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The wind was freezing, chilling Barnacles’ fur as it sped by. Fog danced around the air, clinging to his fur in the form of tiny droplets of dew that sank into the thick snowy warmth of his face. His suit was covered in grass stains and dirt from his rough landing onto the lush terrain, and his body was sore too. The wind forced his eyes to narrow and water slightly, so he brought a paw up to shield them. In the far distance, large formations that reminded him of seamounts towered above the land like deities demanding worship. A massive ravine dipped into the land not far from him, giving way to a shallow, calm river that seemed to run across the majority of the island. In the sky, something enormous passed by, slowly and with majesty. The air was clean, untouched by the living.
Where was he? What was this fantastical land he’d awoken on, been tossed onto by what must’ve been the very forces of nature? He remembered not how he’d arrived nor when, only that his eyes had opened to the dawning sun and the cold air on his face, and the mild protests of a tired body that had been roughed up in its unconsciousness. His limbs felt awfully light as he stepped forwards, into the mysterious wonders of the island.
Curiously, he approached the ravine, peering over the edge. The dip wasn’t as steep as he’d expected. In fact, it looked like he could climb down with some caution. He walked along the edge, following the sound of the slow water’s motion. Soon, he arrived at what seemed to be the end of the river. It all joined in at a small pond of sorts, seemingly uninhabited. This seemed like a very beautiful place, for being so mysterious. Barnacles climbed down slowly, carefully sliding down the precipice. His boots caught onto the bits of rock jutting out from the towering wall, safely slowing his descent until he was just above the ground. He landed with a soft thump on the rocks, the slightly damp surface glimmering in the sunlight. The air smelled wet and the raging wind was gentler down here, the cold tuned down. He blinked away the tears that had gathered to shield his eyes from the rough wind, looking around the small dip he now found himself in. He stepped up to the edge of the steady stream that trickled down into the pond, careful not to slip on the smooth rocks that outlined it. The water was clear and chilly, giving a clear view of the bottom. There was no fish, not even minnows or any of the tiny critters one would usually see in places like this one. He dipped his paw in, letting the chilly water run over it.
Looking up, Barnacles noticed that there was a bridge running across the top of the ravine. He hummed curiously, taking note of the build. It was flat, with no support beams or stylistic design choices. Just big, flat metal slabs that stretched across the gap in the land. Despite the odd design it seemed sturdy enough, given that it had seemingly survived this long in the winds up here. His gaze remained on the bridge, taking in every ridge and screw. He wasn’t sure what had captivated him so, but in the moment that followed he was glad he didn’t look away.
A giant entity, beautiful in its movements, glided down from above. The floating creature he’d seen before had descended to meet land, only briefly. Like a quick brush with mortality before returning to the heavens. It, too, seemed to be a beast of steel, made entirely of metal. As it approached the bridge, it released a low bellow into the air, announcing its presence with royal authority. Tendrils of iron drifted loosely behind it, catching the wind. It reminded Barnacles of a squid, somehow. A cephalopod that had taken to the skies and thrived, but mechanical. It was fascinating. The beastly creature ascended back for the skies, becoming a faint form in the distance.
Barnacles began to walk along the side of the stream, enjoying the returning quiet of the isolated area. For some reason, he was enjoying the silence. He wasn’t sure why he was here or where ‘here’ was anyways, but he couldn’t find himself feeling afraid. His mind would try to trail off towards his crew, to where he could possibly be or how he would find them again. But it was almost like his brain refused to think about it, refused to allow the fear to enter. He would just remember that they were together, they could keep each other safe. For how long he’d be gone, he didn’t know. For now he’d be content to explore, as he always did, and as he’d dedicated his life to doing. The island was calm, and the cold felt cozy to him. It reminded him of his childhood home in Alaska, or his occasional stays in the midnight zone, where the chill reached your very bones and threatened to freeze you and keep you there forever.
For a moment, the train of thought brought Barnacles to a conclusion. On impulse he looked down at his paws. Stark white fur gave way to the faint sight of grass, right through his limbs. His body was unstable, barely physically present. He knelt down and placed his paw on a rock, pressing down. He phased through it, feeling his paw embrace the solid stone like he was made of honey.
“Am I dead?” he wondered. Is this what would become of him? Alone on a vast island, his body faint and unable to interact with the beauty of his new surroundings. He wondered, how had he died? He couldn’t remember if he had been in danger recently. Perhaps he’d drowned, or been killed by a hungry animal. He’d always told himself he’d like to die in the ocean one day, doing what he loved. Of course, when he’d said that, he’d had in mind a calm death in the Octopod, surrounded by his crew. Perhaps to the poison of some frightened animal, or maybe if he was lucky to some natural cause like disease or old age. But drowning sounded like a decent way to go, for him. The ocean would reclaim him, that way.
