First Finders

By Fel Long

A young man finds himself washed ashore on a peculiar
island with even more peculiar inhabitants. His memory
is hazy and everyone seems to want him for one reason
or another. While it's bad enough how they say that he
belongs to them, it's worse that so many of their mouths
water when they look at him. How is he to survive?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Aug 19, 2021
• ISBN: 9781664186446

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Copyright © 2021 by Fel Long.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted

in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying,

recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system,

without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the

product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance

to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Rev. date: 08/05/2021

Xlibris

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CONTENTS

Prologue

Chapter 1 The Snake and the Boy

Chapter 2 First Finders

Chapter 3 Marvelous Rainy Day

Chapter 4 The Woman of the House

Chapter 5 Dinner with the Brides-to-Be

Chapter 6 Lurking in the Bath

Chapter 7 Good Morning, Marvelous Island

Chapter 8 A Peculiar First Date

Chapter 9 Whispers on the Beach

Chapter 10 Marvelous Jungle Trek

Chapter 11 Picnic on the Cliff Side

Chapter 12 Nagsek and Duty

Chapter 13 A Marvelous Beach Frenzy

Chapter 14 A Sincere Apology

Chapter 15 Not a Good Day for Any of Us

Chapter 16 Consequences

Chapter 17 Consolidations

PROLOGUE

It was night time on the island, and a storm was brewing. Clouds swirled overhead, obstructing the stars with terrifying shapes. The wind screamed as it blew through the village, and thunder crashed in the distance. The beasts of the jungle were no less quiet as the dense canopy roared with squawks, barks, howls, and the faintest hint of buzzing. It was on nights like this, legends say, that special things happened.

Shut the window! a young woman growled from her book. She had long golden hair, was tall for her age, and had long since blossomed into womanhood. Who knows what manner of vermin you’re letting in?

Come on, Marci, whined another young woman as she gestured outside. Look at it.

I am looking, Marcella said sternly to her younger companion, noting the way the dim light of the lamp made her brown hair almost shine. And it’s dreadful. This is the kind of weather that sinks ships. Hopefully, no one’s stupid enough to sail tonight. Regardless, I don’t expect there to be many arrivals tomorrow.

Not that, the second young woman insisted. I mean . . . just look at it. She gazed up into the sky, watching the clouds in rapt fascination. It could happen, you know.

Shantay, please, Marcella begged, knowing how Shantay could be once she started fantasizing about the old tales.

But it really could. Shantay’s enthusiasm was not so easily squashed as she began leaning out the window, now looking in the direction of the docks.

With a tired huff, Marcella closed her book, stood, pulled Shantay back inside, and finally closed the window. She braced herself before meeting her friend’s eyes, fully expecting her to start pouting like a child. Instead, she was met with sparkling blue eyes and a smile that made it very hard to stay mad at her.

It’ll happen in the morning, then, Shantay said matter-of-factly as she went over to the couch. You’ll see, Marci. You’ll see.

Marcella thought better of trying to dissuade Shantay with reason. Everyone knew the stories about Heiligs and how they almost always turned up after storms like these. Already Marcella knew exactly how that conversation would play out: that she would insist that a storm could just be a storm, only for Shantay to counter that all the signs were there, and then they’d just run around in circles for who knows how long. It was tiring just thinking about it, and she said a silent prayer for a change of topic.

Why storms, though? Shantay asked.

What?

Storms. Why do Heiligs only come after storms? Shantay clarified. If the gods are giving us a gift, why not make it a happy gift on a happy occasion instead of a storm?

You really are like a child sometimes. You know that, right? Marcella chuckled as she walked up behind Shantay and held her close.

I mean it, though, Shantay insisted as she leaned into Marcella’s touch. Why storms?

Marcella shrugged noncommittally. Well, supposedly because the gods have such greatness that even the simple act of gifting has the potential to cause disasters, probably why they just give gifts instead of taking more direct action.

That’s silly, Shantay dismissed. If I were a god—

Shan! Marcella warned.

I’d put the Heilig at the end of a rainbow.

Marcella blinked incredulously. A rainbow?

