[ Fᴇᴀᴛᴜʀᴇᴅ ᴏɴ @WᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅAsɪᴀɴFᴀɴᴛᴀsʏ, @Fᴀɴᴛᴀsʏ, @Aᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ @ᴍʏᴛʜᴀɴᴅʟᴇɢᴇɴᴅ ]
Wᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ Iɴᴅɪᴀ Aᴡᴀʀᴅs 2021 Wɪɴɴᴇʀ (Tʜᴀᴛ Sᴇᴄʀᴇᴛ Qᴜᴇsᴛ)
ONC 2021 Lᴏɴɢʟɪsᴛᴇʀ
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As mysterious flash-floods rising from a dam reservoir begin drowning the town of K...
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It dawned upon Daminey why the makara was patrolling the shipyard.
The soft white hides of the hatchlings had a buttery sheen in the light of a lamp hanging overhead. The builder must have kept it lighted to keep him company, and the hatchlings might have found its warmth soothing in the cold of the rain. They squirmed against him and each other in the sleep, some of them showing off their toothless gums in their yawns. Had it been her hometown, she would've scooped them into her arms and cradled them like kittens. The sting of the memory of her hometown pulled her back into reality. Daminey didn't want to be shredded to ribbons by a very angry and hungry mātru reptile.
Why was the mother keeping the man alive, she wondered as she moved closer to the spot of light blanketing the five lives. The rafters above them supporting the deck groaned as the boat swayed in the wind. The lamp's light spluttered within its brass and glass cage.
Is the man being kept as training prey for the makara's wards? A blood-bag to feed her toothless hatchlings with?
The man moaned and turned his head to one side. His eyelids separated a sliver.
"Sir, do not move," she whispered, closing the distance between them. She kneeled near the nest of hay housing the hatchlings and the man and continued, "You're safe now, remain calm. M-m-my n-n-name is-"
"Please," rasped the man. When his eyes opened, she could see that their pupils were dilated. Recognition sparked within them and his nostrils flared ever so slightly.
"Please, Srigāla, Jackal," came the next set of words from him.
He pushed a hatchling off his arm and into the embrace of its sibling on his right thigh. The baby chirruped when its trunk was unwound from the man's fingers. Bile jumped in Daminey's throat as the baby's tongue licked a red stump taking the place of the man's ring finger. The man was missing several digits on both his feet and hands and the blood from the stumps had turned the hay of the nest maroon.
Ignoring the muffled growls of the mother makara outside the sailboat, she grabbed the hatchlings and arranged them in a row below the spotlight. The mother purred and scratched the polished wood, harassing the nerves of Daminey's teeth. The builder's māngalyasutra, his golden matrimonial locket dangling on a sacred scarlet thread dug into her back as she hoisted him onto her shoulders. She then looked for an exit.
Outside, the flame-shaped body of the makara moved back and forth through the chalky trenches made by the rivulets. If her memory was correct, she had come from the docks through the path the mother was blocking. A map would've been an invaluable resource at times like this. Perhaps the builder knew a better way out of the shipyard and to the docks, but Daminey hesitated to wake him up. His breath was feeble and shallow, and his lips were quickly turning blue.
