Chapter Text
A soft breeze tinged with the scent of the sea ruffled Lance’s hair and the leaves of the trees around him. He plucked a handful of blue-coloured berries down from the tree in front of him, pinching the stem between two fingers to twist them free.
The berries were called seafruit, and his family’s farm was known for growing them. Large sand fields sat spread out in neat, even lengths behind their house, up into the hills behind the nearby shoreline. The sand was submerged into several inches of seawater, since the trees required it to grow. They weren’t very tall trees, only reaching a few feet above Lance’s head. They had thin, willowy trunks, made not of wood but of something more like coral. The leaves were short and wide, like apple tree leaves, but clumped thickly together. They were a rich green, but the underside of the leaves was more of a pale blue, which was marvellous to look at from below.
The true star of the fields, as expected, were the seafruits themselves. They were small in size, but larger than the average cherry. One could take a bite out of them if they wanted, or eat the whole thing at once. The outer skin had a slightly glassy sheen to it that glinted quiet beautifully in the sunlight, while the flesh on the inside was soft and watery. The riper the fruit, the sweeter the inside. A truly ripe seafruit would have an almost crystallised skin, one that snapped like baked sugar when first bitten into.
Lance liked being out in the fields to pick the fruit. His siblings sometimes found it tedious, but he never tired of it. He liked wading through the seawater fields, feeling sand between his toes and the breeze on the skin. He liked the sun and the scent of the sea. He didn’t even mind how the seafruit stained his fingertips blue. It was always a beautiful sight to see the berries catching sunlight like the surface of the sea, one he never tired of. And from the fields, he had a clear view of the ocean, just beyond their hills.
Adjusting the wicker basket had had held on his hip, he reached up to the nearest tree to pull more berries free. They made pleasing snapping noises as they fell free of their branches.
It was a peaceful day.
Until something disrupted it.
Movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention, and when he turned his gaze away from the seafruit trees, he saw a giant wolf stumbling across the hill. He went perfectly still, his heart lurching, as he watched the dark beast lurching down the hill, unsteady on its own paws. He’d never seen a wolf that large, and he instinctively knew it wasn’t a normal wolf.
And, as if it could hear its thoughts, it started to shift.
Surprise flittered through him. Shifters were incredibly rare, even more so by the coast, where the terrain was too open for their tastes. People often travelled past the farm, or at least nearby – the hills were a pretty place to be with a view of the ocean, and the shoreline just beyond them was filled with a stretch of sandy beaches perfect for playing at. But shifters? Lance never saw them.
The wolf turned into a man, but this person didn’t look like they were here for the beach. The opposite. He was wearing dark clothes and a hood that shielded most of his face, but his clothes were scuffed and torn. There was a bleeding gash on his arm, and he was limping as he fell to his knees just beyond the field’s edge.
Lance dropped his basket in shock, scattering seafruit across the water at his ankles where the berries bobbed and floated. He rushed to the edge of the field and clambered out, his legs dripping water. “Are you alright?”
The man looked up at him, his hood falling back. He was surprisingly young – maybe Lance’s age, but not any younger. There was a scar on his right cheek, and a small cut beneath his eye that was still swelling with blood. The minute he saw Lance, a defensive glint came to his eyes, and he reared back with his dagger raised.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” Lance said, his palms raised.
It didn’t seem like the man had the strength to fend him off anyway. He seemed to sag against the weight of his injuries, his grip on his dagger trembling.
Lance approached, and bent to help the man to his feet. “What happened?”
“Hunters,” the man croaked.
Unease filled Lance. He hadn’t heard of hunters moving this far towards the shore before. Most creatures like shifters lived in forests, or areas imbued with magic, and while the sea was full of energy, the terrain was too open. There was nowhere to hide.
“Come, I’ll take you inside,” Lance said, pulling the man’s arm over his shoulders.
“You’ll be in danger.”
“My family doesn’t share the same view as hunters,” Lance said, “and I’ve already seen what you are.” Not many people who lived in the nearby towns and ports agreed with hunters. Their views were considered outdated and extremist – people like shifters weren’t dangerous, in the same way most humans weren’t dangerous. There were good and bad people of all species.
The man groaned as Lance helped him stand. He leaned into Lance heavily, his head lolling. His skin was hot where it touched Lance’s. “Thank you for helping me,” he whispered. “You don’t have to.”
“I know.” Lance helped him move around the seafruit fields towards the house. He knew his family would think he was doing the right thing. “You don’t need to worry, nobody expects farmers to be hiding a shifter.”
A brief smile touched Keith’s lips. “Thanks,” he said again.
“My name is Lance, by the way.”
After a hesitant moment, the shifter said, “Keith.”