The service I provide is niche, but surprisingly in demand. Owen was a fairly typical client: scruffy hair, practical clothing, and of course that intense expression around the eyes, immediately discernible even on a video call. He wanted the usual package: a full investigation, with copies of any photos including negatives. The site was a small overgrown lake in a rural spot near his home.

“I’ve always felt the lake had a…an aura. You know? Like there was something special, something … mysterious about it.”

He adjusted his spectacles and peered at me from the screen, waiting for an answer. This was always the hardest part of the job. I nodded and furrowed my brows slightly, trying to cultivate an expression both sympathetic and intrigued.

“How long have you lived in the area?”

“About five years? We moved there —my boyfriend and I— because we felt the area had potential. He has to commute for work, but I’m a blogger and podcast host so I work from home.” He paused again, waiting for me to ask about his work. I sighed inwardly and made a polite inquiry.

“It’s called ‘Britain’s Wildest Creatures.’ I don’t know if you’ve seen my map?” He waited hopefully but I failed to summon up anything beyond a blank look, so he continued, only slightly abashed. “It was voted ‘Best visual reference’ last year by the UK Cryptid Soc. It’s a comprehensive record of all the cryptids that have been reported throughout history in these Isles.” He somehow managed to capitalize the I of Isles.

“But your lake’s not on it?” I nudged the conversation back on course.

“Oh, yes, I mean no, that’s right. I’d always had a Feeling, but that was it, you know? And we need more than that don’t we, cryptozoology is a science after all! So, when I finally saw something, well, it was more than I could’ve ever hoped…” He paused, taking off his glasses and wiping them while he composed himself.

“Can you describe what you saw?”

“It was late in the day, later than I usually walk that way, almost getting dark really. And there, by the side of the lake, was a Creature.” He hesitated, looking to see my reaction, and I nodded encouragingly. “It was greenish brown, a similar color to the water, and it was half submerged— almost as though it was lying in wait? It was about the size of a large dog, but smooth. Its limbs were almost human like, but sort of webbed— I’ve never seen anything like it. But of course, as soon as it heard me it slid into the lake. I cursed myself for being so loud, but I just hadn’t expected anything —I’d never seen anything there before— I’m thinking it’s some kind of Dobhar-chú, you know we’re not far from the coast…”

“And is this the only sighting you’ve had?”

“Yes.” Here his expression of earnest focus faded slightly. “I’ve been back every day since —at the same time, at different times, I’ve tried camping out there— but nothing! It’s so frustrating. But then I was interviewing Zara Flowerdew for my podcast, and she recommended you, and, well, my boyfriend has been complaining a bit about my being out all the time, he’s terribly patient, but…”

I remembered Zara. She had seen a puma on her local heath, of which I was able to provide photographs for her. Or photographs of something which she was happy to accept was the animal she’d seen. There were some quite large cats in the area. The pictures had turned out very well.

“I’ll send you my usual rates, and if you’re happy with them then we can take it from there. Of course, I also bill for travel expenses.”

He nodded enthusiastically. “Oh yes, I’m sure that will be fine, Zara explained how reasonable your prices are. Thank you so much! I can’t tell you what this means to me.”

I smiled, nodded, and terminated the call. Otter or beaver, I wondered. All these reintroduction programs were going to net me a lot more work.

Owen met me at the train station, as eager as ever. He drove me to the lake, talking nonstop about his map and the latest additions he had planned for it— his own, of course, being top of the list.

“I’ve been doing some research in the local archives, and I’ve found records of lambs going missing dating back to the Victorian era! No other sightings so far, but I’ve plans to try the next county over— there’s a local paper that went out of print a few years ago, but the library has microfiche…”

He dropped me off on the path up to the lake. I could see he was dying to ask again if he could join me, but I’d been very clear in my documentation that I work alone. Can’t have my methods made public after all. I grabbed my rucksack and camera bag from the back seat and tried to think of something encouraging to say.

“I’ll… see you tomorrow then.” Not my best effort, but he accepted it gratefully, nodding and clasping my hand through the car window.

“I can’t tell you how important this is to me. I know it might seem like I just want more publicity for my map, but it’s really not that. I just… the way I felt when I saw it…”

I nodded back and gently disentangled my hand.

“I’ll do my best.”