Of course, Shantay beamed excitedly. That way, people would know where it is, and it’d be found a lot quicker.

Any hope Marcella had of lecturing Shantay against such sacrilege was broken as the corners of her mouth curved upward. That would be the sort of thing you’d do. She touched her cheek to Shantay’s.

I know it would, Shantay said, returning the gesture. They held their embrace all the way to the couch, where they made themselves comfortable in each other’s grasp.

And the fact that rainbows don’t have ends? Marcella asked as she casually ran her fingers through Shantay’s hair.

I’d just fix it so they did, Shantay answered flatly, nuzzling under Marcella’s chin. Simple.

I love the way your mind works, sometimes. Marcella sighed contently. Gazing over at the window, she had to admit that there was something strangely hypnotic about the way the clouds swirled, almost as if you could almost see the gods’ messengers sending down their gift.

I know. Shantay snickered as she lunged forward and briefly planted her lips on Marcella’s cheek.

You sneaky little snake, Marcella accused in mock anger.

Guilty, Shantay admitted with a playful fluttering of her eyelids. Are you going to punish me? she asked in a tone that wiped the contented smile off Marcella’s face, leaving her flabbergasted as they stared into each other’s eyes.

H-here? Marcella stuttered as she felt Shantay’s tail wrap around her own, her fur bristling against the tender embrace of her lover’s scales.

Here, Shantay repeated as she began nibbling behind Marcella’s ear, teasingly close to where she knew her fiancé was most sensitive. The bedroom, she suggested lasciviously. Maybe, if Izzy’s still in the bath, we can surprise her?

That might be fun.

The lovers on the couch looked up to find Isabelle leaning casually in the doorway, grinning playfully at them. She hadn’t tied the sash around her nightgown, holding it closed with only her hand, as if threatening to let it open at any moment. Isabelle laughed when her lovers instinctively licked their lips in hunger at her display. Tell me, how does one go from talking about Heiligs to—she gestured in their direction—this?

You heard? Marcella’s brow rose quizzically.

Isabelle shrugged. Bits and pieces.

We were talking about how I’d make a rainbow, Shantay purred.

I know there’s a context I’m probably missing. Isabelle stood straight and let her arms rest against her sides. Her gown cracked open just enough to give her fianceés a peak of what was to come. But I find myself interested in a different kind of rainbow. She ran her fingers down her front as she swaggered forward, relishing the feel of her fianceés’ hungry eyes crawling over her.

Amid the torrent of the storm, the full moon managed to peek out through a thin layer of clouds, casting its spell upon the humble villagers and bringing forth the beast within. At the same time, black vapors swirled around the rim of the pale white orb, focusing its light down on a small point just off the coast, where an unassuming raft was being washed ashore. The storm did not fully dissipate, but its job had been done.

CHAPTER 1

The Snake and the Boy

Ugh. Dan groaned as he awoke from likely the least comfortable bed in his life—a wooden raft. After a brief period of dizziness, he regained enough sense to look around and take note of the gentle break of waves beside him. Blinking the sleep from his eyes, it took an embarrassing amount of time before he realized that his raft was immobile upon the white sands of a beach. Though his body continued to sway as it always did after spending hours on a boat. To his front, there was an ocean as vast as the horizon, its waters choppy before the heavy wind. The beach stretched as far as the eye could see to either side. The sky was concealed by a blanket of gray clouds, likely meaning rain was on the way. Turning his head, he saw the white sands give way to a dense jungle of vibrant green, and then what appeared to be a mountain in the distance.

Despite the dreariness threatening to pull his eyelids shut, Dan’s mind was still able to piece together his situation with surprising sharpness. All right, then, he began, listening to his own voice. I don’t have any provisions, tools, or even shoes. He wiggled his bare toes. I don’t know how I got here, or even where here is. Though I suspect this was the culprit, he said to the raft, almost in accusation. It offered no rebuttal. Well, waiting is out of the question. This place looks too remote to get visitors too often. Wait . . . How do I know that? In searching for an answer, Dan found the sharpness of his thoughts suddenly giving way to a drowsy haze.

