On the Deep Waters

Chapter Seven

Kit liked being awake at night. He used to do it more, but it got him into trouble, so he learned to sleep at normal times. Sometimes, though, he still stayed up late when he wasn't supposed to. At least tonight he had an excuse.

Kit could still feel the movement of the ocean as he sat near the smoldering coals of their fire. It was almost enough to make him dislike the ocean, but not quite enough. There were more glowing fish off in the distance; that helped. So did the sound of the waves. That had always been one of his favorite sounds. It always would be.

He couldn't let himself get distracted, though. Eto Shika had said this was pirate territory. Someone might try to sneak up on them. The fire was low, true, but the moon was still large enough to see by. That could mean trouble. Kit stayed in a low crouch as he kept watch. It gave him enough room to look around without standing up and giving himself away. IF he stayed low like that, someone approaching might mistake him for a boulder. That worked with animals.

Then again, people were sometimes smarter than animals. Sometimes.

Kit scanned the water, slowly turning to see if there was anyone coming to either side. As he did, he thought he saw something...or someone? There was another island nearby; there hadn't been anyone there, but it looked like there was something moving around.

Kit carefully reached for an arrow.

Suddenly, he felt like he was drowing.

He still tried to grab an arrow, but he suddenly felt lightheaded and strange. There was something in his throat—an arrow in his throat. There was an arrow in his throat and it hurt. He knew that he would be okay once he got it out, but it hurt while it was there. As he started clawing at the arrow in his throat, Kit saw clearly that there were people...coming out of the ground? Had they been buried?

It didn't matter; they were swimming over. He had to do something.

People didn't know about his heart. He had been very careful to keep it that way. That meant they likely thought they'd actually killed him, especially since he was lying down and gasping.

Some birds pretended to be injured to draw foxes away from their babies. Maybe he could do the same.

His skin was crawling from the sticky feeling of blood on his chest as he slumped to the ground. He was able to drag himself closer to Solomon. He reached forward with the hand not clutching his throat to poke his friend's face. He wasn't sure how hard he was poking him, but apparently it wasn't hard enough to wake him.

Solomon, please...

Footsteps crunched across the hand. Kit held still, gripping the arrow in his throat more tightly.

He would heal quickly, he knew. But this was still going to hurt.

The footsteps slowed. He heard the soft rasping of a knife being drawn.

That was when he acted.

A sharp tug yanked the arrow from his throat. Kit jumped to his feet, in time to see three men all in shades of black, knives drawn. They looked surprised to see him. The surprise didn't last long, probably because Kit threw himself at the nearest man and shoved the arrow in his eye.

The man couldn't hold back a pained cry. That was enough to wake someone, though Kit didn't know who. He was too busy trying to wrestle the knife away from the man he was fighting. He felt it cut into his hands, but he pushed through the brief flashes of pain. He was able to grab the man's wrist and shove it back towards his throat. A gurgling sound and the warm feeling of blood told him that he'd found his mark.