#merbucky

The wind on his face meant something as it never had before because as he panted, chest heaving, it was the air fueling his lungs now instead of the water.

He was breathing.

With his right hand he reached over to stroke the indispensable octopus companion who had aided his swim and likely saved his life.

I wish I could tell you how grateful I am, Topi, he thought, but without words, actions would have to suffice. The squishy cephalopod had slunk back onto his left shoulder and squeezed its arms around his bicep reassuringly. Now we are even.

They could not stay like this though. As a human he had to put in more effort to move his arms back and forth and continue kicking his legs to stay afloat at the surface than he ever had with his fins and tail. He could feel his arms already bearing more of the brunt of the effort because these legs and their muscles were every inch of them new. The sensation of two independent limbs below his waist was strange and glorious, and all he wanted to do was flex and examine them, but he knew his immediate need was to get to shore. He swiveled around, looking over his shoulder, his body’s movement in the water sluggish compared to his mer abilities. Inconvenient and unexpected, but part of the deal, and nothing to complain about. He would get to land, and once he did, he would run.