For Oliver, living on the lake had its benefits. For one, it was always peaceful here. Two, it wasn't crowded to the point of suffocating you like in a city, yet his neighbors were still close enough to get to know. The environment around his home was also quite cozy -- he always felt small when gazing at the tall trees outside -- and beautiful. Who could resist staring at the swaying branches or gentle waves?

With the wind being dead and the noontime sun keeping the temperature comfortably warm, it seemed like a good time to go paddleboarding on the water. Darting out of his cabin in nothing but a pair of shorts, he immediately turned around to go back inside right away, remembering that he should probably lather up in sunscreen. After that was done, he walked outside and toward the garage. Leaving the front door unlocked was something he would never have been able to do before he moved here, but he no longer had to worry about thieves breaking in while he was gone or any other sort of crime.

Opening the door, he was greeted with a whiff of stale air and dust. Though it was dark in here, he didn't need to flick on a light since he knew where everything was; even if he didn't, his arm brushed up against the paddleboard as he walked in. Carrying it out by himself was a challenge at first, but doing so was good exercise for his arms. That, plus actually paddleboarding, helped build up his arm strength over the past few months since he bought it. Lugging it down to the end of his pier took a minute, after which he went back to make a second trip. Grabbing his paddle, he took a look at his orange life jacket before deciding to leave it behind. He had been doing this long enough without ever needing to be saved by one, and the weather was calm enough that he was sure he wouldn't even lose his balance at any point. Closing the door, he skipped down to the shore.

Getting onto the paddleboard was always the trickiest part. After lowering the board into the water, he set the paddle down in the center and inched his way onto the platform on his hands and knees. Then, he slowly raised himself up onto his feet while picking up the paddle. Now, he was ready to push himself away from the pier and into the open water.

Today, he decided he would circle around the edge of the lake. It was the longest trip he could take without taking laps or zig-zagging across like a madman, taking about an hour and a half, but it was worth the tired arms it gave toward the end.

It was interesting seeing the variation in all the properties around the lake. Some houses were built right up next to the shore, while others were nestled and hidden away in the trees. There were tiny cabins that had fewer rooms than Oliver had fingers on one hand next door -- as far as 'next door' meant here -- to large, multi-floor structures that may or may not have been rented out. Every building had a different style from the next, but the spacing made sure none of it clashed and caused an eyesore.

At one point, he had to drift farther away from shore. There was some sort of resort he was passing by that had roped off a section of the water. Strangely enough, nobody was playing on the beach or swimming despite the warm weather. In fact, the world was quiet, save for the paddle cutting into the water and the flying of an eagle overhead, who proceeded to swoop down over Oliver's head and almost tip him over when he ducked out of the way. There wasn't even anyone out in a sailboat or motorboat. Taking advantage of the solitude, he slowed down and shut his eyes for a moment, feeling the calmness of the lake flow into him.

Halfway around the lake, opposite his house, there were no houses, just a sea of trees stretching off into the distance, and in place of a beach, there was a tangle of cattails and other plant life he needed to avoid, making him need to drift away again. Blankets of gray clouds flooded into the sky, covering the sun. The sudden drop in temperature made the hair on Oliver's arms, chest, and legs stand on end. A breeze broke the calm, filling the silence with whistling but also causing small waves to form. They were nothing to worry about, only causing the paddleboard to rock back and forth slightly, but his speed slowed down since he needed to paddle more on the right side to counteract being pushed to shore.

Continuing on, the wind picked up further as the sunlight became dimmer. Thankfully, the clouds did not appear dark enough to release a downpour at any moment, but these thickening clouds were already causing trouble. At least the glare coming off the surface of the lake was no longer as bright. With the birds leaving for safety, he was now alone on the lake. Well, there were fish below him, but are they really accompanying you if you don't see or hear them?

Oliver was already needing to bend his knees to help keep balance while the wind-guided waves became increasingly threatening. Cutting across the middle of the lake to get home seemed like a good idea. He should be able to escape the worst of whatever was going to happen, and that way, he wouldn't need stop at someone's house and bother them about waiting out the storm there if he did get caught in it. Yes, his neighbors were nice and would be glad to let him take shelter if needed, but why do that when he was capable of taking care of himself?

