Brine by Kate; Smith

her eardrums throbbed, but she kept going. She was curious what this new body could accomplish. It felt amazing to push herself like this.
    Finally, she turned back. There above her, blocking her path to the surface, was the creature that had scared the gulls off the kelp and had sent the fish scampering. She nearly choked in her body’s instinct to gasp.
    The ivory belly of a great white shark sliced through the water. A single, simple line for a mouth, hiding rows of jagged teeth. Pointed fins reached out like wings on a fighter jet. The creature was at least three times her size.
    Where could she go? What could she do? She would need a breath soon. Hell, she needed a breath now.
    She forced her eyes wide. The salinity burned. The shark zigzagged deeper toward her. Its vertical tail pushed side to side like the beat of a metronome, curving its entire massive body to the right, then the left. King of the jungle, lion of the sea. No need to rush.
    She couldn’t go any deeper; her eardrums would burst. She had to figure a way out of this. Alone. The realization made her head pound. She was seriously out of her league. She hadn’t spent her entire life in the ocean like the shark. She was still getting used to this new body.
    The shark approached; she thought of all the knives inside that mouth. All the blood that would spill. All the pain. Hopefully it would be over quickly. She hated the thought of struggling, writhing. Please don’t play with your food. Please just eat me and be done with it . God, she needed to surface. She needed a breath. She was going to explode.
    The creature’s size increased as it neared.
    One bite and there would be nothing left of her. She thought of Allen, searching for her, confused. She hoped he didn’t see all the blood. It would be too gruesome.
    Desperate for a breath, she couldn’t stand it any longer. She swished her fluke hard and pressed toward the sunlight above. The animal darted—faster than she could ever imagine a creature could move. The mouth opened; she saw the rows of triangular teeth out of the corner of her eye—a dark amphitheater of serrated shards. She waited for the bite to pierce her skin, the jaws to crush her.
    She heard a shrill chirping. The sound came from nowhere and everywhere. Again, the sound. Distinct. Piercing. The next shrill shriek was followed by a dull thump. And another. Dull thump.
    All at once, she was swooped up; she was racing to the surface, then her head broke through the crust like an eggshell cracked and she was in another world, the wind in her face.
    She gulped, sucking in her first breath. Her sense of smell restored, the pungent stench of the kelp and bird feathers and fish scales again palpable in her mouth. She looked around. How the—?
    She was at the surface. Breathing. Unharmed. Sunlight beat down on her peach-fuzz scalp. Surely the shark would come back for her. She squinted in the brightness and spun in all directions, searching for the trademark fin slicing the water.
    She saw something. Near the kelp bed. She wiped her eyes, dove, and swam as fast as she could. Schools of fish parted like draperies in her path. She rose and saw a female hovering in the kelp. She wanted to hug her. She reached out, but the creature jerked away.
    “You saved me!” she said, breathless.
    The female only stared at her. Her teeth were rugged, the nails on her hands were fiercely long, her hair roughly tangled and ornamented with feathers and shells. She was savage, but not entirely frightening. Surely she had somehow fended off the shark. All the stories Ishmael had ever read about mermaids and all the pictures she had seen in storybooks did this creature no justice. This mermaid in front of her was never going to cover her breasts with starfish or sit on a rock and comb her hair with a shell. This creature was tough. Fierce. The female swam close, right up to Ishmael’s face, and reached out as if to grab her hand.
    Ishmael instinctively pulled