Dreaded Creatures Glide

Consider the subtleness of the sea; how its most dreaded creatures glide under water, unapparent for the most part, and treacherously hidden beneath the loveliest tints of azure. -- Herman Melville, Moby Dick

“Excuse me, my lord, but I believe I need to speak to you.”

Paetor turned to face the man with irritation. He was generally attentive to details, particularly when he was at the marketplace. As a representative of His Grace, he felt he owed it to his lord to be dignified and meticulous at all times. He was put out, therefore, when anyone managed to approach him without him noticing, particularly when the man was like this one, gnarled and weathered and out of place at the dignified marketplace.

“And why, exactly, would you believe that, sir?” Paetor asked with thin politeness. In addition to irritating, the man was most likely extremely untrustworthy. The marketplace was notorious for its cons, and Paetor did not consider himself a man to be taken in.

The sailor, however, seemed uncomfortable speaking to him, a far cry from a practiced scammer. “I’ve – I’ve come across some cargo I believe your master would be very interested in. I beg you grant me audience somewhere private – that is, anywhere you like, I’m not trying to corner you – so that we can discuss the matter in… private.”

Paetor said nothing, considering this. It would be a bold con indeed that tried to rob or kidnap His Grace’s personal acquirer, and the man did not have the slick air of a liar.

“I am alone, my lord, if that troubles you, and you can meet me with as many of your attendants as you want,” the sailor babbled as Paetor stared at him. “And I’m not here to waste your time. I can promise you will be interested in what I have to show you.”

Paetor stared a moment more, just to reinforce his upper hand, but he had already decided to see what this man had to offer. He had three bodyguards, after all, in addition to his servants. “Your cargo is on the ship, I take it?”

The sailor looked surprised. “Yes, my lord. It is.”

“I will accompany you there, then, if it pleases you.”

“Of course, my lord,” said the sailor. “I—I am Captain Lee Tucker, of the Bellissima, my lord. She’s just this way.” He turned and walked in a sailor’s crooked gait to the end of the docks. Paetor took his bodyguards with him, as well as two servants, and instructed the other two to send for His Grace if he did not come out or send word within a half hour. Then he boarded the Bellissima, and not without trepidation, for she was an old ship and creaked alarmingly. Not a pirate’s ship, though, certainly.

The captain waited for them as they boarded the ship, and led them into the cabin. Then he looked uncomfortable.

“So,” said Paetor, after an awkward moment’s silence. “What have you to show me?”

The captain began hesitatingly, “I’ve been captain of the Bellissima for fifteen years, my lord, fishing dakee for ten more, and I’ve never seen such a bad season as this for fishing. Two days ago my crew and I were almost finished with our supplies and had nothing to show for our labor. We were desperate, you see. We’ve families to feed, most of us. We decided to venture the coast of Allenor, since we’d heard fish were plentiful there.”

“Look, man,” Paetor said, who thought he knew where this was going. He had no time for sailor’s superstition and bewailed bad luck. It was not a con, exactly, but it was annoying. “If this is some thin scheme to get a handout out of pity, then it’s a foolish one. I’m a business man, and I’ve no time for charity, especially for fools who go where they’ve no business going.” He made as if to leave.

The man nodded hurriedly. “Please wait, my lord, I’m not here for your charity. We all knew the risk. We’d all heard the tales. But we had no choice. For a moment it seemed luck was on our side, for we found fish the same night we entered the waters.”

“And then? Slipped through your fingers did they?” Paetor asked coolly, not prepared to leave just yet but determined to be unmoved by anything the captain had to say.

“It wasn’t dakee we found, my lord,” the sailor said quietly, and Paetor, who’d been about to make another cutting remark, closed his mouth. “It was… one of them. Wounded. It had been lemee we’d found, my lord, not dakee. It happens sometimes, they act similar, but lemee are far more dangerous. They had been attacking it, which was why it didn’t flee, I think.”

Paetor could barely think of what to say. “You don’t mean…”

“We dealt with the lemee first, y’see, since they can eat right through a hull when they’re angry, and these seemed fearful mad. By the time we had escaped them, it –”

“Dead?” Paetor asked tensely, although even the prospect of a dead one was nearly impossible to believe.