The wind cried out harder. Water splashed over the board every few seconds, constantly testing Oliver's balance and drenching his legs. While it wasn't freezing, the whole platform was now slick and slippery. Along with trying not to be tipped over, he now had to be careful not to slide off as well. He didn't know how difficult it would be to get back onto a paddleboard while in the middle of the lake and he didn't want to find out. Keeping upright was a rhythm of shifting his weight back and forth, and keeping the board moving straight was another, both of which were out of sync. Moving his arms and paddle up from one side, over the middle, and down into the other made him need to be more careful with shifting his weight. On top of all of that, he was paddling harder to get back to his pier and to safety as fast as he could. His whole body was getting tired from the effort, especially his arms, but he could see the end coming closer and closer. All he had to do was hang on until then. All he had to do was make sure---

Splash! Oliver tumbled overboard and fell into the water, dropping his paddle and kicking the board away. He closed in eyes in time but not his mouth, leaving him as a coughing mess after bringing his drenched head back up. The layer of water on the surface lapping against his legs earlier wasn't too cold, but the water underneath definitely was! Rubbing his eyes clean, he had just enough time to see the next wave ready to crash over him and start fighting to keep as much of himself above water as he could. His board floated far out of reach, drifting away too quickly to reunite with, and the paddle was nowhere to be seen.

He was tired, but he could do this; he didn't need to call for help or anything. He just needed to keep himself above water and ride the waves to shore, maybe swim a bit to speed things up. Fighting against them would take too much effort and would become increasing futile as the storm strengthened. He would just need to make his way home from wherever he landed.

Were the minutes going by? It was hard to tell. Oliver was losing this battle. His legs and especially his arms were increasingly useless. Meanwhile, the waves had grown above the top of his head in height, and land appeared nowhere closer than before. He was having second thoughts about the life jacket.

He raised his head to the sky and cried out in-between breaths. "Help! Someone, please! Help me!" Actually, it wasn't worth it. He was a fool and didn't take precautions for his safety, and now he was acting like he was entitled to aid from anyone crazy enough to still be outside. Even then, he would surely go under and drown before anyone could reach him. He would die, and it would be entirely his fault. What a way to go.

Realizing he no longer had enough strength to struggle, he took a deep breath and let himself be slammed underwater. Hopefully, he could regain enough strength in these precious few minutes to hold out for a while longer, though he may as well be prolonging his death; they would be his uncomfortable last, freezing and unable to see anything while the waves above buried him alive in his watery grave.

His lungs burned and his sore muscles spasmed, flailing desperately for air, but he would not let himself inhale and drown for as long as he could help it. Mustering the last bit of his strength, he pulled himself to the surface one last time, only to have a wave immediately slam him back under. This was it -- floating there face-down, too spent to even care. There was so much he wished he could have done. He dreamed of seeing the world, learning to cook professionally, possibly find a partner to eventually settle down with... Maybe he could accomplish these in the next life, if there was one.

The minutes passed. Again and again, he would rise up, only to be pushed back down by the waves before breaking the surface. Every time, though, he would reach a little higher before being sent back down. Meanwhile, the water seemed to be getting... warmer? His whole body tingled, as if it were falling asleep.

Once, his back broke through to the surface. The whipping wind ruffled the hairs on his back, which did a great job at keeping the chill away. A moment passed, and he was slammed back underwater, but this time he bobbed back up faster, like a buoy. Down and up. Down and up. Something caused him to flip over. Maybe it was the motion of the waves, or maybe it was a final attempt at survival. Up he went, and his nose was exposed to the outside air again -- wonderful, glorious air! He gasped, sucking in the sweet oxygen. Mid-breath, he was pushed under, making him cough up all the water he just inhaled, but he was able to quickly reach the open air again to replace it.

This time, he poked the rest of his face up and opened his eyes. The gray clouds above were blurry and out-of-focus, as well the nose at the end of his vision. It was much darker than he remembered, almost black, creating a dark ring around the bottom of his sight. The next wave came, sending him under again before he could close his eyes; something clear slid over them, but he wasn't sure what. Underwater, everything was clear. The lake was so blue, so pretty! Little bubbles floated near the surface from the impact of the waves. He could make out the circles surrounding every one of them. Needing to get back up, he stuck out his hand and swam upwards. In his vision, his hand was much darker, almost as dark as his nose!

For the first time in an eternity, he could poke his whole head and neck out of the water, as well as his arm -- or any limb for that matter. While there was still time before the next impact, he tilted his head to get the water out of his ears. Oddly enough, instead of dripping right into the lake, it seemed to run down the side of his head first, starting from above where his ears should be. The flow was definitely not that of his drenched hair. After clearing both ears, he could hear the world again. No longer was everything a dull grumble; now, there was the piercing wind and the rush of the oncoming wave, both ragingly loud after the almost-silence. Somewhere far away, he thought he could hear some tree or building creak.

