For a long time, she had lived in the reefs by the humans. She watched as they sailed out from their docks and into the deeper oceans, casting their nets and singing their songs, hauling in load after load of hapless fish from the water before returning to the docks as the sun westered. Mother had always taught her and her sisters not to go too near when the ships were all together; they were dangerous like that. But, if a ship ever went off by itself, either in the early morning or late evening, or even just trawling in a secluded section, they would sometimes go close. The first few times, they just watched; humans were interesting: all dirty and sweaty and smelly, but often joyous and even raucous as they spoke in their garbled tongues and danced silly jigs on their ships. She couldn’t help but laugh at their absurdity—they were so incapable of handling the sea, but they came out on it every day regardless.

When she was old enough, Mother brought her along to hunt. Fish were for younglings; a growing Mer needed red meat, and the humans were the tastiest by far. She was taught to lounge in the water just out of reach of their poles and nets and wave her shining tail at the humans, singing and distracting them while her older sisters boarded the ship from the other side and dragged the humans into the waves before tearing into them with claw and tooth. They said she was a natural, and so she was. The humans tasted like laughter and salt.

She first started watching the humans as practice for her part in the hunt, but she couldn’t lie to herself for long. The truth was that she enjoyed them, in all their respects: their strange speech, their smells, their grinning faces and laughing mouths, the taste of their flesh. Even now, when she had been doing it for years, she never grew tired of watching them. There was one she found most curious, a tall human with dark hair and a thick bundle of scarred flesh running down his arm. He had been around for a long time—as long as she had been watching the humans—and she liked to watch him as he worked the nets and lines. He had a silly habit of standing near the railing, hands on his hips, and watching the setting sun on the horizon satisfactorily. Often, she would stay out of sight below the sparkling waves and stare at him as the ship sailed back to their docks. She hoped that, one day, his ship would stay out just a little too late in the evening, after the others had all gone in for the day. She thought he would taste the best of all.