I looked at the formation with new respect. The quantity of boulders and large rocks was enormous. With as few mers as there were and with their lifespan being potentially immortal, I couldn’t imagine how old this must be for it to represent so many mer lives. Of course, maybe at one point, their population had been much larger than now.
“That’s amazing that you can communicate with images! I didn’t know mers could do that. I wonder why Lelas hasn’t tried that on me. There’s been several things we’ve had a hard time talking about because of words that neither of us know.”
An image of Wrell, a little distorted in a way that it didn’t really look like him, but enough so I knew who it was supposed to be, came into my mind next. Really, it was the violet tattoo that identified him more than anything.
“You’re showing me yourself?”
Another nod.
I almost told him that we had to find him a mirror if that’s what he thought he looked like, because he was about a trillion times better looking than he realized. Probably not a good idea. I ripped my mind from his looks and considered why he’d show me a picture of himself. That seemed pretty obvious.“You’re the only one that can do it?”
He smiled.
That made me want to ask a ton more questions. Why? Have the others tried? Did he think it was a compensation strategy his body did since he couldn’t speak? Could I touch his body?Oh, fuck! Stop it!
An image of me broke through my thoughts, my face hazy and blurry behind my hand on fire. The brightness of the flame felt like it was burning my eyes, even though it was only a thought in my mind.
“Yeah, about that. I’m sorry if I hurt you. I’ve never done that before.”
He shook his head emphatically. Instead of warmth, a peaceful emotion filled my body.
“You were okay with what I did?”
He smiled and nodded. His hand emerged from under the sand. It startled me, but I managed to not flinch this time. He reached it out to me, and I grasped it with my own and held tight. For just a moment, I thought Lelas had been very wrong about her estimation of Wrell’s possible gay qualities. Wishful thinking. She wasn’t. As he squeezed my hand, overwhelming gratitude rushed into me.
“You’re welcome.”
The gratitude continued to build as his grip tightened, nearly bringing me to tears.
“Wrell, really. You don’t need to thank me. I didn’t know what I was doing. I’ve never done anything like that before. I was afraid I’d hurt you as much as help you. It was so obvious you were going to bleed out, I figured I couldn’t hurt you any worse. It was really just luck.”
His grip tightened more. It was starting to hurt. An image of him standing in front of me, strong and bleeding. A shadow of some nameless threat fell over him. Me behind, bright and healthy. I didn’t need any explanation for this one either.
“You don’t owe me your life. You don’t owe me anything at all. I’m just glad you’re okay and that this stupid power of mine was able to do some good.”I nearly explained about the boy on the beach I’d broiled months ago. Probably not a detail the mers needed to know about.“Can I see how you’re healing?”
He nodded and released his grip. He moved his hand over to brush the sand off his wounded shoulder. As he did, the sand fell away from the majority of his upper body, revealing the endless amount of bulging muscles encasing his arms and chest, so different than any of the other mers. His build matched mine—more like a football player, less like a lithe swimmer than the others.
As he dusted the sand away, I soon forgot about his beauty and his gorgeous body. His entire shoulder and portions of his chest were plasticized flesh, mottled haphazardly with chunks of tan where dime sized patches of healthy skin glowed through the blackish-gray and charred masses. It looked like most of that would leave over time. I could already see angry red skin showing where some of the burnt skin had flecked away. The splotchy streaks and stains of violet were the most disturbing as they puckered with his wounded skin, bled in and out of the healing red flesh, and then abruptly took form once more in the unwounded portions of the tattoo.
“Oh, my God. Wrell, I’m so sorry. I never dreamed I was doing that to your body.”What I thought would happen, I had no idea. I’d let my hand burn with fire as I pressed it onto him over and over again. Looking at the furious mess of skin, I was amazed he’d survived at all. For some reason, I’d though he would just be back to normal, the saltwater healing him, maybe. His mer blood healing him. But he wasn’t a witch or warlock. I’d been here long enough that I should have realized the implications of them not being magical or indefinitely indestructible like I seemed to be.
Again gratitude rushed through, a strange and disorienting experience as it mingled with my own horror and guilt about what I had done to his body.
Wrell grasped my hand once more and gave a hard jerk. I looked into his dark eyes, and they held mine in a fury. An image of him, still not how he really looked but large and strong, fighting sharks, the scars on his shoulder and chest flashing as he wielded his blade on the darting predators.
“I know. I’m glad you get to live, but I never dreamed I was—”
Another jerk of my arm, another flash from his eyes.
“Okay. Sorry. You’re right. Better to be alive and scarred.”
He gave a halfhearted shake of his head, as if he didn’t believe me, but let it morph to a nod, consenting that this would be the best he got.
I changed the topic.“Lelas tells me the tribe is moving to a new location soon.”
He stared at me. I imagined he was struggling with leaving his thanks only barely adequately received. He pushed through it and nodded.
“Will you be ready to travel? I can talk to them and see if they will wait.”Right, who exactly was going to listen to me, besides Lelas? Maybe Zef.