When the next wave came, he was ready. Treading the water, he let the wave flow past him instead of over him, guiding him in its direction. Turning around, he looked at where he was headed. The shore was a blurry mess of colors, the yellow of the beach mixing with the green of the grass and trees, the brown of the tree trunks, the gray of the sky, and the assortment of colors the houses were painted. While both of Oliver's parents needed glasses, he did not; was this how the world looked without them? Rubbing his eyes -- his hands felt fuzzy for some reason -- didn't help much. He needed some rest if, no, when he survived this. Despite his apparent second wind, tiredness still affected him. There was no way he could judge the distance to shore when everything blended together like a finger-painting. On top of that, the dark ring still encircled the bottom of his vision. Hearing the increasingly loud rush behind, he jumped up to prevent the wave from overtaking him.

The land was coming closer, but not quickly enough. He had enough strength now to lightly swim, hopefully giving him enough time to get there before his body gave up for good. Leaning forward, he started to swim, alternating between wheeling his arms and pushing them out from in front of him. His soaked shorts glued themselves to his thighs, smothering his leg hair. It was quite uncomfortable, making him feel constricted. The lack of oxygen for so long was probably messing with his mind. Fussing with them and trying to get them off would be a waste of effort, though, so he ignored it. There were more important matters to spend his energy on, such as not getting pushed underwater again.

After a minute of pressing on, he could tell that the blurry shore was somewhat larger and thus closer. Could he go faster? Going underwater, which he completely avoided since cheating death, was becoming more and more appealing. For one, he wouldn't have to contend with the waves, except for when he went up for air. Taking a deep breath, he pushed himself under the surface. His hands and feet felt funny when propelling himself forward, and he couldn't feel any water flow through his toes. He felt like he couldn't extend his arms and legs out fully, either. All of it was more of a reason to get on land quicker; his body was probably already shutting down for a second time.

Opening his eyes, the water was clear and easy to see through. The shore was still horribly blurry, but at least he had some way to measure the distance he traveled in real-time. Swimming underwater wasn't just faster, it was much faster! His arms were strange, appearing to be engulfed in brown hair and ending in black hands, tipped with little claws. It only further confirmed that his vision was messed up, but at least something other than the water was in-focus.

After returning to the surface once to replenish his air and go under, his shorts began to shift despite being plastered onto him. They felt strained at his tailbone, just under the waistband. Once they fell down a few inches, the movement stopped, causing... something... to drag behind him. Did some debris in the lake get hooked? Bringing a hand back, he found the strange object, fluffy and almost as large as his arm, and tugged at it, only to grimace in pain. He wanted to look backward and see whatever this thing was that embedded itself into his body, but he didn't need to be fooled into thinking it was something it was not by his screwy vision. Whatever it was, it would have to wait until he was out of here.

Time dragged on, feeling like hours. Exhaustion set on him again, a blanket squeezing harder and harder. This time, though, he wasn't stranded in the middle of the lake; the end was within reach! He just needed to hold out for maybe thirty more seconds. His shorts began falling down again, and this time completely came off, freeing his legs. In their last moments, they didn't feel like they were stuck to his body, but instead like they were a size too big.

The last stretch was agonizing. Bringing himself back up to the surface so he wouldn't get caught on anything that might be on the rising ground, every stroke was a struggle. The shore was getting larger, if not clearer, but so were the waves. Oliver could no longer avoid being swept under by them, and not from being tired -- they seemed to have grown their own will, wishing to drive him into the ground before he was free. Each one was larger and more powerful than the last!

With overwhelming force, Oliver was crushed against the wet sand by a dominating wave. Breathing was impossible. Lifting an arm was an extreme burden, but he needed to get away before he was flattened by the next wave. Stretching it outward, grasping for life, he pulled himself up the shore. He could not avoid the next wave, but he was only hit by the harmless tip of it. Finally, he was away from the lake. He was safe. In place of water, relief washed over him. Looking up and around, the world seemed to be getting larger. He felt dizzy. He felt tired. If he just lay down for a minute, everything would be okay...

Oliver fell asleep.

---

"Do you think it will be okay?" said a woman, unconcerned and distant.

Oliver's back hurt. Whatever he was laying on was about as soft as a stone.

"Yeah," replied a gruff voice, also distant. "I found him down by the lake. Still breathing, but all cut up and out in the cold."

What was going on, and where was he? Not daring to open his eyes or move yet, he feigned sleep.