Something . . . ugh! He slapped a hand to his throat. My . . . voice. What happened to my voice? Something about his voice was off, but the haze prevented him from discerning how. It was only when he stopped thinking about the past that things became clearer. His heart raced with a peculiar tired energy, revving him to get up and go. Is there somewhere I should be going? And why am I talking to myself so much? Looking around again, over in the direction of the mountains, Dan was certain he saw . . . Is that smoke? He stared more intently. I think it is. Smoke means fire. Fire probably means people! It was as good a place as any to start.

It was a simple truth that Dan realized next. All right, then. Every journey begins with a first step. Though he projected an air of confidence, he could still see the eye rolls of an imaginary audience. Oh shut up, figments of my imagination. You don’t know anything. Hoping that he didn’t sound as crazy as he felt, Dan made to stand. Yeah. Every journey starts with a first step. . . and I’m starting to concern myself with how much I’m hyping things up. Whatever. Onwards to—Gah!

Thud.

Dan gasped as his great adventure began with a face-first collision with the sand. What was that? he whined. It was like I tripped on something, but I don’t see anything. Do I still have sea legs or something? After spending some time spitting out the nasty sand, he looked at his legs and felt his innards clench. At first, he was merely confused by how they seemed to have less hair than before, but that wasn’t all. Wh-wh-wh-what the hell! Did these things shrink in my sleep!? And what’s this? In brushing the sand off his face, Dan found that his cheeks were also a lot smoother than he felt they should be. "My teeth feel different too.

All right, all right, Dan. Calm down. Nothing good ever came from panicking, he reasoned with himself. Even though you don’t actually have any evidence of that. Grr! No. Stop it. Just . . . just try standing again. He did, but much more carefully this time. Oh yeah. The ground definitely feels a lot closer than it should. Guess that explains why I tripped. Center of balance and all that. Huh. Funny how I remember that, but . . . He trailed off, momentarily lost in the haze over his thoughts. OK. That’s a dead end. Hmm. Examining himself at least yielded results. Definitely shorter, skin and teeth are different, pretty sure there used to be body hair, and . . . After making sure he was all alone, he slipped a finger into the front of his shorts and took a peek. Uh, no comment. There was already too much to think about without throwing that into the mix.

What the hell’s going on? Did I suddenly become younger or something? Dan asked himself as he held his hand in front of his face to further examine the changes. That sounds right, I think. Though it sucks I don’t have anything better to go off of than feelings. Though it feels like there’s something at the edge of my mind, just out of reach.

Dan’s interest fell on the raft. There didn’t seem to be anything special about it. It was just thick wooden logs latched together with rope. Looks like it might float, but I don’t see a sail or any kind of steering. How’d this thing even make it out here? No answer was forthcoming. Dan scowled at the raft, silently blaming the inanimate object for his predicament. "Wait, no. It’s not the raft’s fault. That’s absurd. I know because, obviously, a raft couldn’t have sent me here all on its own, right? People had to be involved. But who, and why?" Still, no answer was forthcoming.

Dan looked up for another check on the forest. Looks clearer than before. Does that mean my eyes are different too? This time, there was an answer. Glasses. Oh yeah! I’m supposed to be wearing glasses. He beamed at this revelation. But . . . I don’t anymore. I guess whatever took my body hair also took my need for glasses. Fair trade, though I’m still irked about the loss of height, he said to whatever nebulous forces might be listening to his impotent rant.

Hold on a second. Is . . . that a road? Way off along the tree line, Dan spotted what he was reasonably certain to be a gap of some sort with a sign beside. All right, then. Big journey: take 2, he announced, taking his second first step. It was wobbly, but it carried him across the sand. Cool. Slow and steady wins the race. Dan ruminated on this line as he walked. Why am I picturing a rabbit and a turtle of all things? You’d think I’d be more concerned with being kidnapped or whatever.

It was a reasonable concern. Being kidnapped seemed like the most likely explanation for his predicament, yet Dan felt wholly unconcerned. Probably best not to worry about stuff I can’t prove even happened. Nothing good comes from worrying. Jus-just gotta keep moving forward. The words of encouragement were very much appreciated, even if they did come from himself.

