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It had been a strange couple of months. Maybe it had been far more than a couple? It had been really hard to tell.
It had all started on a chilly, but sunny day, when I was making my way to the snowy beach so I could let myself gently slide, almost flow into the water, as I liked to do. There were those who liked to jump and make a big splash and those who dove in with a quick elegant swoop. But I had always liked to take my time. What was there to rush for, anyway?
There was the land, the tall grass and the trees overhead. The beautiful night sky when I stayed up late. And the water, which provided me with yummy fish.
How was I to know it would all come to an end? The world as I’d known it, at least.
In hindsight, it wasn’t as if I hadn’t felt the eyes watching me. I was old enough after all and experienced enough to know when I was being stared at. The light shade of my fur made me stand out. And my love of fish had, well, it had become noticeable after a while as well.
So I hadn’t thought much of it. Truth be told, I had only realised something was off when I felt the dart as it penetrated my side. I remembered feeling woozy as my eyes tried to focus on the red feathery end of the dart.
And then my vision had gotten completely blurry, my four paws could no longer support my own weight and I had dropped to the ground.
–🦦–
When I woke up, it had taken my eyes a while to get used to the dark. As far as I could tell I was trapped inside a wooden crate and I was travelling. Constantly moving.
I heard the sounds of the cars I was in, the airplanes and all the stops in between.
At irregular times the crate would open up just enough to refill the water bottle and I would receive a bowl with something that had to pass as food. It was awful. I missed my scrumptious fish.
I missed the sea.
I’d lost track of the days or maybe weeks that had passed, but eventually my crate was delivered by a postal worker to a cottage in the middle of nowhere - what I would later find out to be a village called Tadfield, when I overheard my keepers talk.
In the end I couldn’t even tell how long I’d been there. They had kept me in a cage. There’d been a sort of box in the corner for me in case I needed the loo, a soft blanket to sleep on, a water bottle fixed to one of the bars and I would get fish daily.
There were two people in the cottage. A woman, who was always dressed in dark colours, had long dark hair and black round spectacles. She was studying me. With what purpose, I did not know.
She would usually talk about me into a small device and later write out the notes. But she would also sit down in front of me and talk to me, show pictures, hold up items…
I would just ignore her as I very much doubted there’d be anything to gain from engaging with her.
If I pretended I didn’t understand her, maybe she’d give up and set me free.
But how was I going to convince her I was just an ordinary otter, when both of us knew I was anything but?
The bespectacled man was different. He moved around nervously. Especially when he came near the cage, which almost always seemed by accident. As if he’d forgotten it was there. Or forgotten I was in there.
He never made eye contact and every now and then would ask his partner if she was sure about all this.
And she would reassure him everything was fine; they weren’t in any danger. And she would only ever let me out of the cage if she was absolutely certain it was safe.
Which made me wonder how she was ever going to establish that.
Days became weeks, months? And the frustration within the woman grew. Whatever had made her yank me out of my habitat, was starting to take its toll.
She was becoming increasingly paranoid every time someone came to the door. And despite me carrying on with my ordinary otter persona, she became more and more determined I was faking it.
She’d started collecting samples of my hair and testing it. Swabbed my mouth for saliva. Even my droppings got analysed. Ugh.
She’d stay up full nights just to observe me, ignoring her partner’s pleas to let it go and rest.
Eventually she’d taken a wooden stick and started poking me. Not hard. Not to inflict pain. Just to see if she could get a reaction out of me.
That night, when she fell asleep in front of the cage, the man opened it, leaving just room enough for me to crawl back into the same wooden crate I had arrived in.
“I don’t know what you are. But otter or not, this needs to end,” he sighed, “please just…”
The man looked pained. “If you can understand me... I’m taking you somewhere safe. Somewhere better for you,” he turned to look at his partner, as she lay on the floor, folded into herself and sound asleep, “and her.”
–🦦–
And that’s how I arrived in what I later found out was a small flat in Soho, London.
The cage there was roughly the same size. But the company was a huge improvement. Apparently this older woman was the man’s aunt. She was called Tracy and had bright red hair and clothes just as colourful as her personality.
She too was very cautious when it came to me. As if she didn’t quite know how to behave around me.
