His legs refused to hold his weight, and he toppled on his arse, but he didn’t care.He’d shifted to taniwha and back to his human form.
Success.
“Did you hear that?”a woman whispered.
Tawera lifted his head, more alert now.Every human in the large room—he was uncertain of the cabin’s purpose—stared in his direction, but they didn’t see him.He pushed to his feet and stayed upright, despite his trembling knees.At least the pain had subsided once he’d morphed back to two legs.It didn’t hurt to breathe now.Each even inhalation filled his nostrils with sea air and helped his ruffle thoughts to settle.
Nyree had suggested he experiment.Right now, he wanted to learn if his shift to dragon and back had changed anything else apart from his pain levels.Could these people see him?He scanned the room’s occupants and approached the smaller group who stood closer to an open doorway.He required an escape route in case the humans panicked.Tawera sidled nearer, curious since they chattered like a morning chorus of birds.They spoke the French language, but he had difficulty understanding every word.They used their hands in tiny gestures, their faces expressive as they burst into laughter.
Tawera cleared his throat and yanked a few French words from his rusty mind.“Bonjour.”
The laughter cut off, leaving the room strangely silent.
Tawera spoke again.“Good morning.How are you today?”
“Was that you, Georges?”a woman asked in a hushed voice.Her eyes were so wide, Tawera wondered if they might pop out and roll across the smooth wooden floor.
“Not I,” a gangly man said and tugged his right ear.
“Can you hear me?”Tawera asked, impatient with their astonishment.Why didn’t they answer?
“Y-yes,” one young woman replied.Her face had turned so pale dozens of golden spots on her nose and cheeks became stark and visible.
“What is your name?”Tawera asked, directing his question to the lady with the face dots.
“J-Julia?”Her name emerged as a question rather than a statement.“Are you playing a joke on us?”
This question came out in a rush, and Tawera spotted a tic in her jaw.Her hands clenched at her sides.
“No, my name is Tawera.Thank you for speaking with me.”Satisfied that others understood him, he turned away.
Every instinct told him he needed to rest before attempting to reach the shore, so he set out to explore the ship.Nothing about this vessel resembled the others he’d traveled on with the sailor.
Tawera wandered through another doorway.The wooden floor changed from hard to soft—the carpet, the curtains, the ornaments and flowers, the chandeliers—were far more luxurious than the basic ship he’d first traveled on with his sailor.He peeked through open doorways and followed a young man around as he tidied and cleaned what looked like a combination bedroom and lounge.He needed to ask Nyree what they called this style of room.
When the man left, Tawera hurriedly followed.He yanked at the door, relieved when it opened to his touch.When he stepped outside, he spotted the young man again, standing in the middle of the corridor.His expression held shock and astonishment, along with a healthy dose of fear.
“I’m sorry for frightening you,” Tawera said and patted the man’s shoulder.A hint of lemon and something stronger, more astringent, wafted from the man as Tawera walked past more doors.It looked as if this section of the ship contained more rooms in the same style as the one he’d just explored.
A thump had Tawera pivoting in his tracks.The young man sprawled on the floor, and Tawera rushed to his side, concerned he’d suffered an injury.His breath was warm against Tawera’s palm.Perhaps Tawera should get someone to help the man, and then he’d venture onward to explore more of the intriguing ship.
Tawera jogged back in the direction he’d come from and found a group of people talking to a lady behind a counter.At least that is what Nyree had called the arrangement.“Excuse me,” he said.“A man is lying on the floor down that passage.He does not seem well.”
The group fell silent.Not a one moved.
“The man is sick,” Tawera barked, and he watched a man spring into action.Reassured something was happening, Tawera went on his way.He smelled food, and his stomach let out a happy rumble of encouragement.From memory, hunger always struck him after a shift.He’d made it a point to eat as soon as possible to rebuild his strength.
As Tawera followed the food scents, he was aware of another urgent prickling.The tug of the moon.Did this mean his taniwha would force a shift in a few nights?No fair maidens were vying for his attention, so satiating his dragon in this manner was not possible.Not unless Nyree wished…
No!
Tawera refused to make her do anything against her will.
His brow wrinkled as he tugged at the thoughts.If he wasn’t mistaken, a storm rode on the air.He should discuss this with Nyree while they were both rational and not driven by moonlust.
Yes.Nyree had informed him men and women had frank discussions, or at least she’d mentioned most happy people had open communication, so he would approach this subject with the honesty she’d told him was healthy.
Tawera continued to climb the stairs in search of the delectable scents.They were unlike anything he’d smelled before, but it was definitely food.Nyree had described her life and the ways of humans, but seeing the truth for himself was still mind-opening.