The sailor shook his head. “No, my lord. But far from its waters, and none of them had followed us, far as we could tell. The Bellissima can go fearful fast when we ask her, and the creature had been alone when we found it, I think. We decided to sell it, the crew and I, but I’ve only ever sold to fishmongers and didn’t know how to go about selling it. I hope you won’t take no offense, my lord, I know you’re hardly used to buying the goods right off the boat” – and here the captain smiled apologetically – “but I could think of no dealer to sell it to.”

Paetor sat stunned for a moment. Incredulity and suspicion still pricked at him, but if the sailor was lying he was the best liar Paetor had ever seen. And he’d seen a great many liars. “Where is it?”

“In the hold, my lord,” said the captain. “Would you like to see it?”

“I must,” said Paetor, and indeed the urge to see this creature pulled at him almost unbearably.

The captain nodded, and started to lead them down to the hold. “I must warn you, though, my lord, it’s no docile fish. In fifteen years I’ve never lost a man, but it killed my man Gaius with only two blows. It’s weak from its wound, and bound, and we’ve kept it without water for these past two days, but I beg you be careful.”

Paetor could only nod, his throat gone dry with expectation.

The captain opened the door to the hold and lit the oil lamp, and in its dank yellow light Paetor saw that the captain had spoken the truth. He gasped. The creature was impossible, unbelievable, and yet he could not deny the reality his eyes told him. The creature looked up weakly when Paetor advanced, and bared sharp, needle teeth, hissing at him and making clicking noises. Paetor jerked back as his bodyguards started forward, and the creature flapped its powerful tail as far as the rope attached to it would allow. Its lean, muscular arms were tied behind it as well, Paetor noticed with relief.

“The wound is on its side, my lord, across its ribs. We haven’t been able to tend to it, but I do not think the wound is fatal,” said the captain, drawing Paetor back to reality. The creature’s flat, terrible eyes were on him, and it was difficult to tear his gaze away.

“Why did you come to me, captain? Surely a bidding war would best serve your interests.”

“I know that, my lord, but I’ve only ever sold my goods to fishmongers, and I doubt they’d know what to do with it. Besides, this creature has cost me too much, I think, to make any amount of money worthwhile. Gaius” – and here his voice caught for a moment – “was a good man, a good fisher, and he left a wife and children. It’s said you’re a fair dealer, and that your master likes… exotic things. I beg only that you give me and my crew enough to feed ourselves and our families, and that you take it away.”

Once again, Paetor found himself speechless in front of this man, this tired, saddened captain, who was staring at the creature almost wistfully. “I will have men sent to take it as soon as I alert His Grace. I have no doubt that he will be more than happy to take this off your hands, and to reward you for allowing him first choice of it. You and your crew will receive enough to retire comfortably.”

The man nodded once, still looking at the creature, and remained so as Paetor ordered his servants to take his message to His Grace at once. “It tried to talk to us, you know, at first,” the man said when the servants were gone, and although Paetor knew he was addressed he felt almost as though the captain did not realize he was speaking aloud. “It spoke this high, foul language, and gestured with his hands. It wanted to be let free, I think. We didn’t listen. It was Gaius who told us to sell the damn thing, that its capture was our fortune… I shouldn’t have listened. I should have remembered what the old sailors used to tell me when I was young and foolish enough to love the sea.”

“And what was that?” Paetor asked, when it seemed the man would not continue.

The captain looked up, eyes flat and terrible to behold. “They told me to stay away from the merfolk, for no good can come of it.”

*****

His Grace, Horace II, Duke of Ritanno, was a man used to getting his way, and in his youth had been given to fiery temper whenever his wishes were denied to him. In his middle age, however, he had come to appreciate that in some cases, he did not know enough to wish what was best for him. Thus, when Paetor begged him to wait a few hours to see what he had bought that day – and at great cost, as well – he did not force the issue, preferring to trust Paetor’s judgment, which had yet to fail him. It was with great anticipation, however, that he approached the pool in his indoor gardens as Paetor requested. They came from the balcony which lined the pool, standing ten feet or so above it, and so he had ample opportunity to note the changes in decoration. There were more evening lamps lit than usual, he saw, and the great white marble pool was devoid of its usual exotic flora and fauna. More guards than usual stood in the corners of the room, and each bore a rope as well as their usual arms.

Horace turned to his servant. “What is the meaning of this?”

