“ Damage report! “

Shroudsmaster Kurkela called into the swimming air, the voices, gullcalls and hiss of the sea. The engines were booming and the bosun was ordering men around, a whole lot of them lined up at the stern to peer into the boiling wake of the ship. The helmsman looked worried.

“ The steering doesn’t respond, sir! “
“ It’s probably the rudder — the beast hit us direct in the stern. “
“ Send someone to check. Carpenter! And stop the damn engines before we hit the rocks! “

At a minute’s delay, they begun powering down. Red heels clicking, Miss Kurkela moved up the steps to the quarterdeck, listening and watching on as a rope was set overboard. A great, dark shape was floating in the waves, but somehow— coming apart? Stages of decay, charged up. And no sign of the Captain and his colourful coat.

“ Miss Kurkela— The Captain. “
“ Fell into the warp. He’s dead. “ She declared, spectacles reflecting the hot circle of the sun as she turned to the first mate. His face fell, rife with discomfort. That meant—

“ Then we’ll share charge. You know the shroud, I know the ship. “
“ Yes. “

“ It’s come loose! Parts in the bottom! “The both of them turned to attention as a young sailor’s voice reached for the deck, giving inspection report. Expectantly, Miss Kurkela eyed the first mate.

“ Do we need it for the journey home? “ She asked, to the First Mate’s darkcast amusement.
“ Technically, no — The paddlewheels can be used independently of one another. “ Obvious enough to him.
“ But? “
“ What if they malfunction? We’ll be left without steering, apart from the bitch of the winds and towing. “
“ Alternative? “
“ We tow to the shallows. “ He said, pointing out the sands in the distance. By his tone, she could tell that was his preferred method. “ Get it off the water enough. “

She laid a hand flat above her eyes, shielding them from the glare. The sliver of beach arched off amidst the waves, a warm pale haven. Her frown deepened at how much she hated the idea of staying here another second. Fucking salt.

“ Alright. Get it done. “

A whistle ripped through the atmosphere.


*​


Off the ship.

The two other sailors both smiled, first at the lad, then each other. Jens nodded once, pointedly, and tapped Param on the shoulder, like sealing the deal.

“ Then let it be so. We’ll fetch the thing, later, figure what it’s worth and— “ He trailed off at the look on Delilah’s face, the knit brow and stillness writ with concentration.
“ What—“
“ Shh! “ She hushed him, clambering at and then past on all fours, claws scraping as she crawled up the sandbank they’d just cleared. As this was murderously insufficient, Jens repeated his confusion at her back.
“ What? “
“ Shut. Up. “ She retorted, laid flat as a prowling cat on the misshapen crest of the dune. He heard it now too, a strange, wet sort of sound just beneath the break of waves. Sloshing, overlaid with a sort of huffing and grunting. Like a hand diving into a man’s blown up guts.

Delilah’s tail was swishing. Jens arrived next to her in quick succession, poking his head just so to see the length of the beach. His breath left him in a whisper.

“ What the fuck is that? “
“ Beats me. But— “ Delilah sneered, squinting.

“ I think it has the Captain’s coat. “
 
A scramble up the dunes. All claw and quick flex. Tail set long behind him to help catch his balance with each dig and slip. Pressed flat against the sliced bar, sheet of ice-thin glass cracked and crumbled there beneath their weight.

It made the sun feel all the hotter. All points and jagged edges.

...It has the Captain's coat.

Pupils went wide as the Sovereign Moon. Teeth bared and every hair on Param's body flared out. Stood on end. Sprout out as bones shift and skull changed. Sand sprayed as a big cat, the color of dusk and midnight, bound wide about the thing. Pounced. Ripped through coat and horror with claws like knives.
 
“ Ey— “

That was all that left him as twice-smitten devils broke loose all at once. Jens stared, one red eye a wide circle as the carnage captured every inch of him, brought to a still and disquiet. For a whole two seconds, that was.

“ Ey! “ He shouted, a mix of outrage and reprimand, similar tone to when he’d called someone small and yet very stupid to let go of a harmful thing they’d just picked up. Such weak protest appeared to have no effect, as per usual, so on instinct he made to stand. Delilah stopped him before he could, claws digging to his shoulder.

As he fought it, she grabbed him tighter and jerked her head at the Sea beyond herself and the whirl of movement at the beach.

“ They’re coming. “ She hissed through clenched teeth. As if on cue, from the deck of the ship came the bright flash of a spyglass. “ The kid just killed the Captain. And we’ve— “
“ What— “ He started, appalled. “ No, I mean— “
“ You saw the shroudsmaster — betwixt her and the first mate, it’ll be bad. “
“ Fuck me. “

Delilah gave him a shove, but it was the opposite direction he would’ve preferred.

“ Bury the thing — I’ll figure the kid out. “

She was already rising away to crawl over the fucked dune, brooking no argument. The image of overwhelm, Jens watched her go and grabbed the bright wrap about his head, like a man at the races idly adjusting his hat by the brim.

