Flashback When The Sea Plays Tricks On You

[Anuk]

23 Fall 516AV
Suvan Sea, 14th Bell

　　　　 Anuk was surrounded by the sound of laughter and the creak of a modest reed boat, water lapping melodically against its bowed sides, as it bobbed on the wide, gentle Suvan currents. In the distance roared the surf as it met the desert coast, where, if Anuk squinted her eyes just right, she swore she could glimpse the brilliant gleam of Yahebah City of the Benshira. Syna glinted above warmly, though Her Fall light was not strong enough to penetrate the ocean, which was a deep, inky blue this time of year. High fluffy clouds hung lazily on the horizon, barely moving.

　　　　　　　　"Get out, Anu! You'll catch a cold!"

　　　　It was mother, worrying as usual. The demure Benshiran wife was leaning over the shallow sides of the reed boat. A disproving frown was set in her petite, pretty face from within an emerald shawl that covered her from toes to her raven hair. Admidst her earthy complexion were set eyes like azure gems. Anuk paddled her feet—well, paws—dragging the water back with her front and kicking fast with her legs behind her.

　　　　"Let her be, she'll wear herself out and get out when she's had enough." Soothed the baritone of her father. He was lounging in the front of the boat against the bow, chuckling at his daughter and wife between sips of wine whenever he could steal his eyes away from the leather-bound parchments laid neatly in his lap. His wife sighed and muttered to herself, since no one else was listening to her, she contented herself with a mild warning "Keep where I can see you!"

Anuk called out to her mother, though she had the sharp teeth of a lion, her roar was a squeak. It made the two Svefra crewmen on the reed boat accompanying her parents laugh. The elder man with scruffy grey stubble and a wool hat gestured and said something in fratava. Anuk's mother sighed and crawled down the boat to her husband to poke him in the knee. "What are these sailors saying?"
Father chuckled and peered over at the lion cub in the water.
"They are saying she is the wrong animal. They call her Little Sea-lion."
Mother sighed again and leant her chin on Father's knee, wanting her daughter to be anything but a lion in the sea.

　　　　Anuk was oblivious. A grin spread happily across her maw as she kicked and kicked, propelling herself this way and that. Twisting her body whenever the fancy took her to change directions and feeling the tug of the water under her front paws. Feeling the water slid past her, under her, over her back. Cold and wet and heavy. It made her feel light as if she might have feathers and drift on the currents, float along like a piece of driftwood, content to be carried to exotic shores.

　　　　If only she floated! Anuk had to hold her nose up out of the water. Whenever she stopped kicking and grabbing at the water with her paws she felt that joyful weightlessness for a tick or two, but then she would begin to sink. Then she had to kick furiously, as if she was chasing something, to get her shoulders up out of the water again. It made her pant but it made her laugh too. This floating and then sinking felt like nothing that could happen on land.
　

[Anuk]

　　　　 After some chimes of swimming this way the novelty waned. Anuk looked down into the inky water, so dark she couldn't even see her paws or her body. Mysterious. Anuk wondered what lay in the depths under her paws. She asked a Svenfra once how deep the sea was. "Oh, as deep as the sky is vast. There's a whole other world—down there. Kelp forests and coral citadels where rays and fishes and all of Laviku's strangest critters dwell." He'd answered enigmatically.

　　　　Anuk thought about the monsters the Svefra talked about when everyone thought she was sleeping. Too frightening for her ears, her mother had said as she tucked her in for bed whenever Anuk protested that she wished to stay up and hear the sailors' tales. "Just silly stories meant to frighten merchants into paying good coin for transport of their goods", Mother had scoffed.

Anuk wondered if they were real.

　　　　Kicking and paddling. kicking, paddling. Anuk took deep, deep breaths, closed her eyes tight—and—ducked her head under the surface. Her paws quit paddling for a tick, as the cub felt the wariness of doing someting untried, and there was that sensation of floating she loved so much. Then she began to sink, slowly. It was an odd sensation too—falling in slow motion.

　　　　　　　　Water engulfed her. Cold, dark. Muted and loud all at once in her ears.

