Lost at Sea

It was a foolish idea. Eleanor knew nothing about humans, despite the fact that she had been one at one point. Other than they drown rather easily and they’re weak-willed, she was at a loss.

She had to try, though. This was the man she’d been dreaming about. At some horrible twist of fate, he’d been brought to her now of all times. She was determined not to let him die before she could figure out who he was, and, more importantly, who she was.

With a rock-hard resolve, she looped her arm around his chest and yanked him to the surface. Her sisters were still nowhere in sight. Once she was certain the man was breathing, Eleanor sped off toward her cove. The going was much slower now that she had to worry about an air-breather in the waves, but she was determined to make it.

Night was falling by the time she lugged him to their destination. Sharks had stalked them the entire time due to this man’s bleeding gashes, but none had been stupid enough to try anything. Eleanor was in full predator mode, struggling with the heat in her belly. Every instinct was screaming at her to take a bite out of his shoulder- it wasn’t like he’d notice- but her heart wouldn’t allow it. One thought kept up a constant chant in the back of her mind- mine.

She ducked beneath the surf, moving quickly because she knew he’d drown if she didn’t. It wasn’t easy, but she somehow managed to pull him onto the small crescent of sand along the edge. Laying there on his back, she thought she’d never seen anything so beautiful. His hair had come loose from the leather band that bound it together at the nape of his neck and was now tangled and splayed around him. It was only a few shades darker than the sand beneath him. She gently pulled it away from his face and stroked the light stubble against his cheeks and neck.

“Who are you?” She murmured, not oblivious to the quivering in her fingers and the need to press her lips against his. It would be so easy in his current state. There they were, slightly parted as he breathed in slowly, a light pink color that she’d only seen in the sunset. There was a hum that she could feel in her chest, like she’d be dead for so long and this unconscious man had brought her back to life.

She couldn’t tell how long she’d laid there beside him, propped up on her elbow as she traced his features with her left hand. Across the sharp curve of his jaw, the familiar planes of his tanned cheek bones, the velvety skin of his eyelids. The heavy-set brows and long eyelashes caught the dying light of day and reflected gold. He was so indescribably beautiful to her, and seeing him washed all of her guilt and self-pity away.

As she dragged her eyes away from his face, Eleanor realized that the man was still very injured. The sand around him had been turned a light pink from his blood. It was soaked into his clothes, smeared against his skin. She sucked in a sharp breath, jarring herself back into reality and immediately dove back into the water. What could she possibly use to stop the bleeding?

She closed her eyes and grit her teeth, struggling to remember something that could help her. Without her consent, her hands snatched up long strips of seaweed. This would have to do for now until he woke up and could tell her what a better solution would be.

She pulled his shirt up and pressed her lips together. There was a long gash from the bottom of his ribcage on the right side down to his left hip. He was still bleeding rather heavily, despite the time that had passed. Eleanor mumbled curses at herself as she worked, wrapping layer after layer of seaweed around the man’s stomach. Why had she gotten distracted? She couldn’t have waited until he was better to begin ogling him like a love-sick clownfish?

As soon as she was done, she slipped silently back into the open waters. Her mind was reeling as it attempted to fit what was her reality now and the world she’d come from together. That man had been a part of it. He was her key to remembering, to figuring out just what it was she’d left behind.

Now that she thought about it, she wasn’t sure she wanted to know. Why would anyone? But this intense desire to know-- to understand-- was all but eating her alive. Where had she come from? Why was she on that damn boat in the first place? Where was he while she was being murdered? And, a small piece wondered, what did he think of her now?

Based off of her dreams and the feelings she was immersed in when she was near him, Eleanor concluded they must have been lovers. If they weren’t, then her past self was probably just as intoxicated by his presence as she was now. The very idea that her infatuation had carried over from one life to the next made her head spin.

It took a great deal of convincing, but Eleanor was finally able to pull herself out of her reverie. Once she was thinking clearly again, she realized that he’d be awake soon and that he’d probably be hungry. What did humans eat, though?

She twisted her face up. As a siren, she feasted on the flesh of sailors. Somehow, she didn’t think that the stranger she’d left in the cove would appreciate that as a meal. So instead, she snatched a large, unlucky tuna that had happened to try to swim by and distractedly took the fish back.

He was still asleep, much to Eleanor’s disappointment. Humans were so fragile, she decided. Even more so than she had thought beforehand. Regardless, she left the fish in the waters, still alive for now. She hummed a haunting melody as she covered the entrance with the algae again, then spent the rest of the day and night weaving some reeds she’d found into a cover for the hole. The sun had risen well into the sky before she heard movement on the surface.

Her heart started to pound. It wasn’t too late to dart out of there. He’d be long dead in a few days, and if she couldn’t bring herself to eat him, then there was no shortage of hungry sea creatures in these waters. However, she’d already endured him this far. It shouldn’t be that much harder, or so she told herself.

And so, sheepishly, Eleanor peaked her head up just enough to breach the still surface of the blue waters. He stood with his back to her, staring up at the curve in the rock. His shoulders were broad and strong, his dirty white shirt hanging loosely in tatters about him. The holes gave a clear view to the muscles in his back. After her initial shock in seeing how tall he actually was, she realized he was slumping over his stomach slightly. One hand was pressed to the seaweed wrap around the gash, as if holding it in place.

Adrenaline seized hold of her muscles as he started to turn, and then she was gone. Through the small hole at the bottom of the pool, tugging the woven mat into place, and darting through the currents. Eleanor had not been afraid of anything since she’d been reborn. The feeling was completely unnatural, foreign. And yet, once she calmed herself and slowed her pace, she frowned. He was not a threat to anything except how she saw herself. She didn’t know the man, but she knew he’d never hurt her. There was no physical way.

With a heavy heart and reluctant thoughts, Eleanor forced herself to turn around. It was time to face the beast.