Paetor, who for all his virtues had a habit of simpering when in his lord’s presence, was uncharacteristically direct. “I met a man today, Your Grace, who told me he had caught a creature never before captured by man. I bid him show me, and when I saw what he had brought I knew I could never let it grace any other household but yours. I entreat you to look, Your Grace.”

Horace looked, and saw only a dark shape approaching from the other side of the pool. He took it for a large shark, and was about to berate his servant for exciting him over something so mundane, when the creature came closer and Horace saw a creature he’d never dreamed to see. It flitted restlessly and silently in the clear water, blue and shining. Horace gasped at the impossibility of the creature. He had traveled the kingdom, sampling all of its exotic delights and delicacies, collecting the most precious, and never had he seen anything that took his breath away like this creature. “It can’t be,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

As though it heard him, the creature came to a stop in front of him, perhaps twenty feet into the water, and surfaced, its head and shoulders above the water, its blue eyes locked on him. It was a male, Horace thought, a merman, for his torso was muscular and lacked breasts, although his sex organs were hidden. His face was masculine as well, with clear, defined features that would not have looked out of place on a classical marble statue. His hair was blue and braided, filled with shells, his skin tan over sharp, lean muscles and tinted blue at his extremities. Oh, but the tail! The tail was wondrous, even in the bent light of the water. It began at the merman’s hips, and stretched out in sea blue scales behind him. It tapered at the end before blooming into voluminous fins.

“He’s magnificent,” Horace said. “How did you find him?”

Paetor was about to answer when the merman opened his mouth, revealing unexpectedly sharp teeth, and began a series of shrieking, clicking noises. Horace clapped his hands over his ears, and the guards yelled at the creature to be quiet, but there was nothing to be done until he stopped. He did after a moment, but remained where he was, staring up at Horace, eyes unreadable. Horace was still, as though he were facing a jungle cat, and in a moment the merman ducked back underwater and swam away to the other side of the pool.

Paetor looked extremely nervous now that his presentation had been interrupted. Horace laughed at his expression. “He’s trying to talk!” Horace exclaimed. “How marvelous that he is a creature of intelligence!”

“Oh, yes, Your Grace,” Paetor said, looking relieved. “The captain from whom I acquired him said he was quite capable, although as you can see he does not speak anything remotely resembling human tongue. The captain also mentioned he was dangerous, Your Grace, and had even killed one of his men with its tail, which is why I have brought you to the balcony, rather than the floor.”

“Oh, that’s fine, very fine,” Horace said, feeling elation rush through him as he looked at his newest acquisition. “I love a creature with spirit. He put up a fine fight when you brought him here, did he?”

“Not overmuch, Your Grace. He was wounded when the captain and his men found him, which is why they could capture him. He resisted when we tended to his wound, at first, but subsided. He’s made no attack on the guards since he’s been in the pool.”

The duke was barely listening. He was transfixed by the easy grace of the merman as he paced the pool slowly but deliberately, like a shark before he pounces.

*****

Far Seer did another loop around the bland, pale pool, wishing the water were tinted a more familiar blue. At least it was salt water, he reminded himself. He pushed himself to the surface absently to breathe, and felt the eyes of the human on him again. He wished desperately that the pool had a dark corner or a cave, because the man’s eyes on him made him want to hide. He did not know who the man was, but he often came to the place above the pool and watched him for hours at a time. Because he could not hide Far Seer continued to move, despite the slight pain the movement brought to his wounded side.

Far Seer had heard many strange stories of humans as a boy, their strange legs and low speech, and to be able to see them at such close range was exciting. Their legs, so pink and fragile looking, were marvelously dexterous. They seemed weaker on the whole than merfolk, but they also had many more tools, so perhaps they didn’t need to be as strong.

Although, a voice from the back of his mind reminded him, they had been strong enough to capture him, hadn’t they. The thought made him angry, so he swam faster.

As much as he hated his captors, he still found them fascinating. He liked to watch them walk about and listen to them talk when they came to feed him, although he was as fearful and angry as he was curious. His watching seemed to make them angry, anyway. They threatened with their weapons when he got too close.

He had no desire to engage the humans and their weapons while they were on land. They may have been slow, but Far Seer quickly realized that humans could make far sharper weapons than any merman ever had, and that they were happy to use them. He had been terribly afraid when they had roped him out of the water the first time, and had lashed out wildly, yelling at them to let him go, until they tied him up and he could no more. For a wild moment he’d thought the humans would eat him, since he’d been told that humans ate everything, but they had only put foul smelling things on his wound and released him back into the pool. This had confused him at first, until he realized that it had made his wound feel much better. He resolved next time to try to pay more attention to what they did, if they did it again.