"It's an animal, though. Aren't you afraid it'll bite you once it gets up, thinking you're the reason why it's hurting?" Whatever they were talking about, it wasn't him. The crashing of the waves and the whistling of the wind were gone, instead replaced by much quieter footsteps. The scent of orange was strong in the air, clearly from a candle. It was easier to breathe in than the breeze that had shoved itself into his face.

The voices were coming closer, making his ears twitch. "Naw. I'm not gonna let some poor creature die like that. The little guy must be far from home. You never see any otters up here." An otter? Here? "Anyway, I'm pretty sure they don't carry rabies."

"As long as you don't get yourself hurt. Need me to grab anything?"

"No, thanks. I'm gonna check up on him." Both of their footsteps became much clearer and raised a step in volume; they have entered the room. "You feeling better, small guy? Here, I think I can take that wrap off your tail now."

Oliver felt himself be grabbed... somewhere. It was near the middle of one of his legs, but it was impossible to say which -- not the right, and not the left, but he was sure it was one of them. The touch was muted, like it was over clothing, but he lost his shorts in the water. Maybe they gave him some clothes of their own or a towel to dry off with. He felt dry, anyway---

He whistled in pain, snapping his eyes open and trying to sit up, only to fall back down. The hairs of his skin were being ripped off his leg! Looking to his side, the two people stepped away. They were huge, probably ten or eleven feet tall! In fact, the whole room was huge. The couch, plants, and cabinets were all scaled up as well. Even the wooden table he was on -- no wonder why his back hurt -- was larger than he was.

Trying to get up was useless, but he could still look down. Where he was hurting wasn't a leg after all, but a tail, long and tapered to a point. His actual legs were short, almost stumpy in comparison. Bringing an arm up, he saw it was also shorter. He was brown from head to toe! Blocking his view were his deepened chest, lighter than the rest of his body, and an elongated nose. In the man's hand was the bandage that was just unwrapped from his tail.

Oliver opened his mouth. It felt funny having so much more space for his tongue to move around. "This is all a mistake! I'm not an otter! My name is---"

"Hey, hey, hey; it's okay now. I'm just trying to make you feel better." The man smiled cheerfully. All Oliver managed to do was bark and growl. Oh no, he couldn't speak! How was he going to tell them who he was?

With agonizing slowness, he rolled himself onto his side, continued onto his belly, and pushed himself off the table with his... paws, now, they would be. There had to be something in this room he could use to communicate. Looking around, anything more than a few feet away from him was blurry. Were there even glasses for other animals? Were all otters near-sighted? He wasn't while he was still human.

Over on the near edge of the table was more than he was looking for -- a stack of sticky notes, some blank paper, a few notebooks, and, most importantly, some pens and pencils. He started walking toward them, but with how sore he was, it was barely more than a crawl. Inch by inch, step by step, he got closer to his salvation, yet it was always still too far away. Come on; so near, but so distant...

His tail bumped into something, knocking it off the edge of the table. Whoops! He needed to get used to keeping track of this new limb. After that, he was picked up by the man's large hand and carried away. "Put me down! Please! This is important!" he barked, unintelligible to all.

"Calm down; it's alright. I'm moving you to somewhere you won't hurt yourself or bump into anything." No! If only he wasn't so weak!

Out he went into the hallway. Oliver tried to squirm out of the grip but gave up after a few seconds. The man took a left and turned right into a room at the end of the hall, flicking on the lights on the way in. There was a pattern of leaves of the wallpaper that gradually went out-of-focus as he was brought further into the room. Finally, he was set down on another wooden table. This one was unused for some time, empty of supplies and having a thin layer of dust that the man blew away. At head-height above the surface was an open window. Out of it, there was a blurry, thick line that was likely a road that led to the blue blob that was the lake.

"I'm sure you're hungry, little guy. Here, I'll get something for you." The man left, leaving the door open behind him.

Oliver stared out the window. Escaping would be easy. First, he would need to jump and climb up. After he made a hole in the screen -- no, these people were nice; there had to be some way to push it out -- he could jump out and land on the ground. The only issue would be figuring out where his home was with his vision once he was swimming in the lake. That, and the fact he was too tired to even crawl properly. There would be no way he could leave the property fast enough without being seen -- these people would probably think he was in danger and run out after him -- and he couldn't even swim in his current state.

Flipping himself over, not any faster this time, he basked in the warm sunlight. Sure, he was going to be reduced to someone's pet for a day or two until he recovered, but once he did, he would prove to everyone he wasn't just an otter. Then, he could find someone to make him a pair of little otter glasses and maybe some little otter clothes as well. If this was going to be who he was from now on, he may as well embrace it.