Mako's P.O.V.

The first memory I had was of the ocean. Course when you live right next to it, it would’ve been surprising if that wasn’t the first memory. The memory was of me and my dad in the water, with him teaching me how to swim. Of course at the time, my dad didn’t know that swimming had already been engraved inside of me.

The ocean was calling.

The lines on my ribs were thought to be scars, but they gave me breath where others would not have it. I had been used to people asking about them, about where I had gotten them.

I responded semi-truthfully.

“I don’t know, they’ve just always been there,”

The ocean was where I belonged.

And when my bottom half became a part of the ocean as my mother was, I could swim for eternity beneath the ocean's glimmering surface. Fish of every color, predators of all sizes, friends of every stripe, they all waited for me in the depths. Who was I to keep them waiting?

The ocean was my home.