Ocean Kisses

Fire

Doc pov:

The figure, still drenched and shivering, moved toward the embers, his movements sharp and intent, as though he fully expected the fire to reignite on its own. His eyes flickered with frustration when it didn't catch right away, and he let out a low sound, a mix between a growl and a huff, as if the cold had seeped deeper into him than he'd anticipated. I watched him with a growing sense of concern. The longer he lingered, the more I noticed how much the cold was affecting him—his body trembled uncontrollably, his hands shaking as he hovered near the embers, trying desperately to coax warmth from the dying coals.

I didn’t want to stay hidden, not when I could do something to help. I took a cautious step forward, hoping that my presence wouldn't alarm him. The soft scrape of my foot against the stone must have alerted him, though, because in an instant, his wolf-like ears perked up, rigid and alert. His gaze snapped toward me, and I froze, instinctively raising my hands in a gesture of peace. I didn’t mean him any harm, I just wanted to help.

But instead of relaxing, he only tensed further. A low growl rumbled from his chest, a sound that vibrated through the air, sending a shiver down my spine. My heart skipped a beat. Despite the growl, I held my ground, my palms still outstretched to show that I meant no threat. "I’m not here to hurt you," I said softly, my voice barely above a whisper. I wasn’t sure if he understood, but I hoped my tone conveyed the sincerity in my words.

He seemed torn—his body language shifted between curiosity and wariness, his eyes flicking from me to the embers, and then back again. He took a step back, slowly, still not fully trusting me. It was completely understandable. I couldn’t imagine what it must be like, seeing someone approach you in an unfamiliar place with no idea who they were or what their intentions were.

Knowing he wasn’t ready for any closer contact, I stepped back slightly, respecting his space. I moved toward the fire, quietly and carefully, gathering a few stray sticks and dry leaves nearby. As I stacked the firewood, I tried to keep my movements slow and nonthreatening, just focusing on reigniting the fire and making the cave feel warmer.

I struck a match and held it to the dry leaves, watching as the spark caught and the flames slowly grew, dancing in the hearth once more. The warmth began to spread through the cave, filling the air with a gentle heat. I could see the figure watching me from the corner of my eye, still cautious, but his body’s tremors were lessening, and he seemed to be drawn to the fire’s warmth, though he didn’t approach just yet.

For a while, I just sat quietly, tending to the fire, not forcing anything. He stayed a safe distance away, his gaze flicking between me and the now-blazing embers. It wasn’t much, but I hoped it was enough to show that I wasn’t a threat. I wasn’t sure what would happen next, but the quiet tension between us was somehow comforting in its own way. The fire crackled, the only sound in the cave besides the occasional rustle of the wind outside. It was as if we both just needed this moment, this space, to adjust to each other’s presence.

I couldn't help but feel a bit awkward as I sat there, watching him—this strange, beautiful figure of the sea, so different from anything I had ever known. His movements were skittish, cautious, like he was still trying to figure out what to make of me, if I was a threat or not. Despite his growling earlier, I couldn’t help but feel a little bad for him. He was clearly cold, his shivers not just from the chill in the air but also from the water still dripping off of him. I knew how the dampness could cling to your bones, making everything feel much colder than it really was.

I glanced down at the snacks I had with me—just some simple things, but I wasn’t sure if he would be interested. The last thing I wanted was to invade his space, especially when he was already so wary of me. Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I should offer him something, even if he didn’t seem hungry.

He didn’t look at me as I quietly unwrapped a piece of bread, but I could tell he was watching the fire, the flames casting flickering shadows across his face. His wolf-like tail, thick and plush, curled around his legs protectively as he sat cross-legged near the warmth, his posture still tense, though not quite as guarded as before. There was something almost mesmerizing about the way he observed the fire, his large, glowing eyes following every flicker and crackle of the flames as if they held some secret.

I hesitated for a moment before offering a small piece of my food, hoping he would take it if he was hungry. "Are you... hungry?" I asked softly, my voice tentative, unsure if he would understand me or if he even cared to respond. His gaze flicked to the food briefly, but he didn’t make any move to reach for it.

Instead, he continued watching the fire, his face partially illuminated by the warm glow. There was something almost otherworldly about him—like he was more connected to the water than to anything on land. But as I sat there quietly, I noticed how his hands trembled slightly, the same tremors that had been shaking his body since he’d emerged from the water. Maybe he wasn’t ready to eat, or maybe he simply didn’t trust me enough to take anything. I could tell, though, that he was drawn to the warmth of the fire, a quiet longing in his gaze as he pulled his legs in tighter, curling around himself for comfort.

His shyness, his wariness, it all made sense. I wanted to respect his space and not push him further, so I decided not to insist. I set the snacks aside, letting them rest beside me on the ground, and instead focused on the fire, feeding it with a few more sticks I’d gathered.

The silence between us wasn’t uncomfortable, though. There was something peaceful about it, despite the initial tension. The warmth from the fire gradually started to spread through the cave, both of us slowly absorbing it. I watched him curl up closer to the fire, his wolf-like tail now fully wrapped around his legs, hugging himself for warmth. He was still watching the flames with that quiet fascination, but I could see his body relaxing just a little bit more with every passing moment.

The cave, once full of tension and uncertainty, now felt more like a quiet, shared space, the crackling of the fire the only sound in the air. I hoped that, in time, he'd feel more comfortable around me, or at least, that I wasn’t making him feel any worse. For now, I was content to just stay in the moment with him—letting the warmth of the fire fill the cave and the silence between us stretch on, undisturbed.