I’d call them sharks if not for their serpentine appearance. They had ridges along their spine, corralling their dorsal fins, and a strange feature on their bottom lip, as though the lower jaw were curled up on itself. Big as trees and saurian-shaped, they writhed through the dark and slammed into the urchin-temple.
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Heqet seated herself upon a coral throne. She was surrounded by an assortment of prettily ornamented priests, ambassadors, hunters, and farmers. She represented her people, just as she adorned them and displayed them with pride.
Infected, his eyes were bloodshot and his fingernails were broken off. He shuffled when he walked and his veins showed black through the skin. He yawned and snarled and craned his neck to see who was calling his name. And then, like an animal, he attacked. The others were drawn by the sound, and they joined in the frenzy. No longer fighting among themselves, their ill-attention was fixed upon the girl. They charged her and swarmed her and her cries weren’t those of someone seeking rescue, but of someone protecting their loved ones. She was pleading – please, don’t hurt him, please don’t do this.