Under the dark surface of the water, down amongst the mud and the mangrove roots, circular yellow eyes blinked slowly. She stirred slowly, blinking again. She could feel every vibration in the shallow stretch of water through her sensitive belly; a lasting awareness of every fish, every yabby, every eddy from the current in her domain.
She was an attentive ruler.
A shadow flickered on the surface above her, and she rose slightly in the water to drift closer, powerful hands digging into the silt as she pushed herself up. Her tail curved, silently propelling her through the water as she looked up. The moon hung heavy in the sky above, and she knew well that the surface from the other side was impenetrable, inky and black. She could see out, but the colourful ones who populated the shores, they could not see in. She lingered, scant inches from the surface, hanging in the water like the apex predator she was, head tilted back to watch the shadow looming above her with her wide, yellow eyes. Her pupils slitted even further, narrowing to tiny dark windows on the sickly gold expanse, and her nostrils flared, jaw unhinging to release the second row of sharp, spindly teeth from behind the first.
The colourful ones were tasty. With their warm, tender flesh, their hot blood, the torsos that were too short, and limbs that were too long, crunchy heads, grotesque imitations of apes. They were almost as big as she was, she could feed off one and bask comfortably on the shores for a week afterwards without feeling the pangs of hunger. They weren’t colourful underneath, the bright things were a thin, tasteless coating that her teeth slashed through the way her tail sliced through water, but the fuss of discarding it was always worth the reward within. Her stomach wasn’t tight with hunger now, but the temperatures were dropping and the colourful ones didn’t come out as much in the rains. It would be nice to have a full belly to go into the season.
Saliva pooled under her heavy tongue as she tensed, fists clenching at the end of her arms, stubby back legs twitching as she watched the shape above her lean closer and closer to the water. The rows of spines running down her back seemed to tense with the rest of her—oh she hoped this one didn’t have the fermented tang of the one last week—and there was the tipping point—
The almighty crash of the surface tension on the water breaking spurred her into immediate action, lunging for her prey as it fell in. Her jaws clamped down with bone-breaking strength, and she spun, pushing downwards in the water to pull it further under as she dragged the heavy meat into the silt, to drown to choke to snap—wait, this was a fish!
She spat out the already dead barracuda, recoiling with distaste as she pushed the long fish from her jaws, trying to disengage it from her teeth. Scowling, she stared upwards at the surface from the water. Not this again. She pushed upwards, breaking the surface of the water, scowl deepening as she worked a claw in between her teeth to deal with a stuck piece of fish spine. “You!”
“Don’t waste it,” said the meat girl lazily, balanced on a mangrove root with bare feet, one hand braced against a branch just above her head. “I went out and caught that special, do y’know how hard it was to catch one that’s long as I’m tall?”
“I’m going to eat you!” she hissed out in response, shaking her head to fling the sodden hair from her eyes.
“Should eat the ‘cuda,” said the meat girl, her eyes caressing the newly exposed side of her face. “I said I caught it special, Princess. Just for you.”
She was more colourful than the other colourful ones; not just colourful in coating. Her skin was darker, richer, and she had bright pictures of birds and flowers going up her legs. Her hair was many colours too, tied back, and clawed hands itched to grab at it, to twist, to pull, to drown—
“Not Princess,” sulked Princess, bringing up a clawed hand to stop her hair from falling back across her face with a grumble in her throat. “Going to eat you.”
“Aren’t you full’a tourist?” asked the meat girl. “If you’re hungry, eat the ‘cuda.”
Princess sent her a baleful glare, but she slowly sank back below the water, diving to collect the ravaged barracuda from where it lay amongst the settling silt. She emerged again, dragging it with her, closer to where the meat girl stood on the mangroves, chewing her mouthful with exaggerated motions in a display of stubborn resentment.
“Good, isn’t it?” teased the meat girl as she lowered herself to sit on the roots, feet swinging gently through the water. She was smirking, watching Princess eat.
Princess nodded slowly, eyes glued to her face, and she swallowed her mouthful with a loud crunch of fish ribs. She tore a hunk of flesh away with her hands and held it out, offering it to the meat girl, eyes narrowing to measure what she’d do.
The meat girl took the meat and didn’t even hesitate before bringing it to her lips, eyes meeting Princess’ steadily. At the sight of her blunt, squared off teeth sinking into the raw, pink flesh, something warmed low in Princess’ belly, and she released the barracuda, letting it fall back into the water without a second thought. She hooked her hands around a mangrove root and dragged herself up out of the water, eyes never leaving the meat girl’s face as she curved her bulk around her.
The meat girl pushed the last piece of fish between her lips, eyes following Princess’ as she moved, and she smirked again. “Not hungry anymore?”
“Going to eat you.” Princess moved her head in a fluid motion, pressing up close against her face, urged on by the sweet smell of ‘cuda on her breath.
“Yeah you are,” murmured the meat girl, her warm, soft hand cupping Princess’ cheek. Soft lips skated over hers, and Princess’ yellow eyes shut lazily as she indulged in the feeling.
When Princess pulled back, the meat girl smiled again, an honest expression that made the tiny lines around her eyes crinkle. She leaned over, picking up her version of the strange black device all the colourful ones carried. With a few taps of her fingers music started to float up in the air around them, and she tossed it back onto the dry dirt behind them.
That done, she scooted forward on the root, leaning in against Princess and wrapping an arm around her to trace the spines down her back. “Eat me,” she murmured, breath hot against Princess’ lips. “Leave the tourists be. You know I can provide.”
Rory Banks 