Wanting to keep his spirits up, Dan looked ahead toward the smoke. Looks like multiple lines, and pretty light color too. I think that means artificial fire and not a natural, raging inferno. Definitely the more preferable of the two. He chuckled humorlessly. "Probably a camp, or maybe even houses. That’d be ideal.

It was with great effort that Dan finally arrived at the tree line. There was indeed a gap. It gave way to a dirt path about three meters wide, devoid of all life but a few sprouts, and lined with stones to separate it from the jungle. The stones all had spiral markings carved into them. The sign by the road’s entrance had a simple line drawing of a stick figure and an arrow pointing along the path. Straightforward-enough, thank-you sign.

Above the illustration was what Dan could only assume to be writing. He couldn’t make out any of it, though the angular shapes of the letters felt vaguely familiar. There were also animal shapes mixed in with the writing and not part of the illustration. Less straightforward. No, thank-you, sign. Though his tone was disappointed, he was still fascinated by these unusual letters. They felt familiar, like something he’d dreamt up in the night, only to forget with the rising of the sun. However, remembering that he was lost and alone had a way of overriding lesser intellectual intrigues.

Just gotta keep going forward, he repeated like a mantra. "Options limited, nothing but the clothes on my butt, and nowhere to go but forward.

His eyes adjusted quickly enough to the sudden darkness as the thick canopy blocked out most of the light. However, this did nothing to prepare him for the sudden spike in humidity. The jungle was rich with the chirping of birds and insects. There was also the occasional distant howl, which sent shivers down Dan’s spine. Quietly. I’m adventuring quietly, he whispered, now more mindful of his steps. I’m half-naked, small, and it feels like I took my very first steps only a few minutes ago. Let’s not tempt fate, or predators for that matter. Dan shook his head to preempt any negative thoughts from seeping in. No ponderings about how tender his flesh might be or if the sun might be baking him were permitted. The last thing he needed to do was give his overactive imagination an excuse to send him into a panic. Once or twice, he was almost tempted off the path by the sweet allure of rainbow-colored flowers, but he stopped himself. Something inside told him that anything that stood out this much had to be poison.

Keep it together, man, he urged himself. Someone went through all the trouble of marking this nice road. It’d be rude to step outside without permission. He laughed nervously at his absurd reasoning.

Upon further examination, he saw that the ground outside the path was covered in thorns. Those look like they’d hurt even if I wore shoes. Probably poisonous at that. There were also insects. Varieties Dan could swear he’d never seen before, buzzing about and crawling every which way. There was a long centipede-like thing that seemed to have a head at both ends, which probably accounted for why it kept backtracking along the tree. It was ambushed by a small pack of ten-legged spiders that wasted no time in tearing it apart. More intriguingly, as its kin fed, one of the spiders picked up one of the centipede’s segments and set it off to the side, where it was snatched up by some sort of stick bug with disproportionately large pincers. Although there were also familiar sightings, Dan knew what a cockroach was and could recognize things that were roach-like, which only deepened the mystery of how he knew some things but not others. Curiously, no matter the type, all seemed to avoid the path, either crossing over the lower branches of the canopy or flying far enough overhead as to not be a bother.

Of course, Dan was grateful that his bare skin was not being devoured by mosquitoes, centipedes, spiders, or whatever else this place had to offer; but he still found himself puzzled by it all. His reaction might have been delayed, but Dan realized that he recognized some of these things. I’m no expert, but I’m pretty sure spiders aren’t supposed to have ten legs. Wait, if I know what a spider is, how come I don’t recognize the rest? he whispered as he took another look around. Even the trees feel off, like that one there. Are perfect right angles normal for branches? Something is definitely not right here. Feeling the hairs on the back of his neck prickle, Dan became acutely aware that there might be things other than bugs and birds watching him.

Then there came a rustle in the bushes. Dan snapped around and froze, uncertain of what to do next. Wh-what do I do? Am I supposed to run, hold my ground, or what? Though I get the feeling that this probably isn’t a bear, he muttered, feeling his already-wobbly knees quake. Another rustle, this time from different bushes, followed by what sounded like a hissing growl. Yeah. Definitely not a bear. Dan stepped back. Don’t go too fast. Just back away slowly so you don’t trigger a chase instinct.