“ Okay— Fuck! “

His voice died away as he turned, unbeknownst to whoever was already slinking over the blinding bright sand, strides long and bouncy. Delilah waved her arms, fire of her eyes burning white and fangs longer with fury.

“ Param! Stop! “
 
Teeth sank into wet flesh. Claws raked open scale with pops and tears that set glittering shards dashed red to scatter across the stained sands. Wash the waves in hiss. Snarl and rip with jaws-a-crunch. Red, ironfull, rust-tanged and warm, full against black coat and stained unto ivory fangs.

Whatever had been squelching and breathing under Param had stopped drawing its ragged pulls.

Whilst the ship churned the waves all the closer.

Eyes wide with murder, mouth wrapped around something which felt critical. An artery. A tendon. A wind pipe. Whilst claws pressed into the soft bits the more. Wet leather.

...Stop!

An ear turned first. Telescopic. Hairs there-in stirred with the sound of a familiar voice. Wide, light drinking, eyes turned with the keel of broad head. Whiskers flared, some ragged carnage still stuck between bite. Eyes of pale moonlight locked with those of fiery challenge. Teeth bared.

Param, beast that he was with coat of night's sky, and mane of stardust, flared maw. Tongue curled as chunks fell unto sand. Breath pushed out in low yowl and his set to rumble in the gut as all the hairs along his spine rose, and all the muscles on his bones coiled to pounce.

Growl, hiss. Fear and rage turned to spring and stretch. Paws and claws dig into sand and surf. Leapt and tangled as fore and hind bat and swat. Dug and kicked. Heads angled find fang's purchase.

 
At her words, she’d stopped. A distance that held guard, afforded seconds should her call not yield results. Beast stirred to attention and as they stared, the more she realized herself having spoken in vain. He was beyond it, made deaf to things of tongues when blood rushed the loudest. Claw, fang, instinct, the stir of hairs in the breeze and twitch of muscle.

Black silk under the sun, movement made so fluid they were like those of a serpent. Coiling up to strike, tail aswish and form taut. He turned and kicked, clawmarks on the sand and surf. The waves broke against her roar.

“ No! “

It’d turned guttural and low by the time it was done, her shape shifting and expanding, brought lower, as his landed where she’d stood mere seconds prior. She’d tossed herself aside and once her feet touched the ground again, they were not as they had been. The hairs at her spine stood up on end, shoulders rippling as she angled a broad head belongs to a big cat, pointed ears flat. Dark fur swimming with silver, school of fish in an abyss that’d swallow all light.

She growled, jaws ajar, hindlegs dug into the ground. Ready.
 
Against the sands Beast landed with scrape and spill. Water and earth sprayed up in curtains that shimmered and mucked, as eyes beneath pressed brows were wild with bloody intent.

Ears back, teeth bared. The low rumble poured out of thick fur twitching throat. Whole frame coiled low and ready to spring as tail twitched in flared fan behind him.

It was a thing that knew nothing but the instinct it felt. Danger. Threat. Fear. But it's eyes almost recognized the other beyond it. Might be that's why he hissed. That's why he yowled. Voice like storm heated air that howled against the cold.
 
What was that— a stillness, a hesitation? Biding of time.

Her shape angled as she begun a predator’s circle, experimental and confident, toes on the front paws curling into the ground with each heavy step. The ground felt different where it lay closer to the waves, more solid, cold beneath the softer sand. This wasn’t a stalemate.

She pounced once, twice, a zigzag. Not for the throat, but to pummel.
 
A rearing up, claws swiped rampant in poor defense.

Delilah was bigger. Delilah was stronger. Delilah knew how to fight. Her heavy paws smacked across ear, and jaw like clubs. Knocked the sense of pain and hurt into the newborn Beast. It doubled back quick, lashed out with claw and teeth. Desperate and sharp.

What did it matter if she bled? What did it matter if she hurt? He was afraid. He had seen that thing. He would not be that thing. Its horrid taste full in his mouth. Shroud-warped. Unnatural. Abomination.

Whole body flung at Delilah in a tangle of limbs and searching claws. Teeth yamming whatever bit of loose skin or taught flesh they could find.
 
Her weight landed close enough for the reach of a thrashing and she held back no blow if she could give it. Dull thumps, her teeth bared for the might and rage she put behind them. Too few — his skull too damn thick, for he wouldn’t stay down.

And the kid was fast, full of wide-eyed fear that’d will anyone to move and strike like no other. He lashed out, too wild, and she defended, swatting away the swipes of claws one by one. A sideways scramble as a low warning growl stuck in her throat.

She meant to meet his all too daring jaws with a punch of her paw, to slap him senseless, only for it to sail over his head. Exposing her entire front. A piercing pain was at the side of her neck as fangs punched holes to skin and she tore away with a swipe and a jump, trying to loose him.
 
Claws raked across side of face. A flurry of swipes as fur and skin gave way to keratin sharpness and enameled point in bits and chunks of tuft. Gold trailed and ran in ribbons and traces across black and silvered pelts that came apart with a kick that slammed into the new Beast's gut. Organs and spine beneath hide served like springboard to Delilah's escape. Sent the younger beast to crash and skate across the hard packed sand.

