To Fly the Soaring Tides

Chapter 285 - 278 - Nature

Cira had no choice about napping this time. Watching a tree grow for billions of years was just an exhausting task for one's consciousness. Of course, Cira didn't truly spend billions of years inside the obelisk, or perhaps it would be more accurate to say that those many years were incapsulated within a single moment. Cira no longer felt so ancient out here.

If each moment of her life was stored in a single fragment of her soul-memory, then those billions of years took up exactly one fragment. That was the best way she could rationalize it, at least.

Cira stood again before the obelisk.

The fourth plaque was the first one she couldn't understand even a little by looking at it. The carved image was something like a full moon, but with an entire sun inside it. However, Cira knew this couldn't be right. For some reason, the sun reminded her of the wisp that lay drooped over her shoulder, but before it drooped, of course.

For hopefully the last time, Cira touched the obelisk.

Sometime during the countless cycles of the tree of life, when lush green canopies filled the world. Creation had entered summer, so to speak. There was a silent observer somewhere distant who had seen this far too many times. It could be said the finer points of creation now escaped her notice.

At the apex of a single heartbeat, on one short branch of the sprawling tree of life, a few drops of dew gathered at the crown of a dusty leaf to form a small, glassy bead.

Within that bead, waves churned into the horizon beneath a beating sun. silken white clouds formed in the sky, and schools of colorful fish followed their shadows. As day wore on the clouds dissipated, and vibrant glimmers flashed in the light, then on down through the depths.

Those glimmers were quickly swallowed by a shroud of darkness. It was another school of fish. They were much larger than their colorful prey, but their skin was harder and reflected no light, they had long, sharpened teeth. These fish were built for tearing apart other fish, then consuming them.

This was their nature. Just as the glittering fish avoided light to survive. That was their instinct.

A great deal perished, but the many were given reprieve as storm clouds gathered again. They didn't shine in this darkness and took the time to rest, all huddled together in a floating stasis.

Some could not settle due to fear, or perhaps didn't feel the need to. One such fish was emerald green in the sun, but black under dark clouds. It swam off from the pack a little, interested in a faint light from somewhere below. The light was just a speck, but it moved like those of its kin. Maybe it had found food, and there was still some left.

As the fish swam, the light grew closer until it was just out of reach. Then a brief instant of pain ran through the fish before it was cut in two by the maw of an unknown beast. The hard beak quickly lunged forward to swallow the other half of the unsuspecting fish.

Having gotten its fill for a short while, the creature drifted away, undulating its tentacles to propel itself back to the depths. This was an octopus who lived in a small hole in the rocks below the waves. This clever cephalopod had witnessed the fish swimming around before the storm, and decided it could mimic that by changing the color of one of its tentacles' tips to draw them in.

After easily acquiring this snack, the octopus naturally turned back to the color of stone and receded into its hovel to take a nap. This was a regular cycle, a routine lived by most days. This was its nature.

In fact, this happened a few more times until the storm cleared. The octopus never really wanted for food, as it too was a creature nigh-designed for catching prey. And thus, its diet was diverse. Sometimes it would scoop up little crabs as they picked algae off the rocks, or even those dark fish that swam up from the depths to hunt. Those fish were quite the feast, but they were dangerous. The octopus only dared to pick off strays if one stumbled too close.

In fact, the octopus had just finished resting after doing exactly that, and the clouds today were sparse. Warm sunlight traveled through the water all the way until the entrance to the rock hovel. The octopus then crept outside as if just waking up in the morning then just sat there, basking under the rays.

Changing colors in the light was somewhat pleasing. Usually, camouflage would be employed to hide from predators, but in moments like this it was to change the tone of that warmth on its flesh. The octopus changed blue to green, yellow and orange, then red. It often played around a little until the sunlight felt just right.

It wasn't hungry at the moment, so just remained there on its perch, gazing absently into the sky. Toward the source of that warm light. This wasn't a part of its nature, or perhaps it was. The octopus had always done this. Whether it was aware of the fact or not, this was in part the reason it lived so high up in the rocks.

Eventually hunger returned as it always did, and the time came to feed. This continued, of course, as storms swallowed the sky at the end of each day. Sometimes it gazed up at that distant light. But one day, the octopus was basking in the warmth and began to fall asleep, only to be awoken by a sharp pain in one of its tentacles.

The octopus woke up in an instant and saw a small chunk bitten out of its appendage, and a strange fish with a pointed snout and a small beak. This little fish had attempted to feast upon the octopus, who instinctively lashed out, curling its tentacle around it, but in the end was too slow.

The strange fish wriggled out and darted off into the distance. Ordinarily the octopus would let it escape. That was safer than venturing far, and it was not a poor hunter by any means. Other food could be easily caught.

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But it was just getting hungry at this time, and that fish looked quite plump. This was not a desire for vengeance, nor was it contempt.

The octopus had already retaliated upon awakening as a meal, and those survival instincts combined with hunger to escalate into pursuit. This was all in line with its nature.

The fish was fast, and the distance between them gradually increased. This went on for a short while and the octopus was about to give up, but the fish slowed. After such a chase, it had grown tired.

This was the time to strike. The octopus quickly gained speed, closing the distance to its prey over the next few minutes. It was just out of reach now, and the octopus could nearly stretch out a tentacle and grab it.

Then the clouds shifted, and a sunbeam illuminated a pile of rocks which rose from the sea floor. Water filtered the light cerulean and its dappling shimmered like a school of fish. The octopus' gaze traveled along the rocks as they lit up, forming a path to the ocean's surface.