Far Seer had traveled many places in the sea, far more than most merfolk dared. He loved the feel of the open ocean, its playful blue surface, where he leapt with dolphins, and its cold, dark depths, where whale song echoed. He loved discovering new places, great reefs and sunken human ships, and his braids were filled with the most beautiful shells he could find. He had traveled to water so cold it was frozen, where black and white dolphins had nearly torn him apart. He brought back many gifts for his friends and family whenever he returned, and he loved to see the looks on their faces when he told them where he had found them. They laughed at his wild tales and were impressed by his feats, but he knew that when he left again they shook their heads and said that it was only a matter of time before he didn’t return.

He had been so close. A mere twenty five miles from his beloved beaches, a pittance compared to what he had traveled. And then the lemee had set on him, enough that he’d had to fight instead before trying to swim away. And then the cursed human ship. Had any of the patrol heard him, or smelled his blood on the waves? They ranged that far sometimes as they circled, ever watchful. Blue Arms might even have been there. She had smelled his blood scent enough times to recognize a whiff of it, hadn’t she? If she was looking?

But they wouldn’t be looking for him, he realized, and he swam forward faster, as though he could escape the thought that way. They would think that he’d found somewhere to spend his life, or had died, as indeed he almost had. They would never guess that humans had come out of nowhere and first saved his life and then replaced it with bleak white walls.

Far Seer had always been willing to forego fear for the sake of excitement. He was used to being alone, with nothing but the occasional glimmer of a school to accompany him. But he couldn’t deny, swimming in his empty pool, surrounded by alien creatures, that he was lonely, and very scared. His pool was as empty as the sea could feel, but there was no sense of freedom, or even the knowledge that somewhere, if he only swam far enough, was his home.

He did another lap around the pool.

*****

“So are its teeth really six inches long?”

“And does its actually deafen people with the noises it makes?”

“Is it true its hair is blue?”

Terry was half tempted not to answer their questions at all. It was rare that the other servants made conversation with him that wasn’t laced with insults, and he wasn’t sure if he felt like forgetting about all of the other times. “Food first.”

The others made way reluctantly, and Terry got some bread and oil. Assisting the doctor with his notes and unpacking meant that he had missed dinner, but the information he had gotten in return had been well worth it.

“So,” he said finally. “He didn’t want to say much, but I got a few looks at his notes. Its hair is definitely blue, as are its scales and hands, and its teeth are apparently very sharp. I’m not sure about the deafening, but he did tell me that it sounded like a dying cat underwater, so I doubt it’s pretty.”

The others digested this.

“You should ask him to take him with you next time,” said Jerry, the leader of the bunch.

“He’d take *you,*” George added sullenly.

Terry swallowed bread silently. He knew the other servants resented the doctor’s fondness for him, but there was nothing he could do about it. If the doctor didn’t frown so much on fighting he would have punched one of them long ago. He tried to make light of it instead. “That would be terrible. I’d just get in the way. It would shriek at me and I’d start running around looking for a cat.”

The others laughed. “And I bet you’d faint at the first sign of blood, too,” Jerry added.

“And wind up flat on his back, like always!” said George, laughing at his own pathetic joke.

Terry wanted to protest that, but he wanted to keep peace more. He laughed. “Exactly.”

“So what else did you find out,” Vincent prodded.

Terry tried to recall as much as he could of the doctor’s nearly unintelligible notes, and told the others all he knew. They were all crowded around him, the young men who worked in the doctor’s manor, and it felt strange to have their attention. He spoke as quickly as possible, and when he could remember no more he begged off, citing his sore throat and tired limbs.

That night, however, on the cot he’d slept in since he had moved out of the cradle, nearly too small for him now that he had passed his growth spurt, he thought about the merman. He wondered what it had been like to discover it, a writhing creature from the deep who could kill with one swipe of his ungodly tail.

He knew he was far too old to dream like a boy, but he wondered despite himself what it would be like to live as a sailor, with only the sea to judge him. He could go where he pleased with no one to criticize him for his faults, no one to watch his every move and find it wanting. If not for Doctor Suterno he would be gone, he always told himself.

