeded to dump it on her lap and reverted to its position on the steering wheel.

She sniffled and gave the box an experimental poke as if it was an explosive device. Convinced that it wasn't, she pulled out a flimsy, dry sheet. She wasn't sure what human etiquette was—nor did she care. She blew her nose loudly.

"How did you," she croaked, fixing him with a probing stare, "get here?"

"Didn't you ask for my help?"

"No—just tell me!"

"Aw, you're no fun," he whispered. "Where's the magic when the illusionist reveals the trick?"

Her face morphed into a glower.

"And here I was expecting a thank-you." He shook his head with mock disappointment. "There's a tracker inside your bag."

"Huh?"

"Did you think I'd just release you into the wild with no way of knowing anything? I didn't expect you to actually make it to land. When you did, I came after you."

So you expected me to fail before I even started? She wanted to smack him but instead demanded, "How can you track me all the way down from the abyssal zone? Even C-Wave's barely working so far out to sea, let alone on land."

"We don't use sound on land." He leaned back, one hand relaxed on the wheel, while they shot down a linear stretch of road. "We use electromagnetic waves. There are buoys up on the ocean surface—acoustic modems that can pick up the signal, convert it to sound and transmit it down."

Dea opened her mouth and closed it, trying to digest this newly acquired piece of information. Of course! Electromagnetic waves are perfect for land communication systems. This must be what humans are using for their ogi technology.

She flicked a glance at Anuk's profile, shadowed in the dim interior. The brine pool jerk can't be the only one using these modems—after all, they can be used to tap into human radio, TV and land info. This must be how Mertech does research on humans—and how the state gathers intel on them.

"Are you saying," she said, pulling out the communicator he had provided her, "that this thing works the same way?"

"Yeah. It's a phone."

Her eyes widened. I actually used a land ogi!

Now that she stopped to think about it, it did indeed resemble the rectangular devices that she spied humans in Seren City using that day. She slid a finger along its rigid edges. Why is it shaped like a block of concrete? They probably drop it all the time.

Despite her weariness, more questions swirled in her mind. Anuk was still an enigma as dark and blurry as the trees that whizzed past the window. Wonder gripped her anew. It was overwhelming to dwell on the fact that a human was in their midst all this time—conversing in Mermish, no less. He was the very first human she had communicated with, and she hadn't even realized it. Shivers swam down her spine.

When distant buildings inched into visibility, she straightened up. Her inner eye conjured up a fearsome image of his land lair, and dread coalesced into a formidable weight. An escape plan jostled to the forefront of her brain.

"I wasn't going to take off with the gear," she murmured, steadying her voice. "I was going to return it late."

"And I'm a fluffy unicorn."

She squirmed. "I'm—I'm your slave then?"

"Yep, had to come claim you."

Disbelief warred with anger at the casual way he uttered it, but she slumped in her seat. I'm so sorry, Gramma. I should've just listened to you—I should've stayed home and met that aristocratic dude. What a crappy birthday.

Yet, images of her adventures flooded in, as well as a wondrous montage of humans in the city. Dilip's radiant face took center stage, and his invitation reverberated in her head. No, I wouldn't have missed that for the world. Of course, it comes with a price. I'm getting out of this mess.

Anuk glanced at her, and his lips twitched, which made her temper jet up like a black smoker. It solidified her determination to escape and get to Dilip. She eyed the gun at his waistband.

"If you're done moping, maybe you can brief me on what happened?" he asked.

She glared at him. "Why should I tell you anything?"

"That's no way to speak to your new master."

She seethed and balled her fists. Reason lanced through the haze of anger. Play along. You won't win in hand-to-hand combat. Brains over brawn.

"So, you're taking me to your land lair?" she asked in a flat voice.

"Yeah, my...lair."

The landscape gradually transformed to a coastal suburb. In fact, the ocean was well within view. Her spirits soared.

The vehicle slowed next to a red light, which she guessed worked similar to Calliathron's traffic lights. Crimson bleed crept in and highlighted his features—as smooth and sharp as a sculpture. He directed his idle gaze to an advert that flashed on a shopfront.

She lunged.

It took only a split second to yank the gun off his waistband. He stiffened, head snapping in her direction.

Dea pointed it at him with both hands, face scrunched up in a glower. "Pull over and unlock the door."

He relaxed again and closed his eyes, much to her bewilderment. "Shoot me."

"Huh?" she croaked. "You mean don't shoot?"

"No, shoot me."

As she eyeballed him, a vague suspicion wormed its way into her head. Hesitating, she pointed the gun at his leg and pulled the trigger.

A flag of Serendiva popped out.