　　　　Anuk's eyes were shut tight but she squinted them open, the salt stung a bit but soon she didn't notice the salt as her eyes adjusted. Gloomy darkness is all she saw and was disappointed. She wriggled this way and that, pushing at the water with her paws at angles to turn herself. It was too inky to see far. When she looked up, she saw the surface light fading.

　　　　The lion cub kicked her hind feet fast and climbed a wall of water with her paws to gain height again. For a tick the cub felt like she wasn't moving upward. Panic prickled at her. Until she saw the wavering reflection of the reed boat and relief seeped in—she was gaining traction it just took a tick to get moving in the dense salt-water.

　　　　As the cub was climbing up and up—something caught in her periphery vision. Something moved in the inky darkness—a shadow. Long limbed and sleek it was, though Anuk was sure she only caught its tail end as it vanished into the gloom. Startled—Anuk's paws halted mid-stride, though she kept her feet kicking to keep herself from sinking, as she turned to get a proper look. There was nothing there, just water and water. Anuk noticed suddenly how silent it was. Deadly quiet. If her fur hadn't been sodden it would have bristled as an eery sensation prickled along her spine.

　　　　Anuk shrugged it off. She had sharp teeth and claws—she could fight anything down here! Besides, there was nothing here except water. Feeling bolstered the cub kicked up and up and up until she crested the surface. Gasping for breath Anuk shook the water off her head. As droplets were rained from her sodden ears Anuk heard her mother's voice calling her name sternly. The lioness yowled loudly to let her mother know she was alright.

　　　　Though when she blinked enough water away from her eyes and looked over to the reed boat she realised with a gasp that she had swam farther than she'd meant to. With a determined squeak she decided she was ready to get out anyway—it was getting cold—and steered herself with tail and paws. Panting now, Anuk felt her legs growing sore with weariness, but she knew she could make it to the boat if she just kept striding through the warmth that was aching in her shoulders. So that she did, kicking and tugging, making a v shape as the water swept around her.

　　　　Yet it felt like the water got denser with each lengthened stride. Anuk was getting tired fast and felt the cold seeping into her, reaching into her chest and making her senses dull and sleepy. Ignoring the tiredness, the cub just kept on paddling a monotonous, but consistent, rhythm. That was the key, she decided.

　　　　She'd make it eventually; the boat wasn't moving.

Was it?

[Anuk]

　　　　 Anuk lifted her nose slightly to peer over the dark waters. It didn't look like the boat was moving and she could tell she was getting closer. But there was something in the pit of her stomach—that strange prickling sensation again.

Suddenly Anuk felt frightened for her tail, which was stretched out behind her limply. Her mind played tricks on her as she thought about the sea—'as deep as the sky is vast'.

　　　　 The Shadow from before loomed up in her thoughts—gigantic, dark, with sleek long limbs and a bulbuous head with big, cold, silver orbs for eyes. Her heart skipped a beat and she gasped—what if it got her tail!

　　　　Panic yipped on her tongue as she cried out. The gentle, lapping noises of the sea which had been fun before were suddenly punctuated with plopping and splashes that was definitely the sound of something big slinking about in the deep behind her. A tentacle poking up through the surface only to be sucked under again as the monster got its bearings on its prey!

　　　　Convinced a sea-monster was out to eat her tail, with heart pounding against her ribs, the cold of the ocean creeping into her limbs and making her teeth chatter, Anuk kicked like she had never kicked in her life and swam as fast as her legs would go.

　　　　After it felt like she had swam the length of the Cyphrus coast, she made it to the reed boat. Strong hands were there to greet her, wrapping under her arms they hauled her up out of the water. As the water cascaded off her in rivulets Anuk saw light swirl about her and then she felt those hands on bare human skin. Ha, the sea-monster couldn't get her tail if she didn't have one.

　　　　"That'a girl, now, let's get ye dried off and warm, eh." The old Svefran sailor beamed as he hoisted her into the boat and draped a heavy blanket around her naked human form before sweeping her long damp tresses out of her face. Made to sit beside her mother whose hands she felt rub up and down her back over the blanket a bit too roughly, a melody of Shiber scolding and affection alike as she chattered on. Anuk let her mother fuss over her as she shivered in the chill air and peered out at the cool, indifferent water—

　　　　—and gasped when she saw the sleek, smooth curve of some creature as it slunk away into the deep with a disproportionately gentle plop.

