I blink at the green-yellow item. Acoconut.
Wait.
I hesitate when I reach for it. “Is it for me?” I swing my gaze between the two creatures.
Vasz chuffs a noise that sounds eerily like “Duh.”
I snatch the coconut off the ground before he can change his mind. I use more of my energy reserves to turn the fruit around to search for major cracks. There are holes from his teeth, but they haven’t punctured very deep.
“The knife.” For the first time today, a flutter of hope starts in my chest. “Get me the knife,” I repeat to Ordus.
He leaves without question, saying something to Vasz in a language I don’t understand. The shark-dog rolls his eyes then fixes his focus on me, tipping his head side to side. I studythe fruit, praying to every god and goddess it’s not filled with seawater.
I look around the beach for a solid surface and pull myself onto my feet to stumble for it. I’m panting from the minute walk it takes to reach the stone.
Ordus returns soon after, handing me the weapon with no care that I might use it to kill him. I stare at the blade for a moment. It’s different to the one I stabbed him with.
Grabbing a fistful of my dress, I clean it as best as I can. I’ll just need to accept that food poisoning is my other greatest threat.
Taking a deep breath, I balance the coconut on the stone and raise the knife above my head.Here goes nothing.I use the force of gravity to plunge the blade into the upper half of the fruit before taking it out.
Liquid sputters and spurts from the gap, foaming around where the thin hole is. I repeat the process three more times, careful not to crack the husk. Each stab takes more energy than the last until I’m buckling over, my injured hand splayed out to hold my weight as a wave of lethargy hits me.
I can feel the two creatures watching me—a quick glance at Vasz tells me he thinks I’m committing sacrilege.
There are better ways to be doing this, but I don’t trust myself not to fuck it up and waste any juice that might be inside.
I rock back on my heels, inspecting the banged-up square I’ve made, wedging the pointed edge to dislodge the lid so I can peek inside. It smells like coconut and the sea, and I can’t for the life of me figure out if the liquid inside will kill me or not. I don’t know jack shit about what the inside is meant to look like. I only know what it looks like in a can, plastic bottle, or a glass mixed with rum and pineapple.
Giving up, I bring it to my mouth without hesitation, ignoring the fact that I swear I can taste Vasz’s slobber. The firstdrop of liquid hits my tongue, and my eyes drift shut. Sweetness explodes over my taste buds. It trickles down the back of my throat. A moan builds deep in my chest, and I’m out of fucks to stop it.
I might as well be drinking the elixir of the gods.
It’s the best thing I’ve ever had.
I can’t think about pacing myself. I drink every last drop, tipping my head back and shaking the coconut until nothing else comes out.
I grab the knife and chop the top off with renewed energy, scraping the flesh before I put that baby right into my mouth, nibbling at the meat I’ve never dared to eat before. I try stripping the skin off instead to savor all I can.
By the time I’m done, the sun has fallen beneath the horizon, and I learn what a shark-dog looks like when he’s mortified.
“Good boy,” I say without thinking, patting his head.
My stomach is full, my throat doesn’t feel like sandpaper, and I think I could cry from such a simple joy.
I scratch the back of his ear, muttering, “Good job, Coco. You’re so good. You’re such a good boy.”
His eyes light up, and his tongue lolls to the side like he’s in heaven.
“Coco? Yeah? That’s a better name for you, huh?” I coo. “Can you get me more coconuts?” Hope is alight in my tone.
He yips and runs back into the water, faster than I’ve seen him move.
Maybe I won’t die after all, and it might all be because of a shark-dog named after petroleum jelly.
16
Vasz
