Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
Macy remained huddled beside the barrel long after Jax left, crying until she had no tears left to shed, and hated herself for it. What did it solve? What had crying ever done to help her?
She was still stuck in this cavern, more miserable than before.
She rubbed her tired eyes with the heels of her hands and released a slow, shaky breath. She needed to do something. Anything but sit here, waiting.
Lowering her arms, Macy looked around the cavern, halting her gaze on the vegetation hanging at the sides of the waterfall. Her eyes followed their path up the steep cliffside.
She thrust the idea aside before it went any further.
Climbing was suicide. One slip and she’d plummet to the rocks below.
If that didn’t kill her instantly, she’d be left broken, suffering through immense pain until she finally expired — alone.
When the time came, and desperation demanded the attempt, she’d try, but it wasn’t yet worth the risk.
That left escaping by water.
Macy stared at the dark side of the cave. Sunlight shone on the rippling surface, casting shattered reflections on the ceiling. Jax hadn’t been specific on how he brought her in here, but there had to be some sort of tunnel hidden in the darkness.
Her legs and backside protested as she uncurled herself and crawled to the edge of the island. She leaned forward and peered into the cerulean water. Small plants swayed amidst the rocks below. It was shallow now, but the tide was receding, and it was likely deeper toward the rear of the cave.
Sharp rocks dug into her palms as she clutched the edge.
I can do this.
This wasn’t the unforgiving ocean with huge, battering waves that would drag her into the abyss. It was an enclosed pool of water.
Shifting her legs around, she sat on the edge and paused. She ran her gaze over the frayed hem of her dress, over the splotches of dirt marring the once white, crisp fabric. Fingering a tear near her knee, she closed her eyes.
She had to believe Camrin was alive. She couldn’t…couldn’t consider the alternative.
Steeling herself, Macy slid into the water. It was chilly against her sun-warmed skin. She waded forward, and it slowly rose past her hips until it reached her chest. Her dress floated around her in the current produced by the waterfall.
Macy spent what felt like hours searching the bottom, feeling with her toes and stepping carefully.
The water became too deep to stand in as she neared the shadowed area; she dove under a few times, but all she found was more rock.
She stopped at the edge of the sunlight, treading water, and stared ahead.
The cave wall in the back was visible, but she couldn’t see the bottom of the water.
It was just a little farther. A little more to explore. She bit her lip and urged herself forward, but her limbs didn’t respond.
There was no telling how deep it was, or what awaited in that darkness.
Defeated and exhausted, Macy returned to the island and hauled herself out of the water. She wrung out her dress before she collapsed.
After allowing her limbs a rest, she forced herself up and rummaged through the various containers, removing items and arranging them around her feet.
She picked up a ratty brown teddy bear; it was missing an eye and one leg, and most of the stuffing had fallen out.
Lowering it, she shifted her gaze to the other items; netting, rope, shells, tools both familiar and foreign, and objects she had no name for.
She glanced up at the opening in the ceiling; the sunlight had been intense through most of the day, and even with the cooling mist from the waterfall, it was hot. If she was going to stay here, some sort of shelter would be necessary.
Macy cleared the space, returning most of the items to their containers, and shifted two of the barrels so they were a couple meters apart from each other.
She stood a fishing pole in each, securing the poles by stuffing objects around their handles.
As she replaced the tools, she discovered a knife.
She peered over her shoulder, as though Jax would suddenly appear and pluck the knife away, before settling her attention on the blade.
It was old; that was clear by its lack of rust and light weight. This wasn’t metal forged after the colonization; it was an advanced material that couldn’t be produced on Halora. And the edge was sharp.
Taking up a length of rope, she trimmed it into several smaller pieces.
Then she unfurled the canvas, cut holes at the corners to loop the rope through, and stretched it between the fishing poles.
She pulled the free end tight and anchored it with a pair of heavy crates.
When she was done, she wrapped the knife in a spare shirt and set it aside.
Macy stood in front of the makeshift shelter and surveyed her work; it was crude, but it was shady, and that was all that mattered right now. She crawled beneath the canvas, thankful to be out of the sun.