A wet heap, the young Beast rose.

Gold blood that gleamed like sun's light across the clouds, spilled unto the sands, wet with wave's crush. Foam tinted and tainted by that same stuffs that traced down the side of the beast's face. Dribbled from its mouth in harsh pants.

Something like recognition in his eyes. A low cry from the back of his throat as the adrenaline thinned in his veins. Almost a plea. Exhaustion began to sink in. Legs trembled.

First time. Wild hearted and hesitant.

The ship sailed the closer.



 
Fur and skin ripped. The cost of freedom was blood, a trail of those little drops in her wake as she went, landing in a wet slosh into cooler sand. Her face was set with pain and anger, baring teeth even as another complained and faltered. Heart, body.

She paced a semicircle against the surf, eclipsing the shape of the ship, her head pulled low as she eyed him. Ears twitched, listening to the breaths that’d pull in, heavier. Strained.

Water splashed as she launched at him, full force, just with her weight behind it.

Down.
 
A thump. Thuds and smacks. Wallops that sank past flesh and straight to bone and knocked the beast that had once been Param into the sand and spray with a hard crash. Made him hiss and yowl the louder and more pathetic. The last wailings of a desperation gone dry. Like a thing about to die.

Legs tried to land kicks and claws. But came up with nothing behind them. Save the press of paw against throat and the prick of claws there by the soft flesh of underbelly.

Another instinct took hold. As old as devan blood itself. The instinct to still. To freeze.

Death had come, and now there was but to accept it.

So. Down he laid. In surrender to the greater predator. Surf surge up across the shore. Spray against the twin beasts with cold salt and sea foam. Red washed with gold.

How it stung. The bitter realization. He had fucked up. He just didn't know how bad just yet.
 
The sea beaded on their skins like dew, broken wave snaking about limbs and the body of one brought low. She hovered above him, held him down with her greater weight at the end of broad paws and unflinching posture. Her ribs expanded, deflated, exhales leaving her in low rumbling. Warning.

But was there need? Another moved not, every inch contributing to an image of defeat. After so much in such little time, where even tens of seconds were too long, why wouldn’t it be true.

The Sun was bearing down. The last hour was in her muscles and the inside of her skull as she kept staring at the younger beast, stern from the high angle of her tail to the alert ears. Her muzzle twitched, whiskers shimmering as the sharpest edge of her anger disappeared. Claws weren’t curling to flesh anymore.

She shifted, casting a darker shadow as her limbs bent to bring her belly to the cool sand. To lay down mere inches apart from him, proud as a sphinx. Relaxed, but watchful, the bright of her eyes upon his.

And like theirs was all the time in the world, she would wait.
 
A moan. Void of anything the young man would think dignified. Down right embarrassing it was. But it stretched out from his throat all the same. Low and beckoning. A plea. For what? Even he could not be sure. There upon the sand, head raised to point his snout skyward.

A question.

Unsure.

Another yowl that rang high and hollow as it warbled with the crane of his neck. The surf raced out across the sand. Sucked at their forms, there beneath. So many grains turned curtains, ripped back toward the sea.

Death did not come. Part of him hated her for that. Part of him felt it would have been easier then. Not have to deal with whatever came next.

He pulled his head from the suck of wet sand. Muck and grit spilled from black fur, spattered by the dark. His eyes looked to her. Looked away. Fresh wound gouged under his eye where claw had raked sense into him.

A cry. Like begging to be left alone. Though solitude was the last thing it wanted.
 
A whine, the reek of shame or some other turmoil. Averted stare, though yet she traced the face against the blinding shimmer of the sea. Her stare narrowed and a yawn stretched her face, front claws drawing lines in the sand as a cat’s toes splayed and curled back again. Her shape rose sluggishly, ears pointed to front where he lay — defeated and so much besides.

The approaching afternoon had risen a wind, gusts and salt spray in her fur that glistened as the waves themselves. Two paces, three, the lowering of her head that she brushed against his, huffing out a breath. Calmer.

She didn’t have time to settle into a seat by him as something tried the crest of her back, like a grip but the fingers went within the skin, climbing up the vertebrae towards her neck. Not a friendly brush, too sure and rife with authority as it inflicted a pulsing ache. Hot nails driven to the spine. The hammering was getting more demanding.

“ Back to shape, sailor. “

The voice was spoken directly into her ears, a loud whisper. The large cat that she was, she spun in place and snapped at air around her, empty. In the distance amongst the billowing whitecaps stood a stall berobed figure, one red heel braced on the bow of the rowboat.

A hand turned, rotated by the wrist as fingers closed as if they were tuning an instrument, mechanically. Delilah felt every minute flicker of it, hissing.

The feeling in her body was uncanny, surpassing will as another browsed her current shape for what she used to be. Her ribs expanded and deflated at the same time, painfully as Shroud was bent, a burning in the roots of her horns, claws, every joint. What was meant to be a tide was a river and she hadn’t the dam for it —

A roar died in her throat, reduced to a whimper as she relented and sunk to the sand, smaller.
 
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