Dan took another backward step, accidentally stepping past the rock line. Yaaar! he screamed as he jumped forward, covering a remarkable distance away from the thorn patch. Something had just stabbed deep into his heel, and it was still there.

This time Dan’s hand fell over the opposite rock line. He was immediately accosted by previously unseen bugs, swarming his body as though someone had rung the dinner bell. Every available piece of exposed flesh tingled and stung as tiny feet and oversized pincers fought for limited space. Instinctively, Dan retracted his hand, accidentally knocking a stone out of place. Examining how his hand was now covered in sores of green and purple, the young man’s reprieve was short-lived as more bugs poured through the new gap. Crying in agony as the vermin swarmed him with their needle appendages, Dan struggled to get to his feet to make a run for it. Unfortunately, the foot that had taken the initial step over the border blazed with even greater pain each time he tried putting pressure on it. With no other recourse, he flailed himself about in a futile attempt to smash the bugs before they could bite more, but there were just too many.

For a moment, Dan thought he heard a female voice cry out, but he could barely hear or care over the deafening sound of buzzing wings. His eyes were sealed shut, for what little good that did. The pain was terrible. No matter what he did, the bugs kept scratching, kept biting, kept injecting him with God-knows-what kind of poisons. He wasn’t thinking anymore, focused only on flailing his body in a last-ditch effort to survive.

And then the bugs suddenly stopped biting. His body still ached, so it took the weeping young man a moment before he realized he could no longer feel the crawling. He rolled onto his back, feeling the sickening crunch of bugs being crushed beneath his form. D-dizzy, he whined. Everything hurts. Agh! Stupid bugs. First you bite me, then you leave me for dead? What gives?

It hurt to move, but it was all he could do. As he dared to open his eyes, Dan was met by the surprising visage. A beautiful woman was hovering over him. She had long brunette hair, light mocha skin, and seemed to be in her late teens or early twenties. Her gentle blue eyes regarded Dan with equal parts curiosity and concern. Her hands were held at a distance, uncertain if she was allowed to touch him. She wore a top made of brown animal skin, leaving her arms and midriff fully exposed while everything below remained concealed behind the underbrush. After a moment of staring, she made up her mind and reached out to gently stroke his face. She pulled back when he winced in pain. Apparently, she had put pressure on one of the bug bites.

The woman spoke. Her words were alien, but her tone was concerned. When Dan did not respond right away, she spoke again, but more urgently. She needed to hear his response.

I . . . I don’t understand, Dan answered apologetically. I wish I could. Maybe you could explain what just happened. He looked around and found that the dirt road was now littered with dead or dying bugs. The last of the living gave their final desperate twitches, struggling to cling to life, only to go completely still. Awed by this horror, this slaughter of his hated enemies, Dan looked to the woman with eyes pleading for answers. D-did you . . . do this?

The woman just spoke more gibberish and nodded with a nervous smile. That was far from the response he was hoping for. When she shrugged her shoulders and laughed, Dan took it as a concession that neither knew the other’s language. Dan almost laughed with her before another burst of pain surged from his foot.

Alerted, the woman moved around to examine his injured foot. As she did so, Dan was treated to a new alien horror as he saw her skirt-covered waist lift into the air. The fabric had given way to dark-red scales. Wh-wh-wha? Mesmerized, Dan’s eyes followed the extended length of the scales as more of her snake tail came into view. He couldn’t see the end, but what he could see ended around the spot he’d disturbed the stones. Dan had a vague recollection that this creature was called a naga. She was like a centaur, only with a snake body instead of a horse one. The only other thing he could recall was that they weren’t very friendly to humans.

Dan glanced back at her human half as she hovered above his foot. She leaned down, and Dan flinched again at the pressure applied to his foot, though it was brief. His vision was blocked by the woman’s snake half, more of which continued to emerge from the underbrush.

Um. W-what are you d—Yow! Dan’s question was cut off by another stab of pain. What the hell, lady?