Wave Fourteen

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Leira’s eyes flickered open and she surveyed her surroundings. Her head throbbed. A soft layer of sea sponge lay beneath her; its squashy and porous surface had been ripped from its tough outer layer to form a mattress. She was suspended, cocoon-like, inside. It hung from the low ceiling of the cavern. The room was dimly lit by three orbs free floating around the small space. The walls were sturdy, but contained no sign of Mer culture: no carvings or etchings. The entrance hole to the room was black and she sensed no sign of any other Mer. Wincing, Leira eased herself from the mattress and swam to the hole. It was blocked.

    Curious, but unafraid, Leira’s mind drifted lazily over the events of the day. She remembered setting off from the Nest, early. Most of the ocean had been sleeping. She’d entered the abandoned cave network, knowing she needed to lie low there and block her Testers’ thoughts for a little while.  She strained to recall more, but her memories swirled like sand, revealing only patches: the twirl of a sea snake disappearing into a crack; her reflection sparkling at her in a vein of crystal; Cam’s playful laughter; endless tunnels; her father’s thoughts finally reaching her. So she’d failed her Test then, she thought idly. 

          Feeling strangely detached, Leira wondered why the Herd weren’t connected to her. She reached out to them, but sensed only static. Odd. Sighing, Leira swam back to the sponge mattress and peeled it around herself. Only her tail protruded. She swept it from side to side, and as she did, noticed a streak of white stealing its way across some of her scales. It trailed from her hip down to her lowest fin. Perhaps this is what failure looks like she thought carelessly, before drifting into a dreamless sleep.

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