Chapter 3
Winny
Leighton bawls in fear as they launch out of the water so fast I don't realize what's happening until they're dangling above the water, fur dripping.
My nibling struggles against the sudden restraint around their middle, moaning pitifully.
If I thought open swim itself was chaos, this is bedlam.
Life guards notice the tenor of the commotion and their whistles shriek as the call out conflicting directions, moving closer to intervene.
But there are too many other shifters in the way for them to get to us fast. I can get to my nibling faster, they're barely beyond my arm's reach.
"Leighton!" I yell into the cacophony too, my entire focus on the tiny bear cub caught at the center of the storm. Or no...caught in a muscular tentacle. That darn octopus shifter again. I charge closer, the water slowing my steps, ready to fight if that's what it takes to protect Leighton.
Others seem to notice something is happening and either gather around to gawk or try to shepherd children out of the way.
Hilda bellows at the rubberneckers to move along, and I catch a glimpse of her wrangling a rebellious looking Myra and Cory from the water along with her own kits.
Marilee must have heard all the whistles in her office, because she announces that everyone needs to exit the water now over the speakers, but the mass exodus only adds to the confusion.
Each step I take to get closer, the octopus shifter matches by moving further away with Leighton, turning away from me.
What the in the seven hells could have gotten into the octopus shifter that she'd snap like this?
Then she turns enough that I can see Leighton's face and understanding hits me like a tidal wave.
The curly streamers dangling from the cub's mouth are moving. The bright colors of the glittery strings have turned a greenish gray that matches the massive tentacle holding my nibling aloft. Those aren't streamers. Oh feathers, that isn't their toy at all.
"Leighton! Drop that this instant!" I hardly recognize my own voice as it cracks loud over the ambient noise.
The cold calm authority of knowing life and death hang in the balance of how the next few seconds unfold leaves no margin for error and something in my tone must get that across to the moaning, terrified bear cub.
Leighton drops the baby octopus shifter back into the pool, mouth going slack as they stare at the tiny octopus shifter.
They turn a vibrant crimson and flail threateningly before jetting away from us in a cloud of ink.
Despite my fear for my nibling, it's a relief to see the other child seemingly unharmed.
And now I can negotiate with the scared adult octopus.
It's clear from Leighton's bewildered expression that they mistook the other child for their toy, and seeing them come to life and swimming away like that would be scary enough without the much larger octopus still menacing them. Time to de-escalate this.
My nibling's wide-eyed stare meets mine beseechingly.
Unfortunately, the avenging adult is facing the wrong way to have noticed the tiny octopus's escape and appears to still be operating under the assumption Leighton is attempting to eat the kid.
The ink swirling through the water around us only seems to increase their fear.
"Marina, baby, I've got you. Spit her out you menace!
" the octopus wails, tentacles lashing and forcing me to keep my distance.
There's no way she's forming human words with an octopus's beak, but seeing a human mouth form each word before shifting back to a beak is strange even by shifter standards, and I can't watch it for long.
My heart pounds in my throat at what the adrenaline fueled parent might do next.
I saw how easily the octopus tossed much bigger kids around earlier.
Leighton is in heart-stoppingly imminent danger, and I can't blame the octopus shifter for protecting their own hatchling any more than I can stand by without protecting my nibling.
They're getting dangerously close to the edge of the pool now.
"She's alright, they dropped her," I call. Leighton coughs and splutters, making a face I recognize. The inky water probably tastes awful. "You're not choking, Leighton." I try to soothe the cub. Unfortunately, that seems to be the only part the octopus shifter hear.
"No! You can't be choking, let her go!" The octopus demands in a panicked wail.
She gives Leighton a thump between the shoulder blades.
I recognize that motion. Back blows. As in the modified maneuver to dislodge something from a choking toddler's throat.
Like in the kiddy CPR class Bram made us all take when the kids started eating solids.
Somehow the frantic shifter in front of me has the capacity to help my nibling in the face of a threat to their own kid. That's a level of selflessness I can't wrap my head around at the moment.
I might know she's not actually trying to hurt the hatchling, but Leighton has no clue what's going on. Their distress calls draw the attention of every corvid shifter in the room.