It occurred to her that his face was neutral the whole time, except for the hint of a smile that flitted across it once—or maybe she was just too busy gawking and plotting. Now, he barked out a full laugh, and the transformation made her breath hitch.

Words failed her. This baffling array of experiences one after another was too much to absorb. The repeated activation of the fight-or-flight response had drained every ounce of energy. Her butt complained louder than ever, and her bladder demanded a bathroom break. In fact, her whole system badly needed a reboot—her stinging eyes surveyed the skin on her hand, which prickled with dryness, yearning for water.

When the light turned to green, he eased the vehicle into a slow glide. Orderly blocks of concrete and glass now stood on either side, interspersed with trees full of needle-like leaves.

Anuk's face sobered back to its cool mask. "Are you alright?"

Dea rubbed her eyes and scrutinized him warily.

"I know you're not alright—you can't be." He flung a sideways glance at her. "Let me rephrase that. What hurts?"

"Why do you care?"

"I don't know." A thoughtful expression descended on him. "I treat my slaves well."

She was too tired to be angry. "I'm fine."

"You look like a frazzled poosa."

"A what?"

"Poosa. Sinhalese for a cute but ferocious animal." He steered to a lane that led up an incline, away from the other suburban houses. "One scratched me last week when I tried to help him down a kos tree."

Oh, probably the domesticated felines. Dea squinted through the windshield. Outlines of rock and coconut trees flanked the narrow road, lit intermittently by streetlamps. Then she saw the house.

It was an amalgam of geometric shapes, not unlike the other homes in the area, and it crested a promontory, waves lapping against weathered rocks. Coconut palms sprouted above the walls of the compound. The ocean stretched out beyond—a moonlit panorama that calmed the storm within her.

"Like my lair?"

She started and shot him a look. "No."

He sighed and shook his head. The vehicle waited for the gate to slide open—horizontal slats shining grey under the glare of the headlights.

Dea frowned as she assessed her options. Now that the gun was a total let-down, she still had her birthday knife at her disposal. She could whip it out, swipe at him and then crawl out.

On the other hand, he did indeed rescue her and seemed to trust her not to scratch off his face. A stealth attack of that nature wasn't the same as injuring a feral human in self-defense—it made her feel villainous. She wished he behaved more like a villain so that she didn't have to factor in the ethics.

Shaking her head, she scrapped the mental simulation and decided to escape via nonviolent means.

Anuk drove the SUV along a short driveway and into a garage. LEDs blinked on, bathing the place in an amber glow. As the roller shutters closed behind them, Dea's alertness went up a notch.

She was so jittery that she jumped when he got out and shut the door. He walked to the back to retrieve the Cypod. She wanted to psionically bump it on his legs and try toppling him, but the machine was out of power.

A minute later, he parked it by the passenger door and opened it.

Dea froze and blasted him with a death glare, non-verbally challenging him to try touching her.

"Don't scream," he said in his clipped tones. "I think you already perforated my eardrums."

She ignored the hand he offered her, hugged the backpack and slithered into the Cypod. Then she aimed another glare at him—this time with less intensity.

"Ouch, I'm hurt," he whispered, clutching his chest.

She rolled her eyes.

Anuk guided the Cypod into an open-plan living room. The window wall dominated the space with a breathtaking view of the ocean, which sparkled silver under the moon. Acting as an area light, this luminous expanse bathed the interior in a soft glow. The land lair was a far better version of his think room by the brine lake.

As she scanned the rest of the place, blacks and whites met her wherever she looked. It was the quintessence of edgy minimalism. Her inner eye involuntarily dabbed splotches of pastel pink onto the scene and purred in satisfaction. She gave her head a quick shake to zap her meandering thoughts.

"Wait here," Anuk said in a low rumble, the bass notes stealing into her ears in pleasant vibrations.

Dea watched him stride towards a human staircase. His muffled footfalls rippled out in the stillness, feet now encased in flimsy indoor shoes.

She waited for him to disappear upstairs. Then she whirled around in jerky movements, writhing and puffing with effort. Her darting eyes zeroed in on the sofa nearby, and she almost fell down when she tried to grab hold of it. With a colossal push, she propelled herself towards the front door. The Cypod wheels skidded to a stop right in front of it. She grabbed the handle with both hands and pulled.

It didn't open. Dea groaned.

Her next stop was the window wall. A sliding door allowed access to the balcony, where low-hanging chairs basked in the moonlight—but again, it was locked.

His footsteps sounded on the stairs sooner than she expected. Dea stiffened and hastily backed away, her palm squeaking against the glass.

"Are you trying to escape?" Anuk asked, jogging to a stop. "I have the perfect torture waiting for you upstairs. Let's go."

Animal: Dumbo Octopus

https://youtu.be/pxuBwfNp2wk