From Hades Lord of the Dead: Octopus
Not long after Smoke 16: Main Memories
"If you put another bee on my shoulder, you won't enjoy the results."
The quiet footsteps behind me stilled, then detoured slightly to claim the nearest rock.
"I did not intend to put a bee on your shoulder."
"Good." A glance ensured he did not hold one of his creatures before I let my eyes close again. Three perfectly placed rocks created a highly comfortable chair not three feet from the cliff's edge, and I enjoyed the sun and the waves far too much to move. "Productive trip to town?"
"Somewhat. The shop clerk did not have the cloth I wanted, but I can get that another time." Fabric rustled as he shifted. "Why are you out here?"
"Comfortable," I answered simply. He did not need to know that the crashing waves had first served as an anchor. "I wandered the pools for an hour or two. Rather surprised you haven't mentioned those in your letters."
"I told you about the many swimming holes."
The swimming holes, yes, but not the creatures in them. Confused amusement made me crack one eye. "You mean to say you never paid attention to what shared the hole with you? Even after the jellyfish case? I thought you might spend more time at the water's edge than you do with your bees."
A quiet harrumph failed to distract me from his reddening ears. "The bees do not sit on a rock until the waves return."
"They simply fly in circles searching for flowers." I could not resist a smirk at his discomfort, but the sun's angle promised a few more minutes before the incoming tide hid the pools until tomorrow. He straightened against his rock when I slowly pushed myself upright.
"Where are you going?"
"Back to the tide pools." Something to do also became something to use. Gunfire drifted across the channel again. "How many times have you counted the living things residing in a single pool?"
None, that dubious expression said. He had probably gone there once shortly after moving, decided he was bored, and not returned. Age had not changed Holmes' constant need of activity.
It had given me more ideas, however, as well as proven that he would follow me anywhere at least once. My cane steadied me to my feet before careful movements navigated the rocks I had been using as a chair.
"You could spend hours out here watching and still not find everything," I told him, a nod serving as thanks when his quick reaction prevented me from stumbling. "Anemones, fish, a variety of mollusks, and more all live in these pools. See the clump of barnacles on that rock?"
The small, cone-shaped creatures clung to a boulder at the water's edge, but he barely looked. Uninteresting, that said. It did not move, therefore he did not care, and silence announced his opinion of this plan even as we gradually approached the nearest hollow.
"I see three different fish already," I started, slowing next to a decently sized swimming hole with numerous small pools around it, and surprise flickered across his face when the passing fish startled a narrow head from beneath a rock. "Did you catch that small eel?"
He made no answer, attention now quickly jumping from one rock to another. I had been right. Too busy searching for an aquatic murderer, even that strangest of cases had not prodded him into truly looking in a tidepool. His gaze lit on a small body scrabbling over a rock.
"There is a crab."
"Next to a hermit crab," I added. One finger used my shadow to identify the creature without leaning over. "That shell used to belong to a sea snail, some of which are carnivorous."
He immediately likened the description to one of our more complex murder cases, as I had expected. "The snail tried to eat the crab?"
"Probably not that one, but a larger one could. Their relative sizes mean that crab might have eaten the snail before making a home in its shell, but the crab most likely found the shell abandoned. There's a starfish."
The creature crept over the rocks to reach a hollow, where it apparently found something to eat next to a gelatinous-looking cylinder. Holmes frowned.
"Is that a sea slug?"
"Sea cucumber," I corrected. "That's a sea slug in the next pool."
A moment compared the two equally disgusting creatures before he leaned over slightly, obviously following another creature's movements.
"Do you know what dove behind that rock?"
"That was a young squid. Come further this way." I limped four steps to the right, Holmes beside me until I could peer into the narrow channel that filled with every wave. My smile escaped. "It's still there. Look beside the anemone."
Another step balanced on a patch of drying algae as he studied where I indicated. The creature had found an excellent hiding place, so several seconds passed before the shape clicked in his mind.
"I thought octopi were warm water creatures?"
"Not all of them, and cold-water ones usually grow larger. The largest I know of is about half the size of the lion's mane, while the Indian Ocean had one smaller than your palm that kills with a single bite."
Recognition proved he had researched that poison. "The blue-ringed octopus?"
I hummed an agreement, pointing out several small fish. "It's both venomous and poisonous. A man cooked and ate one while I was stationed there. Died in less than an hour."
Explosions. Screaming. Gunfire. Blood.
No. I should not have mentioned that, and a rough spot on my cane served as a tactile ground while extreme effort pushed the image away. I was not there. I could not be there. War did not have Holmes. Or waves.
Or squid. The creature used a current to zip across its pool and into the newly accessible channel, and I turned back toward the cottage. The sea would cover the rest of our rock soon enough.
And that gunfire only grew louder.
Horror. Pain. Fear. Run!
No. I stumbled again, fighting to stay upright when I wanted only to get inside. With my rock seat too wet for comfort, closed windows and a distraction became my best way to drown out what my own mind could not. I needed to get away from the trigger, needed to put a door between me and the distant fusillade.
Needed to learn how to better hide the problem from Holmes. His arm threaded through mine, partially to prevent me from falling and partially to say he had seen more than I wanted.
"You still have not taught me that song you mentioned the other day."
No, I had not, and the melody gave me a better mental anchor. I continued leaning on Holmes most of the way up the cliff, but by the time we had settled in the sitting room, my thoughts focused primarily on how to translate the viola's octave to the violin's. Tension drained behind a series of notes nothing like the staccato volleys.
Maybe tomorrow he would join me at the tide pools again.
Thank you to those that have reviewed! :)