Closer and closer
It curved deliberately, shifting its path back toward the boat. “It’s turning around,” a fisherman muttered, his voice trembling. Men braced themselves, shoulders squared and hands gripping weapons or railings. The fin remained above the waterline, cutting an arc closer and closer. No one dared breathe too loudly. This wasn’t a random circle. The predator’s intention was written in its path. It wasn’t curious anymore. It was preparing for another strike.
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