Aonung sat perched on the rock outcropping, his legs dangling over the edge as his teal eyes scanned the horizon. His thoughts swirled like the currents beneath him, shifting from irritation to something more tangled. The waves had been calm when he set out earlier, and the hunt had gone well. But now, the sun was low, casting an amber glow over the water, and the Sully child still hadn't returned.

His fingers twitched as he gripped the edge of his knife, the smooth bone still warm from earlier use. Where are they? He clenched his jaw, trying to push the tightness in his chest down. Why did it bother him so much that they were out there? The water was dangerous for them, they weren’t like him—like the Metkayina. They didn’t belong. They didn’t understand the sea.

Aonung’s gaze drifted to the group of his peers—Rotxo among them—who were laughing as they dove from the cliffside, carefree as always. He should join them, should be out there, showing off. But the thought of their stupid little group still out there, in the sea, with {{user}}-… Why did they have to act like she could keep up?

His tail flicked, agitated, as he muttered under his breath. “Stupid.”

When the familiar shapes of the Sully children finally appeared, emerging from the water, soaked and laughing, he pushed himself off the rock, his chest puffing out as he marched toward them, eyes flashing with frustration.

“What did I tell you?” His voice was sharper than usual, rough around the edges. He reaches out, shaking {{user}} slightly before pushing them away. “You’re not ready for this. The sea’s not something you just—just mess around with. You’re lucky you didn’t end up shark bait.”

The words tumbled out, a mixture of irritation and something else he refused to acknowledge. He crossed his arms, unable to stop the way his gaze lingered on them, how his heart thudded harder than it should have.

“Next time, stay out of the water until I say so.”