It had never seen rocks breach the surface before, and the sight interested it a great deal. The fish had already escaped by now.

But the octopus didn't really care too much. The desire to land its prey had dissipated throughout the chase, and it too was tired. So, it was time to take a rest here.

One tentacle over the next, the octopus gingerly climbed the pile of rocks. It became warmer the higher it rose, and this felt pleasant.

The octopus did not stop climbing, however. As it rose through curtains of blue sunlight, it eventually reached the surface. It had been here before just swimming around, but this time it reached out another tentacle and climbed.

Then another.

One tentacle after the next reached higher than ever before. Until finally…

It was completely beyond the sea, beyond the bounds of the world it always knew.

And what it found was simply a pile of dry rocks. They were warm. Much more so than anything it had ever felt.

The octopus looked up, but that ball of warm light didn't seem any closer. Yet, the rocks went just a little bit higher. One more tentacle, and another. The octopus was starting to feel warmer as it climbed, so that must mean it was getting closer.

It didn't know why, but it continued pushing closer to that light. This didn't take long, and the octopus had reached the tallest point on the pile of rocks, about a few times its height above the surface.

This was the first time it ever looked out over the sea. The octopus had never had this perspective before where the waves formed a glimmering blanket over the world that stretched further than the imagination allowed. Next, it looked up.

This caused the octopus to grow frustrated. It did not know how far away the light was, but it didn't appear to have become any closer.

But it was so hot up here, and dry. Moreso than earlier, in fact. The octopus was struck with a sharp pang of hunger, and this failure was quickly forgotten.

The hunt began and a meal was landed in short order. Once that was finished, the octopus found a small hole in the rocks. Not far below the surface.

It held no desire to ever return to its previous pile of rocks. This one would be its new home.

There were no lingering attachments from its old one. It didn't have any belongings or a sense of sentimentality to its previous home. It was, after all, an octopus.

Another day went by, another fish entered its belly, and a nap ensued. Later, it climbed up to bask in the sun for a short while.

The cycle continued.

The octopus was awoken one day by a slithering beast that had found its way into the rocks it called home. This was an eel who held no designs of an octopus feast but had certainly interrupted its slumber.

The chase began almost the moment the octopus opened its eyes. Not for hatred or vengeance, but because it was hungry. Bad luck for the eel.

It fled into the depths, but darkness could not hide it from the keen eyes of the octopus.

The eel was fast, quickly reaching the bottom where it hid under a small rock. This ordinarily perfect escape was seen clearly by the octopus, who used its camouflage to sneak up stealthily. The eel could easily escape through the rocks if it knew, but it couldn't danger lurked just above.

After what seemed like a long time, the eel began to poke its head out, just a little bit. But this was its last and greatest regret as something attached to its side. The eel attempted to swim backwards but it could not escape the holding force of the suction cups.

The octopus pulled, but this fish was a powerful swimmer even backwards. So, one more tentacle attached to the wriggly fish to drag it out. It was truly panicking now, but its troubles did not reflect in the octopus' eyes. This was just the daily hunt for food.

Once it was about halfway out, the eel decided to wrap around the last protective rock separating it from the open water. This brought the octopus' unceasing pull to a halt. The eel was really intent on not leaving the small cover that rock provided and its flesh scraping against the coarse surface could be felt through each tentacle.

A little frustrated at having to work harder than expected for a meal, the octopus took another couple tentacles and latched onto the rock, pulling it up and away. The poor eel could offer no more resistance and was dragged in, beheaded by unforgiving chitin.

The octopus was satisfied with its success and took one more bite before relaxing. It followed the warmth and its gaze met that ball of light far above. It was so dim down here, so far below the surface. Then for no reason at all, it looked at the rock still firmly grasped in its tentacles.

In that moment, it decided to climb. This was a slow process between holding the rock and remainder of the eel, but it continued through the day. The sun grew brighter as the octopus climbed ever higher, but the surface was still quite far by the time dark clouds brought night to this world again.

If it dropped the rock, it could return home in minutes, but it did not do so. Instead, the octopus chose this place to rest until day returned.

And it took until the end of the next day before home was in sight. Fatigue was beginning to deepen. This was a perfect opportunity to rest, but it did not do so. Not when the surface was this close.

The octopus continued climbing with that light at the end of its gaze until the ocean fell away. The rock became much heavier then and almost slipped out its grasp. With one more tentacle for security, the climb continued, albeit slower.

This patch of dry rock was much smaller than the mountain below, but the scraping of stone marked a greater struggle. The rock tried to roll or got caught on other rocks along the way as fatigue transformed into a dull ache. The sky was still bright, and clouds approached. Yet that light above was starting to feel quite hot.

At long last, the rock had been dragged all the way to the highest point.

The octopus had grown exhausted, hungry, and had even started to burn beneath the sun. There was now a tightening in its body that felt unfamiliar.

It looked up at the rock, and out over the surrounding sea. Then…

It did something that was not a part of its nature.

It reached out a tentacle and continued to climb

This was a short one, but now the brilliant light was that much closer.

The octopus gazed upward, only to become deeply unsatisfied.

That light looked the same from here too.

Now again over the waves.

That too looked the same as before.

Crawling back down, the distance felt incredibly small. If there was something opposite to the success of a hunt, this was what the octopus felt in that moment.

Resigned, the octopus returned to the sea, then sunk back down to its home. The descent took mere moments.

Hunger had grown into something impossible to ignore, but fatigue was still stronger. And so, the octopus slept.