Harpoon Fishing:1
Close your eyes and imagine waking up on the beach, sunrise creeping in above the horizon, your partner resting quietly beside you. A smell of smoke reminds you of the campfire last night where you had some delicious fish, and made love for the first time. You can stop imagining now. Or, you might want to. The smell of smoke gets out of hand and despite my efforts to curl back up and sleep in, a scream upsets me. I jump to my feet and look for the fire. It's just down the beach: the town. I run as fast as I can to make it to our little dock-town. A family of otters established the settlement long ago, somewhere on my family tree. That was my home, and I needed to save it. As I'm running I grab my fishing spear. Not exactly a harpoon, not as dangerous, but enough to catch fish for two. I don't know why I thought I needed my spear to put out a fire, but my instincts told me not to leave it. Up the stairs and onto the first platform, I run past someone I don't recognize. Though I didn't see his face, his garb was definitely that of an outsider. I push thoughts of invasion out of my head. Who would ransack a meaningless port town? I reach the fire quickly. A family of deer who claimed to want more than forest life is scrambling to save everything they have. The buck and his wife crawl out with sacks of things, but look back and shout to their son. I run to them to help, stopping the buck before he hurts himself. I've seen it before -- him getting worked up about something and letting his antlers get in the way. It often hurts, being a sailor. Gods know how much worse it could've been in a burning house. Stopping him, I jump into the house before him. The heat attacks my naked body and the sea salt in my fur begins to sting, but that doesn't matter. I shout, "Cam!" The boy's name, Cameron. I knew him like a younger brother. "Cam!" "Damien!" The shout came from my left, a choking cough followed suit. I turn to call back but am cut off by a falling beam. The houses aren't big, with only a few rooms, one main supporting beam going vertical, and two perpendicular horizontal along the ceiling. One of the upper beams fell, followed by part of the wall above the door, blocking off the exit. "Damien!" He sounded more scared now, hurt maybe. I only hoped the fire hadn't burned him yet; or
worse, that he wasn't trapped under burning rubble. I leaped over the burning four-by-four and made my way to his room. He had likely still been sleeping and his panicking parents didn't get to him in time. I don't blame them, the panic made me leave Mar on the beach. He was cowering in a corner below the window, opposite from me. The smoke stung my eyes so I crouched low to see him. He was terrified, but almost managed a relieved smile when he saw me. He began crawling toward me when the door-frame collapsed behind me. The scorching wood left a sooty burn on my tail that would live with me forever. The surprise made me jump, though the adrenaline kept it from hurting; only now we both were trapped in the room. Fortunately, I knew the town like the back of my hand. "Can you swim?" I didn't know, I had never seen him try. "Well..." he looked almost ashamed, poor lad. "Then hold your breath," I commanded, scooping him up and throwing myself backward through the cracked glass of the window behind. I trusted my instinct and we fell more than 2 meters down to the low tide of the ocean. It was a fairly large area, meant for leisure swimming. Recycled fishing nets were used to cage off the inside, keeping young ones from swimming out or being swept away by tides. The window was thicker than I thought, even with its cracks. My back hurt, and landing on the water from so high hurt even more. I began feeling the burn on my tail as we broke the surface, but the cool water soothed it. A shard of glass scraped across my cheek but it didn't matter. I easily lifted him up to air and he gasped. We were safe from the fire, but the ledge was too high above. I swam for the rope ladder that was the exit, but a flame had burnt it halfway up. I shouted for Gail, Cameron's mother, then for his father, Sash. Sash came running, relieved to see his boy unharmed, while I exhausted myself trying to keep the fawn afloat. Sash climbed down the shortened ladder and reached out for Cameron. I lifted him as high as I could, barely getting him out before drowning myself. It was then that I realized I was still holding my spear. Might've been easier to swim with both my arms, I thought. Well, I've held on to it this long, no sense in letting go now. Sash helped me out next, and everyone was panting. Cam and I were exhausted and smoke-infested, his parents were just panicked. I wanted to stay and help situate them, but I needed
