Ocean Kisses

After the Storm

Doc pov

The storm had raged on for another day, relentless and powerful, but by the time it passed, the air felt different—crisp, fresh, and calm. I woke up early the next morning, the remnants of the storm still hanging in the air, a slight chill to the breeze that had replaced the heavy, oppressive heat of the night. The fire was long extinguished, the embers barely glowing, and the cave felt quieter, as though the storm had swept away more than just the wind and rain.

I stretched out, blinking away the sleepiness from my eyes, and then my gaze flicked toward the water.

He was gone.

I couldn’t believe it at first, my eyes scanning the cave, looking for any sign of him. There was no hint of his merman form, no splash in the water, no soft sound of his tail swishing through the pool. The ledge where he had curled up was empty, the blanket of fur that had once been sprawled out across it now replaced by the quiet of the morning.

Had he left?

I stood slowly, my heart tightening in my chest. I didn’t know why it bothered me so much, but it did. He’d been wild and skittish at first, and I had to admit I wasn’t sure what to make of him—but in the days we’d spent together, I had started to hope that maybe he would let me help him. That maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t as alone as I had first thought.

The matted hair that had been tangled in his wild mane was still fresh in my memory. The storm had made it worse, sticking the strands together in clumps, and I had hoped to help untangle it, maybe clean him up a little. I knew it would be difficult, but I had hoped he’d let me, even if just a little.

I moved toward the water’s edge, my feet brushing over the smooth stones, but the pool was still and undisturbed. There was no sign of him swimming in the deeper parts or lurking beneath the surface.

A part of me wanted to go looking for him, but another part… part of me felt like I had to let him go. Maybe he wasn’t ready for the help I had wanted to give him.

The thought left a dull ache in my chest as I crouched down by the water’s edge, dipping my fingers into the cool surface. I could hear the soft ripple of the water, a gentle reminder of his presence, even if he wasn’t here.

I sat there for a long while, just listening, letting the silence fill the space where he had been. I hoped he was okay, wherever he was. He was fascinating, strange, and wild, but there was something in him that I couldn’t ignore—a vulnerability that I didn’t want to abandon.

Finally, I stood up again, brushing the dirt and stone from my clothes, and gave one last look around the cave. No signs. But still…

“I hope you’re alright,” I whispered to the air.

With that, I turned to leave, unsure of what would come next. Would he come back? Would I see him again? The only thing I knew for sure was that, in some strange way, the cave felt emptier now without him.

Winter had come and gone, and with it, the memories of the stormy days spent in the cave had started to blur, becoming distant echoes. The cold had kept me away, as much as I wanted to return. But spring brought a new warmth, the days longer, and a sense of renewal filled the air. It was then that I decided to return, to see if the cave had changed, to find out if anything remained from that strange, fleeting time.

As I approached the familiar cliffside, I noticed something different almost immediately. The entrance to the cave, which I had once seen as a quiet sanctuary, now looked altered. The scent of damp earth and moss mingled with the sharper, earthy smell of wild animals. There were marks—scratches on the rocks, tufts of fur caught on the edges of the entrance. Even the stones near the water had been disturbed, as though something had been pacing or roaming in and out.