There were two females and three males, dressed all in black – like a sort of uniform. The hair of the women was brightly coloured: one was a bright red, and one a bright green. They had it tied up, but you could tell even from this distance that they’d done things like wash it in clean water. And brush it.

Next to me, Lana gave a sigh. I knew it would be about the hair.

‘I know,’ said James. ‘We’ve got to warn them.’

For a second I’d forgotten, but then I realized. The kriks!

‘Hey!’ shouted James, jumping up and down and waving his arms. ‘Hey!’

‘Hey!’ I joined in. ‘Watch out!’

‘Let’s do it together,’ said James. ‘Watch out. On the count of three. One, two, three . . .’

‘Watch out!’ we all screamed. ‘Watch out!’

The kriks seemed to pause momentarily in their scurrying and scrabbling. We were making a fair bit of noise, what with the choirs and the shouting, but the people didn’t seem to hear. They continued steadily down the centre of the street, turning to face each doorway as they passed, and keeping their weapons aimed and ready.

‘Look!’ said Lana again. She was pointing to the top of the cliffs, where there was another woman in black. This one had bright blue hair, hanging loose over her shoulders and blowing lightly in the breeze, in the way that I think I remember hair moving when it wasn’t in dirty clumps and coated with a thick layer of salt. She looked amazing in her tight clothes and weapons belt. I couldn’t remember that it was possible for humans to look so sleek and beautiful; would it even have been possible for one of us to ever look like that? She also had a pair of binoculars, and was watching the town below.

Suddenly it didn’t look like it was the people who were the ones in danger. And I think we all realized it at the same time.

There was a low vibration beneath our feet, and the Jellyfish shifted, so that we had to turn to continue watching. James had stopped shouting and waving. ‘What the . . . ?’ he said.

‘I know,’ I said.

Behind us, the singing had stopped, and others were gathering beside us to watch, Soldier John squeezing in right next to me. At some point, Lana had grabbed my hand, and she was squeezing it painfully. The tentacles in front of us gave a sudden ripple, flexing up into the air in turn, before dropping down again and sucking at the water.

The five people continued silently and smoothly down Long Street, only metres away now from the clueless kriks. My krik was still picking at something on the ground, and Lana’s was still scrabbling in another wall.