Being eaten didn’t sound nearly as peaceful. But it had its own unique charm to it, he supposed. He’d be feeding an animal. He’d be fueling the food chain. He’d still become part of the ocean anyways.
If he thought about it, really, he’d always become part of the ocean again. He always knew he’d die in the sea. It was his home, his life. And it seemed it had been his death, too. He couldn’t bring himself to be upset about the way he’d gone, had it been to the kingdom of the deeps. He did, though, stop for a moment to grieve his crew and family. It had been his worst fear every time he thought about his death; leaving his beloved crew for good, his dearest friends for life. He’d always dreaded the day he wouldn’t wake up and be able to call his sister and see the cubs rush to greet him. He wondered if they’d come to meet him here one day. One distant day, in the far future.
But for now, he was content to walk. He felt light, following the island. His legs led the way, his mind wandering. It was so quiet, he found his thoughts drifting with ease. It was beautiful. Small flowers adorned the mountainsides, drawing a smile to his face. Their demure silence reminded him of Dashi, so sweet she was yet just as fearlessly powerful as the rest of the crew. He found himself pointing out features in the land to himself, and how they reminded him of his friends. The towering spirals of stone, unapologetically making themselves known like his energetic lieutenant. The gentle stream, like Peso, who would only occasionally find enough confidence to speak up past a timid murmur. But the further upstream, the stronger the current of the opening river, just as the medic’s confidence steadily grew over the years he’d worked in the Octopod. The giant, mechanical squid, gracefully patrolling the skies like Tweak’s inventions traversed the seas. The very island itself, blanketed by a fog of mystery that would’ve had Shellington eagerly scribbling on his journal.
At some point during his exploration, Barnacles found himself at the peak of an enormous mountain. He wasn’t sure how he’d ended up there, how long ago he’d started hiking or why. But he knew he was there now. His gaze scanned the terrain that surrounded the mountains.
Overwhelming.
It was overwhelming. Spending your life beneath the ocean sometimes led you to forget the wonders that the land held for you. The island had come to remind him of these wonders. His breath caught in his throat, his heart skipping a beat. He was so, so high up. Somehow he felt dizzy, but also not. Trees dotted the landscape, slowly condensing into a thick forest further north of the island. To the west was a colossal rock formation. It had to be unnatural. It was greater than any rouge wave he’d ever encountered and dwarfed most -if not all- seamounts he’d ever explored. All around it, metal rails and floating platforms followed a precise pattern over and over, moving horizontally and vertically. The rest of the land was littered with smaller formations of rock, forming circles, or pyramids, or simply existing to exist. Some were made of a strange purple-ish stone of sorts. It was smooth, shiny and reflected the light beautifully. From above, he could see a large patch of red flowers gently undulating in agreeable with the wind. Vast clouds hugged the edges of the islands, giving the illusion of an endless expanse of terrain. Or perhaps it wasn’t an illusion, and if he walked long enough he’d find himself completely lost in the fog. Or perhaps he’d find what was beyond the fog, beyond the reach of his gaze.
Turning to look behind him, he was met with an even stranger sight. An enormous depression, almost like a crater at the top of the mountain. It was rich with trees lining the perimeter and lush greenery carpeting the center. A large pond sat near the edge of the crater, and he could see a spot where the water trickled over and fed into the river down below.
In the center of the crater stood a goliath of an entity, solid and metal. Its body was a dark grey almost black, and its face was highlighted a dull white. Its legs were long and spindly, but the upper body seemed to resemble something highly muscular. Several small, flat teeth lined the mouth —or what he presumed to be the mouth— giving the creature a perpetual grimace. It moved slowly, seemingly just… meandering about calmly. It was incredibly intimidating to look at, and the thought crossed his mind that if we went in there, he might be crushed immediately by the beast. Fear seemed to converge with awe.
Several hours had passed since he’d arrived. The sun was high in the sky now, blasting the island with its rays. Though Barnacles found that he didn’t quite mind the sun, surprisingly. It wasn’t as overbearing as it usually was to him. He was currently sitting in the bed of red flowers he’d seen earlier from the mountain. They swayed in tandem with the trees and the grass, rehearsing a dance that the wind directed. He was currently watching, from a distance, what appeared to be another one of the island’s mechanical inhabitants. He’d mistaken it for a structure at first, being so tall. But it appeared to move slowly across the landscape, making a journey he probably would never know the purpose of. A wide round plate sat on the top of the creature, adorned with three small spikes. Its body was a sleek white that reminded him of a strange dress, and what appeared to be three arms were evenly spaced around the body. There were two, he believed. He’d seen another one near the edge of the forest. They were incredible machines, but he couldn’t fathom why they existed. Perhaps they were the natural products of the land, and he was in some kind of strange world where metal was biology. Or possibly, they were the last traces of a civilization that used to inhabit this land. He supposed he’d never know.