Who would this human be that I was guarding—and why?

And, perhaps more importantly: from what? 

I twisted, suddenly unable to find any position that felt right, and missed my window to sleep entirely, feeling all the krakens Sylinda had sent away slowly rejoining the local ‘qa. 

I closed down my thoughts to keep them to myself. The other krakens had no such compunction though. I could feel them without trying, each of them a bright pinprick of energy, living a life without shame, sharing trickles of everything on the ‘qa, until there were so many of them it felt like I was swimming in a raging torrent. 

At least none of them were thinking about me. Probably because Sylinda had threatened them when she’d sent them away. 

But what was happening now was almost worse. One by one I felt certain krakens fade as they fell asleep, but some of them turned their attentions to other matters. I clenched my beak to brace as a pair that was particularly close to me shot one another messages.  

“…do you know how beautiful you are?”

“You always say that!”

“Because it’s always true!” 

They were laughing and happy—and while I was glad it wasn’t my brother and his wife, it was awful none the less. 

“…come here!”

“Catch me!” 

I lifted my hands up and pressed the heels of my palms against my broad eyesockets, in an effort to somehow physically block out what I otherwise could not, as the most intimate thoughts of even more of my kind leaked in. 

“Let me lift you—” 

“…my arm is ready—” 

“Twine with me—” 

“Let me hide it in you—there—”

Balsur hadn’t been wrong. I hadn’t pumped, not even once, since Cayoni’s passing. And feeling all the swirling emotions of my countrymen and women on the ‘qa as they satisfied themselves was agonizing. 

The hunger and need of the rest of my kind flowed through me, and it made my pumping arm ache—the only thing that stopped me from relieving myself for the first time in years was knowing just how empty I would feel when I was through. I pulled myself against the rock wall with more ferocity, wishing I’d picked a different spot, one where the stones weren’t quite so smooth, so that I would have something else to concentrate on. 

And then the first couple that had started things finally finished—I felt their joy and pleasure splash along the ‘qa and it reminded me of all the times prior that mine—no, ours—had and I grasped the wall tight enough with all my tentacles to twist against it so that I could pummel the rock nearest me with my fist. 

Dark blue blood poured out of my knuckles and I bellowed in surprise, both with my mind and an open mouth. I’d hurt myself—but it’d felt good just to feel.

I’d forgotten what it was like to manifest pain rather than just having it live inside me. 

And while the other kraken nearest me sensed something—I could hear a few of them wondering, “what was that?” and “are they okay?”—I quickly managed to hide myself again, and all of their evenings continued. 

Me cutting myself had done nothing to stop them, but as the anemones I’d brushed on earlier turned off, one by one, the taste of my own blood in the water of the room reminded me why I needed to be alone.