to get home. Again I ran, toward my own home. I saw more families safely escaping wreckage and more strangers in a strange uniform. I paid little attention to them, since it didn't seem like they were doing much. Fire roared all around, setting a goal to burn the whole town to ash. I made it to my family's house, the furthest from shore and arguably the biggest on port. It was also burning horribly bright. My father and sister were out safe with precious belongings and rations. You needn't worry about my mother; her adventurous heart got her killed some time ago. A shipmate of hers brought us the news. She was beaten and killed on a whore's island far east, after refusing to sleep with a drunk. After that I silently swore to never leave the port, like she had. Addie, my sister, wept on her knees clutching her old stuffed orca. She had the thing since she was 3, but now she was 18. I wasn't given anything so precious. When I was 4 I was given my first spear and taught to fish. My father used to work together with my mother with a large net to catch dozens of fish at a time. They had to be well in-sync to dive far enough and swim fast enough with the large net to catch enough fish for the family and the town. We weren't the only fishers. And no, fishing isn't the only occupation. Some of the townsfolk are carpenters. The port has expanded more in the last five years than it has since its founding. Some residents live on the shore and farm, or trade with visitors who don't want to come out over the water. My father doubled as mayor of the town, as was his birthright. As would someday be mine. Unfortunately, leadership wasn't for me. I only wanted the simple life of a fisherman with one significant other with me. I wanted to be looked up to, not looked to, but not looked at. However, being my father's only son I would have to inherit his house, and his office. Addie couldn't do it, being female, though she was a year older than me. Now, it seemed, even if I inherited something of my father's, it wouldn't be much. The home I've lived in all my life crumbled before my eyes. Addie knew how she felt: torn over the loss of everything she's owned, loved. Father knew how he felt: sad at the loss of history, angry at himself or whoever started the fire. Perhaps terrified of unifying a panicking village. No, never terrified, not him. Regardless, they both knew what they felt, everyone did. How should I feel? Sad like my sister? Angry like my father? Relieved that I have no more responsibility? What kind of person -- what kind of son would that make
me? I fell to my knees, dropping my spear, finally. A tear crept out of my eye, and I cringed. When did I cut my cheek? The salty tear of emotional rage made it burn. "Pick up that spear, son," my father demanded. "Why?" I snapped. I didn't mean to, but couldn't help it. "Because it will save you sister's life." He sounded so sure. I was shocked, scared almost that he believed that. But what did he mean? I didn't care. My emotions hurt, and anger let out first. Grabbing the spear I yelled at him, "A fishing spear can't put out a fire, father! It can't even fight, okay?!" What was I talking about? "How can it save her life?" More tears burned the cut on my cheek. I turned and threw the spear into the burning house. My father only watched the flames. His eyes dropped suddenly, disappointed. "This house stands above the beginning of a great secret." He turned to me. "Your mother went looking for it and I'm certain it led to her death. We both knew, since you were born, that you were meant to find it. She wanted to protect you..." He choked up at the memory. Could that be true? Did she leave to try and save me? The idea made me fall to my knees again. My father crouched down and placed a hand on my shoulder; tried to smile, but through the devastation he couldn't bring himself to it. Then a voice came. "How touching, a family reunited in tragedy." I turned my head to see Mar, the panther from the beach. He was fully dressed in uniform, similar to the ones I've seen on the strangers in town, only much more elaborate. "Marshal," I growled, putting the pieces together. "Why...? How could you do this?!" "Military power," he said. I didn't understand, and he could tell. "I understand it takes some time for news to reach this side of the world, but the king has died. Tragic really, the poor old ape, alone in his bed." His tone was painfully condescending, even a bit apathetic. "He had no heir, and while the rest of the regions fight over rule of the kingdom, my men and I believe that a wiser hand must be placed. But not yet." He bent down to me, on my knees. "There are certain artifacts of ancient rulers, founders of this land. Once I collect them all, my forces will be seen as superior in every way. They'll place me on
