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Awareness. Fear. Danger. Run. The crab had nowhere to hide; it sat in the unprotected waters of the shore.
Relief. Crab is safe. No, not crab—I am safe. I am . . . strong?
“That’s at least a hundred kilograms of metal he’s carrying, right?” “Closer to two hundred, I’d wager.” “Well, definitely not human, but he’s a nice demon, at least.” Fergus bellowed a laugh. “Aye, that he is.”
Sergeant Snips cursed her beautiful, perfect form. She couldn’t form the mouth hole noises, and the master was so kind a soul as to not believe he could be a target of such nefarious plots. He was the type of man that allowed strange, furry interlopers to partake of his harvest; the type of man that would feed a crab without claws, gifting life for no discernible reason; and the type of man that was worth following. Perhaps it was for the best. She would be the one to harbor such dark knowledge and the one to deal out recompense. Sergeant Snips will protect. I will deal with the poisoner.
Who dares attack the benevolent Sergeant Snips—beloved crab of Fischer?
Why is it so fun saying things the locals don’t understand?
he’d be terrifying if he wasn’t so . . .” he trailed off, gesturing for a word that wouldn’t come. “Goofy?” Fergus asked with a smile. Duncan laughed. “Yeah, goofy.”
She stopped walking, blinking rapidly. “Are . . . are you suggesting what I think you are?” “Well, that depends—if you think I’m saying you can farm the land for free, then yes. If you’re thinking I’m offering for you to join me in maligning yourself to the absent gods and fishing, then also yes, but I get if that’s not your—” Maria slammed into me, hugging me tight and stopping my river of words in their tracks.
With Sergeant Snips and Corporal Claws napping peacefully in the sun, I made my way toward the fields.
I let out a great sigh. “Ah well, I supposed that’d make things too easy on us, huh, Snips?” Sergeant Snips nodded, definitely not understanding the nuance of my frustration, but still supporting me unconditionally.
Well, sound after Snips’s corrections, but that superiority was to be expected of Fischer’s first chosen.
This stone, this source of such beauty, had sat here for untold years, undisturbed and unmolested. She had come along at the perfect moment, the single glimpse of time each day that the sun would hit the stone and reveal the hidden magnificence of this place. She couldn’t wait to steal it. Master will love it.
At the sight of the treasures, she swam past Snips, intent on inspecting the treasures. They were reminiscent of the stones held within oysters but were larger and of poorer quality. Still, in other ways, they were better than the tiny oyster stones. For one, they were large, about the size of the rocks she favored; she knew she could use one to crack open shells, bonk predators, or even as a projectile against her shelled nemesis, Snips.
“That sounds like a lovely compromise, Fischer.” Roger started and spun. “Sharon—you agreed to go back to bed!” She smiled sweetly at him, but her eyes held a gleam of danger. “And we agreed that you’d let our daughter make her own decisions, sweet husband, yet here we are.”
How would you like to join us in—” “Will I be able to see Pistachio?” Gary interrupted, blinking his tears away. “If I join you, I mean.” “Er—I mean . . . yes?” “All right. I’ll join.” “You . . . don’t want to know what you’re joining?” “Nope. As long as Pistachio is there, I’m in.”