The ground was uneven and grassy, and the hedge was filled with tiny white flowers. This ‘feeling’ people had when they saw something they couldn’t explain. I had never been able to understand it. They were surrounded by things they didn’t really understand, memory and mushrooms and microchips, but they took them all for granted. And yet a perfectly ordinary animal just trying to live its life was seized on as something that could give their life a meaning it had never had. I used to think it was something to do with having a secret, something only they knew about, but they all immediately tell everyone they possibly can about it. Then I wondered if it was just one in the eye for that modern god, science, but so many of them are desperate to frame their experiences in scientific terms, talking endlessly about evolutionary backwaters and genetic sequencing. I’ve come to the conclusion it’s just something I can’t share.

The lake was overgrown, with woodland at the further shore and shrubby growth around the rest. How Owen had managed to see anything was beyond me; any otter worth its salt could easily stay well out of sight. Let alone anything else. I still had several hours until dusk, so I explored a bit, looking for the best spot. There were a couple of muddy banks which looked similar to Owen’s description, as well as some less accessible areas I might want to investigate later. I mostly needed background shots anyway. I always preferred to photograph something in the area if I possibly could, and it was amazing what people’s imaginations could do. A bird, half hidden behind a tree branch, could look very like a fairy. A large fish, with the sunlight reflecting from the water at just the right angle, was surprisingly like a prehistoric animal. And of course I had some special filters of my own. But, if necessary, I wasn’t above putting in some images from my own collection. I was always honest about it — I explained that the creature had not made an appearance, but that the environment and other signs had reminded me of another site I had visited, additional photographs included. Admittedly, I wasn’t entirely sure how much they listened to that part. I didn’t really like doing it at first, but I eventually realized that I was only giving them what they wanted — a connection to that mysterious sense of wonder.

I set up motion activated cameras in various likely spots and settled down myself near one of the mudbanks. The chances that the animal —if it even existed—  would happen to appear were slim, I knew. Of course they were generally wary of humans, which explained why Owen hadn’t managed to repeat his experience. I hoped I would have more luck.

I prepared myself, removing anything that smelled of people and hiding my bags. Leaning back into the willows, I closed my eyes and felt time beginning to slow. The water sloshed gently against the shore, and the birds began to go back about their business. I heard a duck family make its way into the water, the mother loudly directing her children as they dabbled for waterweed. Frogs croaked and plopped. The light shifted as the day wore on, and the movement of the air settled into an evening calm. Then I heard something I hadn’t been expecting.

A larger creature was moving under the water. Maybe there really was an otter? But this was moving differently, shifting the mud at the bottom of the lake in a way no otter would. I saw some ripples grow a few feet out and then a dark head appeared, peering around the shoreline. I breathed only with the tree, my movements like branches swaying. The creature pulled itself out onto the bank, took one last look around, and stretched itself. It wriggled about in the mud, for all the world like a horse rolling off the day in fresh damp grass. It was indeed as Owen had described, a sort of dog-newt-ape thing, with large eyes at the top of its head. It had only been rolling for a moment or so, I hadn’t had time to do anything, when something else appeared.

This one was bigger. It was almost my size in fact, and it was less sleek and wriggly looking, but otherwise very similar. It did not look happy.

“What are you doing? How many times to I have to tell you to stay away from this beach?” Its voice was wet and bubbly, but the words were recognizable— to me at least.

“But it’s the only muddy one! It just feels so good…and I need it to keep my skin healthy, remember? That’s what you said!”

“I know, but…”

The creature paused. A human would never have seen me. But it tilted its head to the air, neck slits opening and closing. I knew I was caught.

Slowly, I allowed myself to fade back into the foreground. The smaller creature made a terrified squeaking sound, but the adult shushed it, placing a calming webbed paw on its back.

“Who are you?”

I recognized the challenge in its voice.

“Greetings. I am a visitor here. I believe you are aware that you have been Seen?”

The creature sagged slightly.

“Yes. It was the little one… I was not close enough to warn them in time. We thought if we just stayed at the other side of the lake— but this one forgets…”

I sighed. I really hadn’t been expecting this. It had been so long I had forgotten how upsetting this situation always was.

“You should know that the human has asked me to photograph you. Of course I haven’t” —as they recoiled in horror— “but he will not be put off now he has Seen you. I can placate him, but you will have to move on.”

The two did not respond for a moment, then the adult sat on the mud and bent its head. The smaller one hid its face in its parent’s shoulder and the two huddled together. The adult looked up at me again.

“We cannot. We have moved so many times. So many places we thought were safe—   but humans are everywhere. Here is so sheltered, we thought it would be better. Every time, the little one suffers. They are only just recovered from our last journey. I do not know if they will be able to recover again. The dryness, the walking— it is too much. We just— cannot.”

“I don’t think you understand. If the humans learn about you, they will not leave you in peace. There will be crowds up here, cameras, they will be on the water with boats and nets…”

“Wait. You have talked to this human. You are Seen. Why cannot we be also?”

