At sea, Loch was a force to be reckoned with—a fearsome hunter, who pursued his prey so relentlessly that they rarely escaped his claws or teeth. On land, however, it was another story, as he was still learning how to use his newly acquired legs. Just staying upright for minutes at a time was a challenge, and he’d yet to master the art of walking; still, he was hungry, and that hunger had driven him into the wilderness, where he’d given chase after the first living thing he had seen—a small, furry creature with long ears and beady little eyes. He was determined to make a meal of it, but it was difficult, running through the trees. He kept tripping over roots and rocks and his own feet, and the creature was much faster than him, despite its tiny legs.

It was frustrating, struggling so much when hunting should have been easy for him. But he refused to give up; this land would not, could not, get the better of him, not when he’d resolved to start his new life here. No matter how hard it was, or how long it took, he would learn the ways of mortal men. That meant walking and talking like them, and hunting like they hunted, though he saw no real reason to rely on tools like they did. The killing he could do with his own hands.

He considered changing forms—shedding his mortal skin for the one more attuned to chasing and killing—but that would only make him less mobile, while still on land. So he stuck with his legs, and stumbled after his prey, letting his other senses lead him when sight alone failed him. It ran through the undergrowth, a greyish-brown blur that seemed no closer to tiring than Loch was, though he knew that it couldn’t flee forever; sooner or later, it would slow down, and when it did, he would snatch it up and wring the life from its little neck. He could almost hear it, now—the satisfying snap of its bones…

When he fell again, he caught himself before he could hit the ground. But he wasn’t fast enough to get back up and stop the creature before it dove into a hole in the ground. Lunging after it, he stuck his arm down in the hole, all the way up to his shoulder, but his fingers grasped at nothing. Then he thought to dig, and started clawing away at the grass and dirt. After a while, however, he stopped and, with a little irritated huff, reluctantly conceded defeat. The creature had escaped; where it was now, he couldn’t say, but he doubted that he’d be seeing it again. There was always a chance that it would come back out of the hole if he sat and waited, but patience was a thing he had very little of. Why wait, anyway, when he could just as easily go and find something else to eat?

Lifting his nose to the air, Loch took in all the strange, unfamiliar scents around him. There were dozens of creatures, it seemed—other things, too, that didn’t seem alive but smelled just as interesting. And it was the latter that drew him in a different direction. He wobbled into a copse of trees, where he found the mouth of a cave. From within it came a host of intriguing scents, though he had just enough sense to pause at its earthen maw. Were something living inside, he wouldn’t want to disturb it—or, rather, it wouldn’t be polite, without him first announcing his presence. That much he had learned in his short time on land.

“H’llo?” he called, all but yelling into the darkness. If the cave was empty, then he’d be free to explore, but if it wasn’t, he could only hope that whatever lived here wouldn’t mind his intrusion. Some creatures didn’t take kindly to strangers in their territories.

Loch heard nothing, at first. And then came a response, though it was so quiet that he just barely even heard it. So there was someone else inside the cave. But where were they? Why hadn’t they come out to greet him, or try to chase him away?

Well, they’d acknowledged his presence, at the very least. Surely that meant that he could let himself in?

Stepping past the threshold, Loch walked inside, making a concerted effort to stay upright as he did so. It wasn’t long until the creature fell into his line of sight, and he was only slightly surprised to discover that it was a small woman, standing stock still before him. Confusingly, she was wrapped in vines, but entirely bare beneath them, and Loch stopped to tilt his head at her. Were they meant to be clothes? He’d never seen a human cover themselves head-to-toe in plants, before, and he couldn’t imagine that it was comfortable, but it wasn’t much stranger to him than the colorful fabrics other humans wore. And they covered so little of her body—why did she even bother with them?