the throne, and no more blood shall be shed." "No... I thought..." I stuttered. "You thought I loved you...?" He stood. "You were supposed to. 'And a son shall be born in white. This shall be my prodigy, for he shall be the bearer of my weapon of power. So say I, Nikia.'" He was reciting something. I had never heard it before, but he had practiced it. "Is it the spear? Is that why you took it with you when you ran? Bring it to me." I was still outraged at his betrayal. "I don't know --" "Of course you don't." He smiled at me, no sign of decency anywhere. "You," he pointed at my father, "take him back into your home. Teach him of his destiny." My father stood me up roughly. "A destiny," Marshal continued, "that he will fail." Father dragged me inside, the fire still burning though less dangerously. He grabbed my old fishing spear -- stuck in the old wood -- then pushed me away. "I believe in you." This was the last thing I heard from him. Before I could respond, he jammed the spearhead into the weakened floorboards. The entire house creaked and began falling. The floor beneath me splintered and fell, taking me down to the water once again. I braced myself for landing, but everything went black for a second. Then, time seemed to slow down. I was under water, holding my breath, a familiar salty sting at my eyes. Looking around the water was clear, no rubble yet. Then I saw it. A plank of wood resting flat against the floor of the ocean, just beneath me. I swam down to it. It was a different kind of wood from the house, older. I pried it up, discovering it was in fact the lid of a chest. The chest was tall, buried deep in the sand, but only one thing was stashed inside: a thin glass cylinder. I grabbed the cylinder and inspected it. Something was inside. Just then I heard a dampened crash above me. Debris fell into the water; the house was collapsing! I swam away quickly, but it was a big house. Chunks of wood fell in front of me, above me. Trunks and beds that had burnt to a crisp slid into the water like they were attacking. I swam with ease and grace, having practiced all my life around coral and fish, making fun of what was my job. I never once would have guessed that the skill would save my life. I emerged, still below the port. I heard crying; my father. Addie was crying, too, but I knew my father was crying, now. He was crying for me, as if he hadn't just collapsed the house on his own son. Then I heard Marshal speak. "Yes, weep for your naked fool of a son." "Do NOT liken my son to a fool!" I heard Addie whisper to herself, "He's always naked," she stopped crying, "he swims better that way." It was true, I almost always wore little to no clothing because I spent most of my day in the water. Many of us did, being otters, though none were as dedicated as I. Still, no one said anything about my choice, similarly as they made no remark to my choice of lovers. I heard a gasp from Addie as she whispered to herself, realizing that I was still alive. Then she began crying again. A fake cry, I could tell, but a convincing one. Marshal said something to the uniformed men around him and I heard their footsteps moving. A struggle ensued as soldiers grabbed my father and sister. He grunted and fought as she screamed and cried. I could only imagine what my neighbors were doing, or even thinking. "Make peace, old man," Marshal scoffed at my father, "I made a woman of him." My father lashed out. I heard one good punch land on the panther's face as more guards struggled to subdue him. He was forced to his knees. I swam slowly and silently, directly underneath him. He saw me, through a knot hole in the floor of the dock. He smiled, at peace. My lip quivered. I mouthed the words "I'm sorry" to him. His lips parted slightly and his teeth came together. "Shhh..." he ordered. I didn't even hear Marshal give the command, but before I knew it there was a sword through my father's back. I wanted to shout, to yell at them for what they did, but I couldn't. I had to stay hidden. Blood dripped through the deck, into the water, on my face. Silence fell on me. The crumbling structures, the burning fires, not even the water was there anymore. My father had been murdered by someone to whom I willingly gave myself. Addie's scream brought me back. They were taking her. Likely some kind of trophy for ending the life of the ruler of Talassa Town. He would likely deflower her, but I couldn't help. She broke free for a second and ran to father's dying body. "I know you're alive," was she speaking to me? "Let me
go. I know he'll let me live but please, live!" "Your daddy's gone, girl," a soldier grunted. "Now get going." She was lifted again and resumed her convincing cries. She was tough, I knew she'd make it through this. I would just have to get to her before he did anything to her.