　　　　The kelvic turned big, solemn eyes to the old Svefran half-kneeling at the bow of the boat. As if he sensed her unspoken thoughts—did she really see that?—the old man's gaze turned to take her in. A subtle smile danced under his scruffy beard, and a mischief danced in those azure eyes. Anuk sensed that the man knew what she had seen. She sensed. too, that he had somehow been in cahoots with the sea-monster all along—to play a trick on her.

　　　　"The Suvan is as wild and untamed as any Drykas grassland, or Dhani jungle, or Vantha snow-caps." He told her later that evening, by the warm glow of lantern lights swaying gently with the roll and bow of the merchant ship they sailed on. The smell of sausages filled the cabin, Anuk paused mid-chew as the Svefra spoke, still finishing her dinner, ravenous after her afternoon swimming adventure.

"Like all wilderness, it must be respected." He gave her a stern look as he said this. Anuk swallowed her mouthful of beef and looked at him solemnly. "Laviku's seas teem with life. He keeps the tides and currents running, so that we prosper on the fish and treasures in the deeps."
"—There's treasure down there?" Anuk squeaked excitedly.
The old Svefra chuckled and scratched his beard. "Sometimes Laviku blesses us with calm seas, and Zulrav with strong winds in the directions we wish to go."
"Zul-rav. He's the Cloud Man, right?"
The sailor scoffed and furrowed his brow as he corrected her. "Zulrav is the God of the wind, the Father of storms."
Anuk nodded, solemn as she committed the tone of respect the sailor invoked to mind. Zulrav sounded like a God to respect, she decided.
"Laviku, now, He is generous to His children."
"The Svefra." Anuk answered proudly, despite not having any Svefran kin or ties, besides that her merchant father traded coin for travel on their ships.

　　　　The old man beamed and nodded, hunching over to bring his face closer to Anuk's, who unconsciously mirrored him until they were almost touching noses.

"That's right. Now, little lion girl, heed these words. Laviku is generous with His bounty, but, like Zulrav, like all the gods, He has a temper too. If you do not respect the seas—all its animals and plants and ecology—"
"E-col-ogy." Anuk murmured, echoic.
"Yes. If you do not respect the seas and all things in it, well, then you make Laviku angry."
Anuk sucked in a quiet breath, and wondered what Laviku looked like when He was angry. Her nose wrinkled lightly as she wondered what he looked like at all.
"He can give life, and He takes it."
Anuk nodded slowly in understanding. "Mother is afraid of drowning, like her brother did when they were little."

　　　　The old Svefran nodded solemnly and closed his eyes for a tick as his lips whispered a silent prayer for the lost life. Anuk peered into the old man's lined, weathered face and wondered what words he was sending to Laviku. She wondered, too, what Laviku thought of his children whispering words to him. Then she thought of all the Svefra she had ever seen in her short life and fancied that the god might get annoyed listening to all the words ever whispered by all the Svefra.

　　　　When the old Svefra spoke again, he smiled kindly. "You understand, little lion girl?" Anuk nodded, smiling in return. "Good child. Now, I'll wash these here dishes, and you go see what stories the others are telling tonight, eh."

　　　　The old Svefra winked, and Anuk chased off to see, her little head of honey locks filled with images of gigantic, grizzly and fearsome titans who dwelled in the ocean and in the heavens, listening to all the words their kin spoke and making the skies thunder and the waves churn whenever they were displeased. It struck the kelvic with a quiet awe, and curiosity.

　　　　Lo—as she was clambering up the wooden steps, with the feel of the rough, dry wood under her hands as she went up on all fours, and her ears filled with the creak of the ship and the waves crashing against the ship, and the chorus of voices and laughter in the next room mingling with the sweet scent of wine and lantern oil smoke—

　　　　— Anuk thought no more of gods and prayers.