“ whoa, easy there. i’m not gonna hurt you.” ((from Annie
Bruce tended to restrict his out-of-water excursion to the hours following dusk. Even with the strange creatures running about, the Cetus wagered his survival against them more so than the currently paranoid and frightened townsfolk. The smaller eyeless creatures could likely take him down in as a pack; but if he kept quiet and downwind, the Cetus could manage to sneak past most of them.
He needed a larger, longer body of water. A river to lead him out of Indiana and, ideally, oceanward. The closest one was on the opposite side of town, according to a map that Bruce had studied outside of a trail post. Even if he did make it past the town, he didn't know if the Eno River lead to the Great Lakes. Even so, anything was better than wasting his days trapped in Sattler's Quarry.
Bruce hadn't expected any humans to be out. The air was hot and humid, with the lingering taste of a storm. Which was why he had chosen that night to travel to Tippacanoe, just beyond the junkyard.
Unfortunately, Bruce wasn't the only one there.
Just as the Cetus turned a corner, a human stood in the midst of the dirt road. Immediate panic settled in as Bruce arched his back and lowered his head, keeping a steady, wide gaze on the stranger. His soft spines flared up in alarm across his body and a worried growl escaped his throat. Twenty-feet long, and the Cetus shrunk back in a way that made him appear so very small. He felt rather small.
He expected the human to pull out a gun. A knife. A weapon of some sort. Or scream and alert any nearby humans. What he hadn't expected was a gentle voice lulling him to calm down. Bruce had encountered plenty of humans in his lifetime, and most reacted with fear or violence. But this. This was new. Yet the novelty combined with his unfamiliar environment failed to ease the Cetus' mind.
What if he spoke and scared the human? Would she change her mind, and suddenly deem Bruce a threat? The Cetus gave a crooning growl, uncertain and frozen in place.
