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And Will didn’t want to fight.

“Your father hit you?” Itori asked. There was a sharpness to the question.

Will met his eyes and then looked away, ashamed. “It’s fine, it was a while ago. Like I said, when you start hitting back, they stop.”

He could feel the intensity of Itori’s stare. “That is not fine. He should not…” There was a rumbling sound under the words, almost like a growl. “My kin can be violent, but not with our children or lovers.”

“What kind of violent?” Will asked, hungry for every crumb of information that Itori offered.

“It is protective. Most will kill a human that trespasses in their water.”

“Really?” Will wondered about that, how many water deaths were due to something much bigger than an alligator.

“Yes. But when too many humans die in one area, they come with machines and carve up the water. A few of our elders have tried to stop the cycle. Violence begets violence, but they do not listen. They only feel the threat, and react.”

“I’m glad you didn’t–with me,” Will said softly into Itori’s chest.

“Your song was too sweet,” Itori said, bending to nuzzle him. “I thought, how could he hurt me when he sings to me like that?”

Heat rolled over Will’s face. “I–fuck,” he muttered.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Will said. “I’m just sorry it’s become this. That your kin would rather fight first. I understand it, humans… humans can be awful.”

“Not all of them, I think,” Itori said.

Will took a deep breath and sighed it out. “I’m sorry we’ve ruined your home.”

“It is not your fault,” Itori said softly. “Not everything can last. Kin before us have died, and we too will eventually.”

“That doesn’t make it right,” Will said.

Itori was quiet then. Thoughtful. “No,” he finally conceded. “But I’ve seen what holding tight to bitterness has done to my kin. They reduce themselves to teeth and claws, and they miss the sun through the trees. They hear no sweet songs, only calls for retaliation.”

“Maybe,” Will said. “But you can’t just ignore what’s been done to you. Sometimes–sometimes you need violence.” Will wouldn’t have made it through high school if he hadn’t started swinging back.

“Maybe,” Itori said. “There is a balance. That is nature. The sun and the moon, death and rebirth. Sometimes you must fight, but sometimes you must find other ways to win. Or, if your time has come, then you must return to the earth.”

Will wrapped his arms tighter around Itori. “You’re not going to die here,” he said with all the fierce aching of his heart.

Itori crooned a soft hiss into his hair, squeezing him back in return. “When I am strong enough, I will walk on dryland, and I will find a new home,” Itori said.

Will didn’t say that he’d miss him when he went. It was a selfish thought.

Chapter 9

Will dreamt that night about keys.

In his hand was a thick ring of them, digging into his palm with icy, sharp teeth. They rattled against each other as he walked.

He wove through the thick brush, the dark landscape skimming against his pant legs as he followed the pull to where he was going.

When he got there, he stood before a vast and dark lake the color of wine. The water was still, and there was mist dancing along its surface. The moon hung low on the horizon, giving everything a soft, ethereal glow.

Will opened his fist to look at the keys. They glimmered in his palm like tiny knives, ready to cut his flesh.

A breeze came through, but Will couldn’t feel the cold. All he could feel was the weight of the keys in his hand. He knew they had to go where no one would ever find them again. Where they couldn’t hurt anyone ever again.