I appreciate the care in their immediate reaction, my raven's first impulse to a perceived attack is to shift so I can fly into this jerk's face to peck out their eyes as retaliation, but that will only escalate matters.
Our younger flockmates don't have the same full picture as me though.
So many of us shifting and taking flight at once makes the room echo with the rustle of feathers as our rave prepares to defend our hatchling. No more time to play it cautious.
"I've got this," I shout to the others, trusting them to listen, despite their doubts about my capabilities.
I can pick out Cory and Elric's voices among the birds circling above us.
The flock's chorus of caws and croaks makes it clear no one picks a fight with one of us without fighting all of us.
Including Leighton and me. At least my sibling seems to have enough pull with the other teens to get them to hold back.
Myra's furious growls behind me don't bode well for anyone either. I need to take control of this before it spirals any further.
"Elric, keep Myra and the others back," I say. Elric croaks something vaguely affirmative. Good enough.
The octopus whirls to avoid an overzealous crow diving in close to harass the shifter. They aren't actively attacking yet, but it won't take much more provocation to tip this into outright violence. I need to end this fast.
"Hey, octopus!" I dive forward, interposing myself between Leighton and the cement edge of the pool when the octopus shifter's dodge brings the cub's head dangerously close to hitting the wall.
Which also puts me in the panicking shifter's line of sight.
My sudden lunge dislodges Kyrie from where they took refuge on my shoulder at the first signs of trouble, they take flight.
Feathers, how did I forget they were there? I am so not cut out for this. They wing up to the rafters with a terrified, angry croak, drawing most of the assembled flock to their side to comfort the scared baby they can actually get to. Good, that might delay a preemptive strike.
I can't spare the attention to worry about what the others are doing regardless. I focus on the octopus, meeting her strange eyes. "Hey, I know you're worried, but Marina is fine. I promise."
She doesn't seem to hear me though, too focused on demanding Leighton spit her kid out.
From my new vantage, I can see the tiny octopus, Marina, huddled into a clump of several other juveniles who share her form, I can't begin to count how many of the little ones there are in the mass of tiny tentacles in a riot of reddish hues.
Marina might be safe, but Leighton is still struggling feebly in the too tight hold of several strong limbs and who knows how much inky pool water is safe for them to swallow?
Leighton shifts to their human form, trying to wriggle free and getting a face full of water in the process.
Sudden shifts are their go to tactic for slipping away from adults for good reason.
If the octopus didn't have four times the usual number of arms that Leighton is used to dodging, it might have even worked.
As it stands, the tactic breaks through the octopus's panicked tunnel vision.
"Oh, tides, you're just a little one yourself. Can you spit out what you had in your mouth kiddo?" The adult's frantic tone softens when confronted with the fact their captive is a toddler, and that eases some of my terror.
The octopus shifter has to adjust their grip on the kid's slippery skin, and ends up lifting Leighton out of the water by one ankle, their face inches above the waves as they splutter and gasp ineffectively for air.
"Stop wriggling kiddo, I'm sorry I scared you, but I can't let you eat other kids," she says, sounding absurdly genuine as she steadies their grip on Leighton, one tentacle tip sweeping into the cub's mouth, and that's going to end with Leighton biting them if I don't unfreeze now.
"Wait!" I say, stepping close enough to grab the tentacle prodding Leighton's face. "I've been trying to tell you, Marina is fine. Leighton spit her out when she inked."
My touch startles her into meeting my eyes, and I was wrong when I thought those slitted pupils made them strange, her eyes are gorgeous. Swirling orbs that leave me captivated by the depth of colors I can tell will appear even more vibrant to my raven's UV sight.
"You mean the cub isn't choking on my niece?" The octopus is staring suspiciously at Leighton for any sign I'm lying, so I'm spared an up close look at the strange too-fast series of partial shifts she makes with her face to form the words.
"No, not at all, she seemed fine when she swam away," I say.
She flips Leighton face up and probes at their face with the tip of a tentacle again. Startled, Leighton lays totally limp for a terrifying moment.