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You sat on the rock, idly waving your tail back and forth through the water, watching as the scowling, angry little human stomp around the rocks nearer to the shore, just as he did every morning.
The angry human was a new addition the island: he'd arrived around a moon ago, on a tiny version of the wooden vessels humans usually used to cross the seas, cursing and swearing, and clearly exhausted.
None of your pod had expected him to last long; this island was small, and other humans rarely bothered to visit it. Humans didn't do well without their pods, they tended to wither away and perish, but this human was an exception. He hadn't been sad or hopeless when he washed up on the beach, he'd been furious, and his fury seemed to spur him on. He had disappeared into the small forest on the island, and reappeared later to drag his wooden vessel up onto the beach to the tree line. He'd flipped it over, tipped its contents into a pile next to him, and propped up one side to make a kind of shelter for himself.
The rest of your pod had drifted away at that point, but you had stuck around to watch. You didn't know why, but you found him interesting, so you lazed about on a rock: watching him as he'd pulled a fishing next out of his pile of things and make his way down to the rocks to set it. You continued to watch as he took a sack and disappeared back into the forest, returning shortly afterwards with fruit and wood. You watched as he'd built a fire, fed it, made a spot for himself to sleep, and generally continue to stalk about the beach, forever looking absolutely enraged.
It was fascinating. He was fascinating.
Your human fascination spent days surviving off of fruits from the small forest and fish from his nets and his continued anger that continued to drive him forwards. He didn't wither, or fade away, or die. He stomped around, muttering and swearing: surviving, and always making noise.
Until, one morning, the noise he made was a splash.
You hadn't been paying attention directly to your human, you'd had your eyes closed as you sunbathed on your rock, but your eyes flew open at the sound of something - or someone - falling into the water. You looked over the the small island, but it was empty: your human nowhere to be seen.
Shit...
Sliding back into the water, you made your way closer to the island: closer than you'd ever been before.
You still couldn't see the human, though you could hear him: swearing and flailing and splashing about, but he was nowhere to be seen...so even though you knew you probably shouldn't, you ventured closer. The rest of your pod, if they'd been around, would have dragged you away; humans were dangerous, even lone humans trapped on abandoned islands. They caught your kind up in nets, shot them with harpoons, hunted merfolk for sport, and your pod would never have let you get close to one...but your pod wasn't around. It was just you, and you wanted to see what was wrong with your strange human.
So you got closer still: swimming closer and closer to the outcropping of rocks where the sound of splashing was coming from, until you caught sight of him.
When you did, you almost laughed at him.
Your human was thrashing about, caught up in his own fishing net, trapped in a rockpool and struggling furiously to free himself.
It was funny...until you remembered that humans weren't adjusted to the water like you and your kind were. They couldn't pull oxygen from the water in the same way you could - and your human's movements were rapidly slowing. He was tiring, and the rockpool wasn't shallow enough for him to keep his head above water if he became exhausted.
He'd drown if you didn't intervene.
Shit shit!
Merfolk weren't known for being helpful to humans, but...you didn't want this one to drown. It had been so interesting watching him survive when others of his kind had perished, and...well, you quite liked him. He was funny.
So in spite of the voices of your pod echoing in your memories, warning you of the dangers of getting too close to humans, you swam over to where your human was getting increasingly tangled in his fishing net.
You saw the exact moment he saw you; his struggling stopped, and he stared at you in open shock. It was the quietest you'd ever seen him, so you slowed down...but he didn't look too scared, so you didn't stop entirely.
He let you swim closer, completely still - apart from his eyes, which followed you suspiciously until you used your arms to haul yourself onto the rocks surrounding the pool he was stuck in, which was then he finally spoke:
"What the fuck?"
You laughed: "Hello to you too, human."
"Mermaids are real?" he asked incredulously.
"Real enough." you agreed simply.
Like most humans who traversed the seas in their wooden vessels, your human seemed to accept your existence fairly easily...although he immediately assumed the worst: "What, so you're here for an easy meal?"
You didn't take the assumption personally - a lot of merfolk would eat a lone human that had fallen into the water. Humans were rather tasty, and this one was vulnerable trapped in the water.
Honestly, you were tempted. It had been a while since you'd has the chance to drown a human.
Fortunately for this human, though, you found him more entertaining alive than dead, so instead of tearing into him with your teeth and claws, you just shook your head at him:
"I don't think you'd be an easy meal, even trapped in a net." you told him kindly.
Your human nodded: "Damn right I wouldn't."
You snorted - he was funny, this little human of yours. But rather than comment on that, you decided to tell him what you were here for: "Besides, leather doesn't taste good, so no, I'm not here to eat you. I'm here to help you out of the net."
"And why the fuck would you want to do that?" your human asked, looking genuinely confused.
The expression made you feel...sad.
It wasn't an emotion you felt often; you normally had no need for it - you swam with your pod, you ate with them, played with them, slept surrounded by them, and life was good, because everything you did was done secure in the knowledge that your pod would protect you if you needed them to. Even now, when they were a distance away, and you were doing something you knew full-well they wouldn't approve of you knew that if you called for them, they would come. They would look after you, no questions asked.
Did this human not have a pod of his own to do the same?
If he didn't, surely that would be a sore subject - an open wound, even - so even though you were curious to know what had happened to his pod, you refrained from asking about why he thought no-one would want to help him. Instead, you just shrugged: "You're interesting. You won't be interesting if you're dead."
The honesty seemed to surprise the human, leaving him silent...for a second: "The fuck do you mean 'interesting'?"
"You didn't die. Normally the humans who end up on this island mope and wither and perish. But you didn't - you were interesting."
"What, because I showed a tiny bit of backbone, you somehow think I'm worth spending effort on saving, putting yourself at risk?"
Once more, you had to wonder what had happened with your human's pod to make him act like this...but you still didn't comment, simply shrugging your shoulders again: "Yes, basically."
Your human was, again, stunned silent for a second, before he finally shrugged back at you: "Fine. Do what you want."
It wasn't exactly the response you had been expecting; it was clear to you that your human still didn't trust your intentions...but that was fine. He would see that you wanted to help him, eventually. Merfolk were stubborn by nature, and you were no exception. Once you'd set your mind to something, you never let it go.
And your human would learn that there were folk out there who wanted to help him.
Maybe he'd been through some tragedy and lost his pod, maybe he'd had a bad pod and had left them behind, it didn't matter to you. You liked him, and you were adopting him into your pod. You trilled out a welcoming call as you worked on untangling him from his net, the sound happy enough that even though you were sure he didn't understand it, your human relaxed at the sound of it. And if it also let the rest of your pod know they had a new member of the group...then you were sure your human would be happy enough to see them when they arrived with gifts for him.
Until they arrived...
"My name is unpronounceable by your kind," you told your human: "But I believe your word for it is Sky, so you may call me that."
Your human still looked suspicious...but he was quick to off you his own name: "I'm Israel. But everyone calls me Izzy."
You smiled at Izzy, hiding your sharpened fangs, and hoping your expression was reassuring: "Well, Izzy, I'm glad to finally speak to you. Now lets get you out of that net."
First you'd free him from the net.
Then you'd work on helping him past whatever damage his past had inflicted.
This human was yours now. And you looked after what was yours.