But she didn’t prod. Not with sticks nor questions.
After a while Tracy would talk to me as if he was her pet. A potentially dangerous one, but fine as long as I stayed safely behind my bars.
She’d cheerfully tell me about her day if she’d been out or about her upcoming plans for the rest of the week. Or gossip about her neighbours.
Sometimes she said she had people coming over for a seance - whatever that was - and she would cover my cage with a blanket and ask me to please stay quiet.
My life with her wasn’t bad, but I longed for the outside. The fresh air and the sea.
To be free again.
–🦦–
I couldn’t have been able to say how long I’d been with Tracy in total. It all ended rather abruptly one evening when a man broke into her flat and took me away. He grabbed me by the scruff of my neck and shoved me into a plastic carrier.
My journey, which lasted hours, ended in what seemed to be a small house.
The plastic carrier was placed on top of a kitchen table and that had been it. I woke as the sun started to rise and I could hear some rumbling upstairs, soon followed by footsteps descending the stairs.
A man in his forties, with red hair sticking out at weird angles, yawned as he passed the kitchen table in a worn t-shirt and jogging trousers.
Then backtracked and frowned as he took in the sight of me; an otter in a carrier.
“Shadwell!” The man shouted in a heavy accent. “Shadwell, ge’ down here!”
About a minute later a second man, who I realised was the man who had taken me from Tracy’s - came running down the stairs, and exclaimed with an equally heavy accent; “Wha’ is it?!”
“Really? You’re asking me?” The first man’s eyebrows went into his hairline. “Why is there a bloody otter in our kitchen?!”
Shadwell crossed his arms defensively. “I go’ word from the Cryptidsfinder Army.”
“So that’s where you went yesterday? On a mission f’r those eejits?”
“Crowley!” Shadwell bristled. They obviously had this conversation before. “They’re nae’ eejits!”
“You brought home an otter!” Crowley pointed at the carrier on the table, clearly hoping against hope that the sheer ridiculousness of this situation would become apparent to the other man.
But it didn’t.
For a moment it looked like a stale mate, both of them staring daggers at each other.
Until the redhead sighed, pulled out a chair and sat down. Or draped himself over it, more or less. He ran his hands through his hair. “So… Humour me… You caught a wild otter because…?”
“A didnae catchit. Exactly. I picked it up. I picked it up.”
“You picked up a wee otter,” Crowley repeated blandly, “and where does one go to pick up an otter?”
“Soho, London.”
“Ugh.” Crowley shook his head and turned around to look at me. “We’ve go’ plenty o’ otters here in Scotland.”
“No’ this one. This one’s special.”
“Yeah, no, absolutely.” The redhead reached out with a finger to the bars of my carrier. “Everyone can see this is a magical otter. You can tell by the…,” he wiggled his fingers, searching for words.
“Don’t mock!” Shadwell interrupted him. “It’s no’ magical. It’s a Kushtaka.”
“Of course it is.” Crowley was now sitting on the edge of his seat, half leaning over the table, his head resting on his folded arms as he was watching me. I wasn’t sure what to make of this.
“Of course you’re a Kushtaka.” He rolled his eyes. “Tha’ explains everythin’.”
Shadwell huffed. “There’s nae talkin’ to you! Just whatever you do, ne’er let it out o’its cage!”
“Cage?”
“The Cryptidsfinder Army is goin’ tae send someone o’er with a proper cage we can keep it in.”
Crowley pulled a face. “You’re keepin’ it here?!”
“Just until the Army has found a permanent place f’r it, aye.”
–🦦–
Later that day the cage arrived and I stretched my legs as I entered it. It was bigger than the ones I’d been in before. But a cage was still a cage.
I had been fed and had a bowl of water and a couple of blankets at my disposal.
But I missed the grass and the trees.
I missed the sea.
Most of the day I had been ignored by both men. The one called Shadwell had gone upstairs as soon as he got home. The redhead had made himself some food and carried his plate to the living room sofa. He sat down and turned on the television.
Every now and again Crowley would peer at me.
When he was done eating, he put the half eaten plate on the coffee table, grabbed the note which Shadwell had left there and walked over to the cage.
He sat down on the floor and looked at the note.
