Of Land and Sea

Prologue

The sea was beautiful today. No sightings of any predators, no pollution, it was simply heavenly. Basking in the little beams of light that came from above, the clear blue shining so wonderfully amidst the glow, Elliott was at peace. Simply floating in place, head tentacles swaying lightly with the waves, watching as big and little fish swam about. Occasionally he was greeted by a passing sardine or halibut, but for the most part, it was quiet and easy.

Elliott so loved days like these, where he could hang about, watching the local fish ecology blossom and thrive. Not a care in the world, lazily swishing his fin tail to keep afloat. After all, diving for human debris was only exciting the first go about, not practically every day like his job entailed. He never could understand how a species as callous as humans could exist, to taint the waters of other living creatures solely because they didn't live in the waters themselves. But he shrugged it off; as long as he didn't have to meet one, he wouldn't worry about it.

Besides, it was among that grime and filth that Elliott grew a new appreciation for the natural beauty of his home. The deep, vast sea he was so proud to live in, how the light shined down from above like sweet, heavenly rain. How the shadows hid such fascinating cultures, unique creatures that one would find nowhere else. It was time like this that Elliott thanked the higher powers for being born as a merfolk, to live in the great blue known only as the sea; as his home.

Elliott was jolted from his thoughts when he felt a slight bump on his back. After a startle, he turned around to see a rather panicked anchovy behind him, shivering and bolting all about the place. "Woah there, friend. What's the matter?" Elliott click in the tongue of the merfolk, the language that all creatures of the sea understood.

The anchovy simply stuttered, unable to mouth out any coherent words before it dashed off into deeper waters. Looking confused, Elliott looked around, only to notice that all the other fish seemed to disappear as well; hiding within their reef homes, terrified. Before Elliott could even manage a mental "What?," his quandary was answered as the sight of a shark caught the corner of his eyes.

Normally, sharks were rather docile creatures. Most fish couldn't tell, as sharks we so known for this predatory and ruthless nature to them. But to the merfolk, the ones who could communicate with all creatures of the sea, their true nature was known; that they simply were merciless hunters when they hungered, but otherwise they could be as friendly as any clownfish. In fact, they were often lonely, due to their infamous status, and how fish would cower and hide whenever there was so much as talk of sharks being seen.

However, Elliott could feel something... off, with this shark. It wasn't hunger that he recognized with the aura the shark exhumed, but anger, rage. Rage was far more terrifying than any hunger a shark felt, as when a shark was angry, they didn't care of slick, clean kills. They cared about torturous, drawn out agonies; it was only a natural response, but one that every merfolk knew to fear. With this now known to him, Elliott's eyes grew wide and he quickly tried to maneuver to darker waters.

It was too late though, as Elliott had stayed still long enough for the shark to acknowledge his presence. Soon the shark was bolting after him, mouth agape with its rows of sharp teeth at the ready. Elliott could feel it, the aura catching up to him, and terror struck him as if he was a child. Normally, merfolks would carry weapons with them, a simple trident for quick and painless kills for any who dared to threaten their lives. But Elliott was too much of a pacifist, too pained at the thought of lost life to even think about carrying such things on his normally. But this time he swore, this time he berated himself for thinking the sea's chaotic nature would take a break and let a day of peace come.

He could practically anticipate it, the feeling of those razor fangs tearing into his gilled flesh. An inevitability, as the presence of the shark became so much more intense. But still he beat his fins against the water, desperate to keep any sort of distance away from the murderous nature of an enraged shark. A creature that could be so gentle, yet so very dangerous all the same.

So deep in his panic, he didn't even realize the shark's presence suddenly taking a stop and the distance that grew between them until Elliott had practically exhausted himself from the fast-paced swim. When his mind's priorities was shifted from "swim for your life" to "stop and take a breather," Elliott finally acknowledged that the shark was now a good, steady distance from him, and not approaching any close anymore. Which confused and frightened him something awful; why would a creature as powerful as a shark just suddenly stop?

Looking behind him now to see if there was something else that attracted the shark's attention, Elliott didn't realize the net in front of him until he was already tangled up in it. A new panic now arose in the merman, as he desperately tried to thrash about to get out. Nets were by far the biggest fear of any merfolk, as nets meant only one thing; humans. Either a human left it out in a careless manner as they were prone to, or they were out hunting for a trophy. Not food, but a corpse to dry out and call a "prize."

And from the way the net tugged upward into the unforgiving sky, it made Elliott assume the worst was happening. That he had become the newest catch for the power-hungry humans.

He tried so desperately to break free from the net, to get away as best as he could, but the early chase had left him so exhausted that he could barely cause a struggle. His fins were just too tied up from the netting to allow proper movement, his arms tugging at the wiring so frantically yet making no leeway into removing them.

It wasn't long before the light grew brighter and brighter, the vessel which no doubt housed a human coming into view. With one last gasp for water, Elliott's gills were assaulted by the harsh stings of the air above as he was completely pulled from the water. Still trying to move about, his eyes so pained at the unaccustomed light, body lightly twitching as it lacked the water it so desperately needed to live.

Squinting his eyes now, his vision still so very cloudy, he could make out a signal silhouette in front of him. No doubt his hunter. With one last thrash in a vain hope that perhaps that was all that was needed to break free, Elliott's eyes closed as he accepted his fate, waiting either to dry to death or to feel something plunge deep into his chest.

Instead, all he heard was a "Whoops, sorry 'bout that, son!" as the net was lowered back into the water.