Doctor Suterno acted like a frail old man with a kindly manner and a sharp mind, but he must be very brave, too. Terry couldn’t imagine facing a monster with a human face and inhuman strength, whose entire existence defied the laws of god and nature. He saw the sea whenever he went into the city to assist the doctor or fetch supplies, and had always wondered what its depths contained. He had always reassured himself with the fact that merfolk, like the other terrible creatures of the sea, the lemee, the sperm whales, the giant squid and sea serpents and devil fish, were always sighted many miles out to sea. The thought of one of those creatures so close, mere miles away in the duke’s house, made him shiver.

He dreamt of dark depths and the creatures that lurked there.

*****

The duke was eager to show off his new acquisition. He had been enjoying the creature privately for a week or so, watching him swim for hours at a time, but part of the delight in owning exotic things was putting them on display. He quickly had a fence erected around the pool, drew up an impressive guest list, and alerted Paetor to the necessities for the party. Everyone was to wear blue and green, he instructed, as he envisioned a room like the sea, with his flawless merman as the centerpiece.

As the duke was a man given to showing off his most prized possessions, his parties were highly renowned, and no one missed an opportunity to attend. The fact that this time the possession was a creature that people barely believed existed made the invitation irresistible. The duke’s indoor gardens were packed, and the greatest crowd gathered round the pool. Horace himself spent some time to better behold his prize and the expressions of all who looked upon it. From behind the fence, which stood about five feet high and three feet away from the edge of the pool, the guests stared with open mouths at the merman, shivering despite themselves, before they were politely but firmly pushed aside by other gawking guests.

The merman himself, Horace noted, seemed as drawn to the guests as he was fearful of them. As the first of them arrived he popped up often, peering at them and clicking ever so often. As more of them arrived and the noise grew greater he stayed under the water more and more, swimming in tight circles and coming up only to breathe. The guests marveled at his speed, and Horace reveled in their praise. He moved on to circle the room, excited to hear the merman on everyone’s lips.

The party had been going splendidly for several hours when Horace returned to the pool, drawn to the merman even while surrounded by attractive, fawning noblemen. The merman was swimming more slowly now, his eyes above the water as he moved. Horace was pleased that he had calmed down so much, as it gave his guests and himself a chance to admire his fierce gaze and blue hair.

The next day, Horace would tell himself ruefully that he should have known better. Any creature backed in a corner will eventually lash out, and the more complex the creature, the more devastating his blow. The merman had not been watching the guests.

He’d been hunting them.

The guards positioned around the pool had been careful to alert the guests that, despite the placement of the fence, it was best to keep back. Many of them had seen the merman struggle when his wound had been tended to, and spoke from experience when they warned the aristocrats to be cautious. The guests themselves stayed back from natural fear, understanding instinctively that anything so freakish had to be dangerous.

As the night wore on, however, and the guests became more inebriated, they became more and more released from their fear, and grew closer and closer. The guards did their best, as Horace would be forced to admit later, but the merman seemed to have no interest in approaching the edge at all, and perhaps they relaxed slightly.

It was a young noble named Arion d’Ersole, in the end, who stepped too close. It could have been worse. D’Ersole was a popular noble, despite his rather weak heritage, because of his boisterous charm, but he was also pompous and arrogant. If the nobles sometimes enjoyed his presence, they also did not lament his absence.

Horace was told later, by D’Ersole’s abashed friends, that he had not meant to get so close, and that he’d staggered suddenly. Whatever it was, he was suddenly in range, and the merman was on him before the guards even noticed.

Horace may have cursed as he saw it, but even he admitted it was beautiful. The merman was on the other side of the fairly expansive pool when D’Ersole approached, and before Horace could blink he was on the other side of the pool and launching himself out of the water. He crashed into the fence gracelessly, but his upper half cleared it, and he grabbed D’Ersole and pulled him back into the pool before anyone could move. From there he flashed to the bottom of the center of the pool, and the crowd, and Horace himself, was frozen as man and merman struggled. D’Ersole was a strapping man, barrel-chested and muscular, but he was no matched for the teeth and tail and speed of the merman, who made the blood red in seconds.

The body floated to the surface in less than a minute, and then the screaming began.

