58. Preview of Citrine

58

Preview of Citrine

Whroahk

"It's intolerable," I growl, my voice tinged with an echoing click of disdain.

Normally, scents hold no sway over me, but today is different. This one stirs something within me, awakening sensations I had never known. It's as if I can truly smell for the first time, and the effect it has on me is... unexpected.

Terrible. The smell is terrible.

I can't comprehend how something so foul could permeate the surrounding air so completely. It's vile. Hanging heavily and assaulting my senses. It feels as though it has tainted the very essence of the world around me.

I shake my head in disbelief, trying to rid myself of the offensive odor that seems to cling to my skin like a suffocating shroud. But no matter how hard I try, or how many times I dip my body back down into the water, I can't escape it.

My stomach churns as I pull in each breath. It even makes me forget about my meal, which has never happened. My gaze darts frantically, searching for the source, but it remains elusive, hidden somewhere.

Then, from the other side of the stones, I hear it. A tiny grunt, barely audible over the gentle lapping of the waves. My eyes widen as I realize that I'm not alone. My meal, which fell from the sky in a streaking silver canister, is nearby, concealed from view by the rugged terrain.

Ignoring the smell, with a swift and decisive motion, I allow my tentacles to lift me from the water, propelling me upward with an effortless grace. The cool liquid trails behind me, droplets shimmering in the sunlight as I ascend the rocky outcrop.

Each jagged edge of the stone presses against my slick skin, leaving behind a trail of moisture as I scale the precipice. The rough texture of the rocks scrapes against my flesh. It is a sensation that is both exhilarating and uncomfortable. Nothing like the gentle buoying embrace of the water behind me.

I ignore the discomfort, my focus fixed on the mysterious, hopefully delicious, presence that awaits me above. This lake and its disgusting bounty of muddy creatures has driven me to take on unexpected new experiences. Never have I hunted on land.

What terrible creatures I would kill, crushing them to a pulp in my rage, for the chance to eat something properly raised in salt water. Finally, I reach the top.

With a surge of effort, I pull myself over the edge, my eyes scanning the rocky terrain for any sign of movement. And there, clinging to the top of a weathered boulder and just within reach if I stretch, is a figure cloaked in shadow, its features obscured by the dim light of the setting sun.

A thrill passes through my chest as I see the object of my hunt. A hearty meal. My tentacles are poised to scoop up the creature before me, but before I can reach out, bright yellow eyes meet mine, wide with terror. It slips from the rocks, tumbling to the ground below with a dull thud.

I study the fallen form. The creature is a female, I suspect. Though I'm not sure why that would give me pause. It never has before.

Bright yellow weeds are splayed around her, a bright contrast against the muted tones of the rocky terrain. As I study her, I notice the small, delicate frame of her body, far more curved than the females of my species.

Distinctly lacking in number and orientation of limbs to make her anywhere near as threatening as they would be.

Another whiff of wind drifts my way, carrying with it a stronger concentration of the unmistakable scent that invaded my senses earlier. I recoil, realizing with a start that it emanates from her.

An end needs to come swiftly, then, though I am disappointed that she will do nothing for my hunger. I lower myself down the cliff to reach her as I listen to her labored breathing.

Her body is delicate, almost childlike compared to the robust forms of my species. Even our young ones appear larger and more formidable than her. It's almost laughable how easily I could crush her with a mere flick of one long, twisting limb.

I lift a tentacle to do just that, excited to see her spill more of that red blood, even if it will probably make the air even more foul. I try to bring my limb down from where it quivers in anticipation.

I just... can't.