I sighed again. I hated explaining this. Maybe because I hated thinking about it at all.

“They don’t know about me. They think I’m human too.”

The creature blinked its limpid eyes, its gaze travelling up and down my shape.

“I wear human clothes,” I explained. “They see what they want to see.”

It sat for a while in thought.

“They have Seen us,” it said eventually. “We cannot hide in plain view the way you do. But perhaps we can find a way. There are no other choices.”

It was being so stubborn! The last time this had happened, on a rocky shore far north from here, another creature had taken a lot of persuading. But that was just because the fishing had been so good at that particular beach. Once she had realized exactly what ‘tourist destination’ would mean she had turned tail faster than thought. No doubt she could now be found on the map of ‘Britain’s Wildest Creatures.’

Did this one not realize the humans would likely take its child, unleash the forces of ‘science,’ that hundreds or even thousands would crave that sense of wonder they prized so highly —I opened my mouth to try again to explain but— something had struck me. I remembered Owen leaning out of his car window, the pleading expression in his eyes.

“Well…I suppose there is something we could try.”

I wasn’t optimistic. But I didn’t see any other option.

As it turned out, it was Owen’s boyfriend who made me believe it would actually work. Of course, Owen himself was all wide-eyed excitement and promises to never reveal anything to another living soul. But his boyfriend Robbie was cut of a different cloth. He’d been skeptical at first —I could see why Owen hadn’t brought him to meet me— but he was no unbeliever. He just needed more than a blurred photograph or a shape seen for a second at dusk. And when he met the lake creatures, he took charge immediately, asking me what they needed, what he and Owen should do to keep them safe, and researching ownership of the lake so they could begin work on securing its safety as soon as possible. He was gentle towards Owen too —he obviously adored that naive enthusiastic side of him— but he immediately shut down Owen’s suggestion that they consider bringing the local wildlife group in to help.

“No one, Owen. You heard. Not even you and I are going to be coming up here more than necessary. Which reminds me— how will we know if they need anything? We want something more specific than these hand signals. I wonder if I’d be able to learn a little of their language, in time…”

It turned out he worked with humans in similar difficulties. People don’t seem very keen on other humans turning up on their shores, even if they have nowhere else to go. Quite different from their excitement when they think they’ve found a new type of animal, strangely enough. But not much fun either way for the object of their attentions.

I noticed Robbie giving me some very sharp looks. I couldn’t work out if he was figuring out my mode of business or something more personal, but I wasn’t keen to have either discussion. Besides, they seemed to have things set up pretty well with the lake dwellers for now at least. I wasn’t needed any more, and I didn’t think there was anything I could do to ensure their bargain stayed afloat. I was going to have to trust to good nature and need on both sides.

Owen drove me back to the train station. He was full of ideas for ‘helping’— cleaning out the lake, taking up toys for the baby, devising elaborate communications systems… I tried to dissuade him, but I just had to hope that Robbie would keep him in line. He didn’t seem to wonder why I had asked him for help instead of just getting his photos and moving on. The excitement of the lake creatures being actually real had wiped everything else from his mind. I wondered if he had ever really believed the photos would be genuine, deep down, even if he wouldn’t admit it to himself. Would the wonder fade, as he got used to them? Would he start to see them as tainted with humanity, with his own humanity, no longer imbued with the magic of something truly Other? Well, that was in their hands. There was nothing I could do about it.

At the station he wrung my hand as though he never wanted to let it go. “I don’t know how to thank you. This has changed my life, it really has. There aren’t words to describe…”

I shook his hand and started to murmur some of my usual patter. But then I remembered it wasn’t that kind of moment.

I wanted to tell him to remember that they were people too, that they were different and they were the same and that he had to remember both sides, always, and treat them not how he would want to be treated but how they wanted to be. I wanted to tell him to stop looking for magic in things that didn’t exist and start noticing it in things that did. I wanted to tell him that his people had to stop finding everything if they wanted some things to stay hidden.

But he was human, and he would not understand. So, I just said goodbye.

On the train home, I watched the landscape skim by the way it always did. I wondered if it was time to move again; I generally only uprooted myself if people started getting suspicious, but I felt oddly restless. Something in me wanted to try the old places again, to see if there was somewhere the rumors were true; to find my people. After the last attempt, years ago now, I had sworn to never again fall for the temptation; the pain of disappointment was so acute I was not sure I could bear it. But then, I had never thought anyone else would choose to be Seen, could reach out for help only to find others reaching back. Maybe there was a chance. Maybe it was time.