“Shadwell has the worst handwritin’ in history,” he mumbled, “So you’re a ‘A.. s.. a.. ot..r’? What’s this supposed to say? ‘Asa otter’... Sounds more like a name.. Asa. Shall we call you that, then? Asa.”
He squinted at me. “Well, nice to meet you Asa. Don’t know how long you’re stayin’ fa’.”
“Well, welcome to North Berwick, Scotland,” he continued, “‘ve ne’er seen an otter with a fur in tha’ shade before. No’ that ‘ve seen many otters.”
Crowley peered back at the note. “Note says no’ to engage with you, because you’re potentially dangerous, as you’re a Kushtaka, what e’er tha’ is.”
He put the note down and fished his mobile phone from his pocket. He typed something and scratched his neck. “Well, says here you’re a shapeshifter. You can be either friendly… or no’,” he titled his head, “You look pretty harmless. For an otter. Ah, you’re an Alaskan otter. No’ Asa then.”
Crowley was silent for a short while, then eventually he shrugged. “I’m still going tae call you Asa. As long as you stay, you may as well ha’ a name.”
As an otter in the wild, I never had use for a name before. This felt like a subtle shift I wasn’t sure I was completely comfortable with.
–🦦–
Apparently that was the start of a weird sort of routine, in which I was left alone for large parts of the day and during dinner Crowley would sit next to my cage and talk to me.
At first those moments were rather short. Perhaps Crowley felt a little self-conscious talking to an animal, or cryptid, who never talked back. But the moments prolonged and by the end of the week Crowley’d sit with me til he went to bed.
At times Shadwell would barge in, catch Crowley in front of my cage and berate him for giving me attention. The redhead would simply ignore him.
Crowley had told me he liked watching the sky at night.
So did I; I wished I could see the stars through the window in the living room, but the angle made it impossible.
The redhead had wanted to study astrophysics, but wasn’t allowed to go to university as his father wanted him to follow in his footsteps and take over the family business and work as a cobbler.
As soon as he’d saved up enough he packed up and left. The past ten years he’d been working at the Seabird Centre and monitoring the local bird population. Crowley liked birds. They had wings. They still couldn’t reach the stars, but they would get closer than he ever could.
Shadwell, a man in his thirties, had become his housemate back when he couldn’t afford to stay here on his own.
By now he could, but he’d feel bad kicking Shadwell out. Even though he found the man’s allegiance to the Cryptidfinder Army increasingly grating. At first it was just weird, but now it was getting ridiculous, he had said. Abducting animals he thought were shapeshifters. The absolute loon.
I agreed.
A week had passed and the Army still hadn’t sent anyone over to collect me. Crowley proposed that Shadwell set me free. I was a sea otter after all, Crowley had said, and North Berwick was a coastal town. I belonged in the wild and it was very much illegal to keep me trapped like this.
Shadwell had gotten angry with him and told him they would both get into serious trouble if he set me free. The Army was dangerous and not to be messed with.
In the week that followed Crowley started offering me the food from his plate he thought would be harmless for otters. It tasted absolutely scrumptious!
A couple of days later, Shadwell, who actually did have a respectable job during office hours, had left for a two day convention. On the second day of his absence Crowley had come home later than usual and was three sheets to the wind. He was babbling about a retirement party at work and had gone off on tangents, while he dropped down on the floor leaning against my cage.
Half way through a sentence his inebriated brain had gotten the glorious idea that otters should be free and had subsequently opened the cage.
I cautiously stepped out and as I walked further into the room I noticed the door between the living room and kitchen was open. If I went into the kitchen, I could shift, open the backdoor and leave. Once outside I could shift back, follow the salty smell of the sea and escape.
Crowley was looking at me amused, a lopsided grin on his face.
He was nice and I’d think back fondly of him, hoping he too would make an escape when the Army would come round and wouldn’t find me in my cage.
I ran into the kitchen and was about to head for the door, when I heard Crowley curse and get up from the floor.
I was just about to shift into my human form, when Crowley stumbled into the kitchen. “Where‘ya goin’?” he asked, confused, slurring his words.
I didn’t want humans to see me shift, so the front door it would have to be! I ran back towards Crowley and slid past him, back into the living room, towards the door that led to the hallway and subsequently the front door.