*****

Far Seer had been saddened when the humans had built a fence around his pool. He had begged them not to do it, even though the human fence itself was interesting. It made it impossible, however, to see the guards as they walked and talked to each other, or to see the exotic land plants that were placed around the pool. It had been noisy as well. The humans shouted a lot at each other, and hammered things onto things.

He had been unbearably lonely when the fence had been completed and they left him alone, but that had been only for two days. Then one night – he could tell it was night because the little fires about the pool grew lighter then, and high above the light that shined through the ceiling had disappeared – the humans had shown up. At first he’d been excited, rescued from his boredom and loneliness. He’d tried to talk to them, knowing they couldn’t understand but hoping they would try to communicate back to him. But they hadn’t. Instead they’d stared at him with frightened, human eyes, and pointed at him, and they’d smelled terrible and there were more of them all the time and they were all looking at him and he had no place to hide. He had almost laughed at one point, remembering how excited he had been when he and Racer had first seen a human boat, and had looked on in awe at the lights and noise and color. They had wondered for hours what it would be like to be surrounded by singing, dancing humans, and now he knew. It was awful.

For hours Far Seer had floated in panic, confused and upset and wondering how he could be so terribly lonely when surrounded by so many creatures. At some point, he could not remember how exactly, the fear had changed to anger, and the anger had changed to the pulsing need to hunt. And then he’d surfaced, and kept his eyes and ears open, and waited. He knew he could easily reach any of the humans anywhere near the edge, but that was not what he wanted. He did not want to clear the fence and be trapped on land, having pounced on some frail pathetic human. He wanted a big one, one they would find intimidating, and he wanted to snatch it up when it came too close and he wanted to show them that he was not an object to be stared at. He’d listened to the human din for a while and then his chance had come and he’d taken it, and he’d enjoyed it, even when it made the water filthy with blood.

Things had been bad after that, although he didn’t think anything was worse than being trapped under the gaze of the crowd. They had shrieked in almost recognizable tones, and the humans with weapons had chased him round and round and finally caught him in a net and pulled him onto land. He’d snarled at them and tried to swipe them with his tail, and then one of them had hit him on the head hard and he descended into the darkness.

When he awoke he was back in the pool, alone in the white waters, still surrounded by a fence and dull silence. This surprised him, since he’d been sure he was going to be killed for killing one of the humans. He swam in circles until they blurred in his mind, and when he was so tired he could drop he curled up on the side of the pool and dreamt of circles in the white pool. He could feel himself going mad, and he hated it, and he hated the humans, and he hated himself for being so stupid as to get caught.

One day, out of sheer desperation, he tried to launch himself out of the pool and over the fence, just to be somewhere new, even if the thought of being stuck on land with the humans terrified him. For the first time since he was a boy he miscalculated, however, and his shoulder crashed heavily into the fence. He tumbled back into the pool, and rubbed his shoulder as he stared at the fence and realized how low he had sunk.

But it felt good, he realized. It felt good to run up against something, to meet resistance and confront it, and the sting in his shoulder was worth that small spark. He stared at where he’d hit the wooden fence, and saw that he’d dented the wood slightly. He jumped again, and hit it, and felt it crack. And then again, and it cracked again. The humans heard the noise, of course, despite their relatively poor hearing, and came running. They were so strange when they ran, and he laughed and swam to the other side of the pool, watching as they tried to follow on their pathetic legs. He crashed into another part of the fence, and another, and laughed and laughed. He saw them cover their ears when he did, and this too struck him as hilariously funny.

Crash. Crash. Crash.

He had bits of wood in his skin, and both his shoulders hurt now, but he didn’t care. He circled the pool as the fence collapsed, letting the blood trail through the water and admiring the brilliance of the red against the clear waters and the pale stones.

Watcher, as he’d come to call the man who often stood above the pool and watched him, came too, and he rose out of the water so the human could hear him properly. “Come face me now,” he dared. “Come into the water and I will show you how pretty I am to watch.” And then he’d launched himself high and clear and true, and now he was above the human, as Watcher was so often above him, and descending, jaws open and waiting, hands stretched out to throttle him.

And then another of the damnable humans stepped forward, faster than he’d thought they could, and smacked him with a weapon, and he’d crashed on the fence and felt it shatter beneath him. His heard his ribs snap, and then he felt it. It was difficult to breathe, and he couldn’t move as the humans swarmed about him. They were going to kill him now, he was fairly sure, but as his vision and hearing began to melt he found that he didn’t care very much.