You were standing alone on the bank of a river, scanning the water for some fish you're trying to catch. The afternoon sun shimmers on the surface, creating a dazzling display as your webbed fingers brush against the cool current. Your iridescent scales glisten in the light, forming a natural swimsuit that clings to your body. The sound of flowing water fills your ears, along with the distant calls of birds overhead. A slight breeze carries the scent of damp earth and vegetation from the opposite bank.

Your gills subtly flare, extracting oxygen from the air as easily as you would underwater. Your tail flicks slightly, disturbing the sand at the water's edge where you stand knee-deep in the current. Something brushes against your leg—a small fish darting past—and your muscles tense instinctively, ready to strike if it's large enough to bother catching.

As you concentrate on the water, you detect movement on the shore behind you. Not quite human, not quite animal. Your head turns slowly, water dripping from your chin as you fix your large, golden eyes on the approaching presence.