Crowley turned around and followed me. Drat! I couldn’t shift like this...
I ran into the living room and jumped on the sofa as Crowley staggered towards the large piece of furniture. I still have no idea how he managed to grab me just as I jumped over the backrest. The man’s reflexes were impressive for someone in his state of drunkenness.
There was only one way to escape from his grip and it wasn’t elegant, unfortunately. But I had to get out of this house, and shifting was the only way, however much I disliked the idea. I could not risk him putting me back in the cage.
Crowley’s eyes grew as he belatedly realised he was still trying to hold on to me; a Kushtaka growing both in size and weight - resulting in us both toppling over the backrest of the couch and landing with a thud on the floor behind it.
A shocked Crowley started screaming as he realised he was now on top of me; a half naked human, who screamed in turn.
Crowley scrambled to get off of me, as I simultaneously grabbed hold of the tartan blanket - which had been hanging off the backrest and which had fallen down with us, and was now lying on the floor next to me - to cover myself up.
“What… You.. How..,” Crowley had moved backwards, and was now sitting with his back against the couch, “you’re…”
“Human? Yes,” I said, wrapping the blanket around me. I still felt very underdressed in this shape, but at least the tartan was stylish. “I’m a Kushtaka. I can shift between my otter and my human form.”
Crowley blinked, mouth agape.
“You’ve been nice to me and I’ve enjoyed your company,” I started to explain, “but I don’t belong here. I’d like to leave.”
Crowley blinked again.
Oh, dear. He wasn’t in shock or anything?
“Crowley?”
The redhead frowned. “Asa?”
I smiled. "Yes." I got up from the floor as elegantly as one could while wearing a blanket.
“Don’t go.”
I sighed as I looked down on the drunken redhead, who was running a hand through his hair. “They’ll.. Th’ Army..”
“I can’t stay,” I said, “And you should not be here when they come to collect me.”
“Bu’.. This’s m’ home.” Crowley’s drunken half lidded eyes pleadingly searched my face.
I clenched my fists. I had to leave. Every fiber in my body was telling me to leave.
And yet I stood there, frozen to the ground.
And then I felt the decision was abruptly being taken from me, as we heard a key being turned in the lock on the front door.
Shadwell!
“He’s goin’ tae hurt you if he sees you,” Crowley said, “You’ve to..” he moved his hands closed together, indicating I needed to be smaller. Back into my otter form.
“I’m pretty sure I can take him,” I said as I straightened my shoulders. We were roughly the same size now and although I wouldn’t consider myself a fighter I reckoned I had a good chance.
Crowley shook his head, unsteadily. “He always carries a knife,” Crowley moved his hands further apart. “Big one.”
“But..”
“I’ll try an’ help you. Promise,” Crowley said, hurried. “Trust me.”
The front door closed and they heard Shadwell kick off his boots in the hallway.
Oh, darn it. I really hoped I wasn’t going to regret this.
–🦦–
While Crowley had distracted Shadwell, I shifted and ran back in the cage.
The next morning Crowley had called in sick and as soon as Shadwell left for work, Crowley opened up the cage and let me out, albeit with visible trepidation.
“Listen, um… about last night..,” he sighed. “I‘m grateful you stayed. The Army Shadwell is part of... ” He scratched the back of his neck. “That bloody eejit,” he grumbled, “Can’t believe he put us in this situation. I’ll think o’something... I cannae let them take you.”
I stepped out of the cage, unsure what to do now. I would like to talk to him, but I could hardly shift into a human right in front of him again. He’d already seen more than enough of me already the night before.
“Here.” Crowley indicated a small stack of folded clothes on the coffee table. “I hope they fit. I’ll go into the kitchen, give you some privacy.”
–🦦–
Crowley’s t-shirt with some sort of logo on it, from a band he said, was a bit snug, but the jogging trousers were comfortable. I sat down in the armchair opposite the sofa, watching Crowley staring at me in silence.
“I appreciate that you let me out again,” I started, “I guess I should say thank you,” I said, giving him a small smile.
“Better not,” Crowley said, biting his lip, “you have tae get back in there, before Shadwell gets back. He’s a fool, but those eejits he’s hangin’ out wi’ are so much worse.”