Not that he could rightly judge her for it. He himself still wore the red robe he’d “borrowed” from Maka, if only to avoid upsetting the people he came across, in his travels. Being nude was something frowned upon—why, he couldn’t even begin to guess, but it was probably better to go along with such a rule than try to fight it, so he didn’t complain. And the robe was pretty loose, so it didn’t cling to his body like he thought most clothes did. That made it delightfully easy to move around in. He almost didn’t mind wearing it, save for the moments when it would slide down his shoulders, or the sleeves would cover his hands.

Upon realizing that the woman was holding something, Loch looked down and all but gasped. It was the furry, long-eared thing that he’d chased through the woods! How had she caught it when he’d lost it in that hole? And with the way that she held it, was she offering it to him? Did she not want it for herself?

He stared at her for a moment. When she made no other movements, he took the creature from her and started to messily, noisily devour it. Then, remembering his manners, he stopped to lick the blood from his open mouth and, crouching so that he was at eye level with the woman, held the mangled corpse out to her. “You want?” he asked. Best to check, before he went ahead and ate the whole thing.

The woman gave him an odd look, as if she wasn’t sure what he was doing, and Loch frowned. He’d thought that, since she had went and caught the creature for him, it would only be proper for him to share it with her. But she didn’t seem to want any of it, making some motion with her hand that he assumed said as much, and he was more than happy to finish the rest of her offering. Not a scrap of fur or flesh was left, when he was done; he loathed wasting food and took a moment to savor the last of his meal, wiping the blood from his chin and licking his fingers clean before he stood up straight.

With his belly full, he was satisfied—enough that he wouldn’t have to worry about hunting again, anytime soon. That let him focus on other things, like the woman before him, who’d yet to utter so much as a single word. Not that he had done much better. Talking had never been something that he was particularly good at.

Easily breaching the space between them, Loch brought his face much closer to the woman’s, eyes flitting around her features. When he noticed the protrusions on the top of her head, he reached for them, wanting to touch one with a clawed finger; he had never seen a human with horns, before. Were there different breeds, or was she another creature entirely—one that only resembled a human? That would make her more like him, though he doubted that she, too, hailed from the watery depths; her strange scent was nothing like that of his kin.

He thought to ask her, but the matter couldn’t hold his attention for very long. Gaze drifting to the earthen walls around them, Loch then drew away from the woman to inspect the many, many plants that had been placed on shelves, in containers, and strung above their heads. The scents were almost overwhelming to the senses—some fresh and fragrant, others old and unpleasant. He didn’t know what any of them were, or why they might have been brought in from outside, but he went about poking and prodding and nibbling at whatever was within his reach.

So absorbed was Loch in his rifling through the woman’s things that he didn’t notice her picking up after the mess he was making. There were so many plants, and they all looked and smelled so different than the ones that he typically saw, beneath the waves of the sea; he ran his fingers over as many as he could reach, noting their texture and how they felt when he popped them into his mouth, and whether they were sweet or sour, bitter or bland.

What use did the woman have for all these plants? There must be other, better things for her to eat, out in these wilds.

It was her mousy voice that stilled his hands, when she suddenly piped up from behind him. Turning to look at her, he saw that she had put some distance between them. She was staring at him, red-faced and wide-eyed, her hands full of the plants he’d tossed from their stores or spat out. At that moment, she reminded him a bit of the creature he’d made a meal of—they were both so easily frightened, it brought a grin to his face.

She was amusing, this woman. But she didn’t seem to want him messing with her plants, anymore, so he would stop, as she’d asked. Most of them didn’t taste very good, anyway.

He took a few steps toward her. “Human?” he asked, getting close enough—or rather, as close as she would allow—to inhale her scent. “Smell different,” he said, feeling her strangeness settle on his tongue, mingled as it was with the earthy aromas that clung to her skin. “Look different.” He had heard that this land was home to strange creatures—ones that walked and talked like men, but preyed upon them like some of the fae-folk. He had yet to meet any of them, but he was eager, and hoped that they might share some of their secrets with him; surely, they would know how best to blend in with mortalkind.

“Humans live with humans,” Loch said, tilting his head ever so slightly. “Why here, alone?”