[i]Breathe. Just breathe and it will stop. Just breathe.[/i]
Gritting his teeth and gripping the new bite on his shoulder, Shiro counted to ten with each breath and drank in the cold air of the evening. It was never easy, coming down from an adrenaline high. New muscles ached with every breath and the bites and gashes spiked with fresh pain with every movement. But it was his process. The more he endured, the longer he could last and he needed to last longer every time. Zarkon's fighters were getting stronger each time and his 'experiments' - merfolk bred with pedigree sharks and whales - were as unnaturally strong as they were unnatural creatures. He recalled his first encounter and felt his tail fin twinge with the memory.

He cracked open his eyes and looked down at what was left of his tail fin. He dared not lift it for fear of finding more painful marks and bruises, but his crude re-shaped plastic replica flickered dully back at him under the waves. He leaned his head back and looked from his post towards the cove. He was far from the depths of the fighting arenas and too distant to run into any of Zarkon's school of minions here. This little cove was his safe-haven, where he came to rest and mend himself. He was hidden from the beach within a cave and he rarely saw anybody come down to the little beach itself. Here he felt safe and alone. Here, the rush of the sea was calming and peaceful, not nightmarish and dark like the ocean he was trapped in. Around him, all he could hear was the soft slapping of the waves along the rocks and birds squawking and shouting to one and other.

This time, however, the beach was not empty. His sight was not as clear as other merfolk. His sense of smell was the strongest and he caught the scent of metal and oil, like a newly sunken ship. He could detect faint traces of blood and saw a long blurred figure on the beach and then on the dock. He couldn't make out the figure's features or what they were doing, but he could see the figure stooping low, then straightening up again and he felt a sudden sense of panic.

Shiro had been stuck in the fighting arenas so long that he had been losing track of any sense of time. He couldn't recall when moons or suns rose and had lost himself in the depths and darkness. When he had first found this place, he had felt safe for the first time in what felt like months. He could finally keep track of the days that he spent alive and felt in control of himself once again. When it was time to go back and fight again, he hadn't wanted to let go of the place. It had been the fear that Zarkon would find out about his secret cove if he did stay too long that finally dragged him away. The first few times were another blur to him. He began dreaming of lying there on the beach, of enjoying the sun-soaked sand beneath his chest and he could feel it slipping away from him again as his mind took over. So he had begun tethering himself to reality. He had counted the suns when he visited and for each one, every time he visited he would lay a piece of sea glass on the wooden protrusion from the beach. That would prove to him that he hadn't only visited in his dreams, that it was real.

Now a land creature was taking that away from him. He leaned forward, clutching his shoulder and felt his blood boil - who was this creature to take from him? What right did he have to steal? Shiro grunted as he slipped down into the water and swam along the seabed, using the depth as cover. He wasn't sure what he would do, but from the stories that he had heard, landfolk couldn't breathe under water - perhaps that would persuade this creature to stay away from his sea glass. Shiro slipped beneath the wooden structure and carefully lifted his head above the water to look up through the gaps in the wood. Here, he could see the landman and could watch his movements more closely.