I nodded. The conversation that tentatively followed slowly grew into a friendly banter, despite the strange situation we were in.
If I escaped, I’d be leaving him in an unenviable situation as neither of us were sure what the Army would do to him. Whatever it was, it wouldn't be pleasant. And I didn’t want him to become a casualty of my actions.
He was genuinely kind, even though he pulled a face when I mentioned it.
When we heard a key enter the lock, we still hadn’t come up with a plan, but I had no choice than to shift back into my otter form and go back into the cage.
–🦦–
The next few days, Crowley would let me out as soon as he left for work. I’d go back into the cage as soon as Shadwell arrived and shift into my human form as soon as he retreated back upstairs; spending the evenings talking to Crowley. He had told me he assumed the Army had another mission for Shadwell and he needed to prepare for it.
Our new routine had come to a definitive end, when we heard a knock at the door at around 8 PM. Shadwell had gone out and I was in the kitchen nibbling on a biscuit, while I was watching Crowley make me a cup of tea.
Crowley frowned, but didn’t seem to think much of it until he opened the door and three men, wearing the same type of coat as Shadwell wore, with the same Cryptidsfinder Army pin sticking from their chest pockets, pushed their way inside the house.
“Oi!” Crowley protested.
“We’ve come for the Kushtaka!” one of them barked as he walked into the kitchen. The other two spread out.
Crowley came to stand next to me.
“The cage is empty!” They heard one of the two men cry out.
The man in the kitchen took out a note from his pocket. He groaned, clearly annoyed. “Shadwell’s chicken scratch…,” he complained, “um, let’s see.”
After scanning and rereading the note, he called out; “Look for an otter! Pale fur and rather chubby!”
I shot him an insulted look.
“Or a male.. with a similar description.” The man locked eyes with me and took me in; male, barefoot, clothes not entirely fitting and pale curls. “He’s here!!”
Crowley suddenly grabbed me by the hand, opened the back door and tugged me along as he ran down the street.
“Where are we going?!” I asked, surprised.
“The sea! I’m setting you free!”
Confused as I was, I beamed. Finally!
The two bedroom house was much closer to the sea than I had anticipated. But the three men that were following were not only chasing us, but slowly catching up to us as well.
After turning a corner I could see the grassy dunes, the sand and the sea lapping the beach.
We were so close.
But so were the Army men...
And what about Crowley? What were they going to do to him, once I had shifted and disappeared into the waves?
We had reached the sand, only a few feet between us and the sea.
I pulled out of Crowley’s grip, catching my breath as I looked at him. His red hair tossed by the wind, his ember coloured eyes worried but determined. He was giving me my freedom at whatever expense.
And then I smiled. I knew what I could do. I could save us both if he would let me.
“Do you trust me?”
“Aye,” Crowley frowned, “Why?”
“Can you swim?”
“Um... aye?” Crowley looked at the angry looking men approaching them. “But it’s way too cold to…!”
“No, it’s not,” I smiled and waved a hand in the air as if I was conjuring up a force from way up high, “follow me!”
When I turned around, and shifted into my otter form I could hear a surprised squeal behind me. Right before my paws splashed into the water I turned my head to see a second otter, one with a black fur, trot behind me.
As the Army men ran into the surf, we were already out of sight.
–🦦–
The next day Crowley got a message saying Shadwell was arrested for an attempted heist on the town’s church. It was unclear what he was going to steal, but he, two other cronies and the one who had given them the assignment had been arrested and taken into custody.
Crowley had said that when he got back out, that would be a good moment to reevaluate their housing arrangement.
He looked up at me as I entered the room holding a tray with a teacup, a coffee mug and a small plate onto which I had emptied an entire packet of biscuits. I placed it on the coffee table and sat down in the armchair opposite Crowley, with a happy wiggle as I helped myself to a biscuit.
“So, now that you’re free… Do you want to go back to Alaska?” Crowley asked pensively. “Or, maybe…”
“Maybe?”
“Well, North Berwick is nice this time of year,” he smiled.
I laughed and helped myself to a second biscuit. I had regained my freedom, the sea was right outside and it looked very much like I had made a friend.
I found I was in no rush to leave.