The Red Tide breaks.
What's left of the horde pivots as one and runs. Not a retreat. A recall.
The same unified, mindless obedience that drove them forward now drives them back, like a swarm whose queen just screamed, "Come home."
The Reef Stalker is the last to go.
It coils its massive haunches and launches into a bounding sprint toward the dark horizon.
Three leaps in, it stops.
Turns its bifurcated jaw just enough to angle one milky tiger shark eye directly at me.
The look isn't a challenge. It isn't a threat. It isn't a promise.
I feel it's an invitation.
Next time…
Then it's gone. Swallowed by the dust and the dark.
[Warning: OXI Low]
…
[Warning: OXI Low]
"I'm almost dry," I say, letting my knees finally give.
I drop onto the blood-soaked sand, my legs folding under me with the graceless surrender of a body that has been running on fumes for the last twenty minutes.