The shifting shadows on the ground marked the passage of hours as the sun progressed across the sky. When would Jax return? What if he didn’t come back at all? She pushed the thoughts aside, but the more she fought them, the more she thought of him.
He’d called his people kraken. The name was vaguely familiar; she’d heard stories growing up, mostly from her father and the other fisherman, about giant beasts, sea serpents, and monsters.
But they were just that — stories. Myths.
The sea was home to countless creatures, and long, uneventful voyages under the blazing sun could easily muddle a person’s perception.
A three-meter-long fish became a thirty-meter fish fairly easily, under such circumstances.
But none of those stories had mentioned anything like Jax. How had humans lived on Halora for centuries without knowing of the kraken’s existence?
For all his similarities to a human, the differences were striking and unsettling; Jax was equally fascinating and frightening. But he hadn’t hurt her. His curiosity had mirrored hers as they examined one another.
She settled her hand over the spot on her neck where he’d touched her. He’d been gentle. He’d even called her delicate. In any other situation, she might have laughed. She was slim, but she wasn’t fragile; she worked as hard as any man or woman back home.
But she’d felt his strength. If he wanted to break her, he could do so with little effort.
Still, his touch hadn’t been unpleasant, nor did his face repulse her like it should have.
She was ashamed to admit to herself that the contact between them had elicited a powerful reaction from her body.
Despite her uncertainty and fear, she’d felt something when his tentacle slid along her inner thigh. Something there.
Macy squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her fists.
Jax wasn’t even human! How could her body betray her like that? Why would she respond to his touch when she rejected Camrin’s? Camrin, who had loved her for years, who was one of her best friends? Jax was holding her captive. She should be terrified of him.
She should hate him.
And yet…
By late afternoon, her stomach ached, and her tongue was thick and dry. She looked at the waterfall.
What choice did she have? It was fast-running water, as fresh and safe to drink as anything outside The Watch.
Macy grabbed a cup and a piece of cloth from one of the crates and lowered herself into the pool.
She was just tall enough to stand on her toes and walk across, her chin brushing the surface.
When she arrived at the narrow stone ledge beneath the waterfall, she set the cup down and hauled herself up.
She rinsed the cup out and filled it through the cloth; without any way to boil it, it would have to be enough.
Pulling the cloth away, she brought the cup to her lips and drank. The water was heaven in her mouth; crisp, fresh, and cool. She drank three cups full before refilling it a final time. As she returned to the island, she held the cup of precious water high over her head.
She lay down under her shelter. Time passed slowly, and she was just drifting off when she heard a splash.
Jax made no attempt at stealth as he emerged from the water with three fish wriggling in the unyielding grip of his tentacles.
The first thing to catch his attention was the makeshift shelter she’d constructed on the island.
His eyes dropped as Macy, who lay beneath the raised canvas, lifted her head.
Her hair hung loose over her shoulders; it was fuller now that it had dried, and he imagined it would feel even softer. Seeing it brush over her skin made him long to touch her again.
She held his gaze as he approached, betraying no emotion. Jax was the first to look away; he pulled himself onto the land and stopped in front of the shelter, leaning forward to run the tip of a finger over the tight, neat knots she’d used to fasten the wind-cloth to the poles.
Macy had so easily repurposed these items to fit her needs. Was that one of the reasons these otherwise weak creatures were dangerous?
“You have been busy,” he said.
“I needed to get out of the sun.” She sat up. “Not like there was anything else for me to do.”
He tilted his head back. Only a sliver of light shone into the cave; soon, it would be full dark. But during most of the day — when the sky was clear — the island bore the brunt of the sunlight. Was it as uncomfortable to humans as it was to kraken?
Jax studied Macy. Perhaps it was a trick of the light, but her skin appeared pinker than it had before. She’d said human skin didn’t change like a kraken’s. “Your color is different. Does it take a long while for you to make such changes?”
She furrowed her brow and glanced at her shoulder, touching a finger to it. “It’s burned.”
“Burned? How?”