Volume I: Forged

Chapter 15: Treasure

Fate really did just like handing kids to Phil on a silver platter, didn't she?

Phil had almost not taken this little walk by himself to get some alone time. He had almost just stayed behind and continued trying to fix the shower head (someone broke it—nobody would fess up) since that's what needed to be done on his never-ending list of fatherly duties.

Kristin had shooed him out of the house.

So Phil had wandered down to the beach and stumbled across something that most people saw seconds before they died.

A mer.

The creature on the beach had yet to notice him, the tall avian hiding in the trees that rimmed the beach, and that he was glad of.

Mers weren't the nicest of species, after all.

But this one was quite clearly a baby, at least judging from how small she was.

At least, Phil thought it was a 'she' with her long blond hair.

Did mer boys grow their hair out?

Phil couldn't remember.

The mer thrashed in the fishing net, trying to get out. Her calls were quite clearly that of a child calling for a parent—but Phil knew that no matter how loudly she begged and cried, no mer would be coming for her.

Any mer that touched land would be rejected from the pod, no matter the cost.

Phil remembered, as he listened to the child cry and plead with parents that weren't coming, why he hated the mer race.

Finally, the little mer collapsed back on the beach, heaving for air, completely exhausted. She was still crying, too weak to hold her own head, sobbing for a family that didn't love her anymore.

Phil stood, taking off his cloak, and stepping from the trees.

The mer whipped around with a burst of energy, sand scattering and baring her teeth in a deadly hiss.

It would have been scary, but Phil had seen Techno on a bad day.

This was kinda adorable if he was honest.

"Hello, sweet," he said calmly. He let his feathers fluff up, hoping that the presence of another hybrid would ease her fears.

It kinda worked—sort of.

The little girl's tail—scattered pinks and blues and golds—flipped nervously, but she stopped hissing.

"You're a pretty little thing, aren't you?" Phil said, knowing flattery often worked on little kids. It had worked well enough on Skeppy and Dream anyway.

In truth, the poor girl looked as though she had been dragged through a coral reef.

Her shirt appeared to be made out of some form of seaweed with pretty little shells woven in it to make a pattern. Around her waist, where her tail met her body, a wrap of cloth with beads sewn in was tied around her to make a kind of skirt. Her tangled locks fell over her shoulders, held away from her face with coral clips, and her big blue eyes held a watery fear that made Phil feel incredibly guilty.

He'd cry too, if he was abandoned, helplessly small, all wrapped up in a fishing net, with a stranger standing over him.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Phil said, kneeling down so he wouldn't tower over her. "You just look a little lost."

"They kicked me out."

Phil started at her voice. It was soft and bright, honey and cocoa, light and airy. So sugary sweet and precious—Phil's heart melted right then and there.