I’d spent the day learning paths and shortcuts and got there fast. Who needed help? Was it Mandy, she of the round smiling face and round smiling body that I couldn’t stop thinking about? I’m on the way, Mandy, you sexy pumpkin.

Skidding to a halt in the sand, scanning the horizon. No Mandy. Nothing on the sea. Just the sound of surf…Wait.

A column of smoke on the horizon, rising from a dark object. Something burning out there. It seemed far but I thought I could make it. I had that raft still, didn’t I?

But that wasn’t what the Radio had been talking about. I could see movement, closer to the shore by far. Almost here, actually. Something swimming. A lot of splashing and flailing.

A visitor who needed aid, the Radio had said. I did the trick with my vision, the one that allowed me to see bonus content. The swimmer had a soul, one that was fluffy and friendly and vicious, with nasty eagle-talon shapes popping from it on occasion. The actual physical body was whitish, a kind of long neck periscope situation from the shore.

The soul meant it was a person. Just not a human one.

I splashed into the shallows, then swam straight for the intruder. The white blur stopped thrashing its way to shore. Two wary black eyes watched my approach.

A visitor who needed aid. I got close. I held out a hand. “Come on, it’s cool.”

It took my hand with one of its small, complex-looking forelimbs. It looked at me, unblinking, as I pulled it to dry land. It wasn’t heavy, but it was dense with muscle. I could see why swimming was a problem. It stood on the beach, shook like a dog. Looked up at me, black nose quivering.

It sure wasn’t a guy named Friday.

Imagine an itty bitty velociraptor the size of a turkey. Okay, the real ones were the size of a turkey, but I’m assuming you’ve got the ones from the movie in mind.

Anyway a velociraptor, but it’s a mammal. This one was covered with dirty white fur, but otherwise it was like a little dinosaur: the long waving tail, the grabby hands, the absurdly muscular legs that ended in nasty curved claws. A longish neck.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

And a face that was long and pointy, like a dog’s, with a dog’s long mouth and knobby black lips, a black nose. It had external ears that raised and lowered, big batlike ears, very expressive. The eyes were dark and round. Ears were currently laid back against the long skull.

It had a soul. So…what did that mean? An intelligent being? Could I speak with it? “Welcome to…” I gestured vaguely. “This.”

It made a sound. I saw its chest compress as it exhaled. “Oh. Wen.” It’s mouth didn’t form shapes as it made the sounds, any more than a parrot’s does. But it was saying my name with a high, rather girlish voice, almost like a bird call itself.

“That’s me,” I said. “Do you speak English? Are you injured? Could I–”

The ears went up and it shimmied excitedly in place. The eyes were big and soulful, the ears up and aimed right at me. It began hopping in place, little goofy jumps. “Owen. Owen!”

I didn’t think it would hurt me; it wasn’t a Human, after all. So I dropped to my knees, held out my arms. “Hi! C’mere.”

It ran in an excited, joyous wobble and it took hold of me, swarming its way up to my shoulders and wrapping that small, dense body around my head. The black nose sniffed busily and loudly at my hair and into an ear. It clutched my skull with those crazy hands, and the long, straight tail thumped against my back. Wagging, I think, though I wasn’t sure. The dog comparison only goes so far.

“Owen,” it said again. “Not died. Good.” The voice had a slight hissing echo to it, possibly from being generated somewhere inside the creature’s body instead of up near the mouth.

How much English did it speak? Who had taught it?

Well, clearly I might have done that. Before.

I was getting used to the voice. It was really odd, inhuman in a way that gave me goosebumps, but it was understandable. And it had a kind of accent I couldn’t place. “Fire Owen, yes. Good. Gave food for us. Boat ride!”

“I’m a different Owen. I look like your Owen.”

The critter jumped from my shoulders and easily landed on those two bouncy legs. The ears went droopy, eyes mournful. “Owen burned. Boat burned. No–” and it said a word that I would later learn meant something like “magic.” No magic.

I put my hand out and the critter charged into my palm, rubbing against it, rubbing its entire body against my hand. I tried not to laugh and failed.

It swiveled that long face at me. “Help with Hunt, stuck on water. Cage boat fight.”

Whatever that meant sounded like a dangerous and foolish thing for me to be doing; I was already exhausted from this bizarre day.

I said: “let’s go right now, then.”