Page 6

Kaelen’s growl rumbles across the water. “You’re a poor liar, water-dweller. I smell your interest.”

Before I can respond, a crashing sound comes from the forest. Birds scatter from the treetops as something massive moves through the underbrush.

Oren.

The forest troll rarely leaves his wooded domain.

“Human female,” he rumbles as he emerges from the trees, his massive form dwarfing even Kaelen’s considerable size. Moss and lichen cling to his bark-like skin, small flowers bloomingacross his shoulders. Despite his intimidating appearance, Oren is the most peaceful of us three—until provoked.

“In the cabin,” he continues, eyes gleaming with an emotion I’ve never seen in him before. “Smelled her. Different.”

This is unprecedented.

The three of us have coexisted for decades through careful territory management and minimal interaction. Now we’re all drawn to the shore, to the proximity of one small human female who should mean nothing to creatures like us.

Yet here we are. Proof that her presence alone threatens our carefully constructed truce and existence.

“She’s leaving,” I say, though the words taste false. “I’ll make sure of it.”

“No, she’s not.” Kaelen’s response is immediate, his hackles rising.

“Stay.” Oren’s single word carries the weight of the forest he guards.

We stare at each other, centuries-old tensions suddenly sharpened by new rivalry. We’ve never fought over a female before—never fought over anything except territory and boundaries. But I recognize the look in their eyes, the same possessive hunger that flows through my veins.

“She’s human,” I remind them, and myself. “She’s fragile and temporary.”

“She’s compatible and you know it,” Kaelen insists, and Oren nods in agreement.

I make my decision before I’m even conscious of it. “We’ll watch her. From a distance. No interference.” It’s a practical suggestion, but even as I say it, I’m plotting how to ensure my next encounter with her happens before either can claim her attention.

Neither agrees verbally, but neither challenges me either. An uneasy new pact forms between us—observation only.

For now.

As they retreat—Kaelen to his den further to the north, Oren to his grove to the east—I linger in the shallows, watching the lights come on in her cabin. I catch glimpses of her moving about through the window, unaware of the three predators who’ve just negotiated her fate.

She thinks she came here for solitude. For healing.

Instead, she’s wandered into the hunting grounds of three monsters who suddenly find themselves hungry for something other than prey.

I slide beneath the surface, already planning tomorrow’s “accidental” encounter. The lake may be my territory, but Lily is my new obsession.

3

Lily

Morning at the lake is what Instagram influencers pretend their lives look like—misty water, golden sunlight filtering through pine trees, birds providing a natural soundtrack.

I’m determined to appreciate it properly, like a mature adult on a healing journey, and not spend the entire day wondering if yesterday’s lake monster hallucination will make a repeat appearance.

I’ve got my journal, coffee, and resolution to embrace solitude.

No thinking about my cheating ex, my backstabbing sister, or suspiciously attractive tentacled guys.

Just me, nature, and emotional growth.

I’m practically a self-help book in progress.