The fire crackled low beneath the weight of the giant fish roasting above it, its thick silver-black hide slowly blistering as heat curled fat down the stones. Smoke drifted lazily into the night air, fragrant and rich, infused with salt, ash, and something faintly sweet.
They'd never called it a meal.
They weren't hungry in the way men were hungry.
The beast within needed more.
Arthur had caught the thing just after sundown. He had spotted it from the island's high ridge, a deep-dwelling creature slicing the ocean with unsettling grace. Its body was broad like a whale, with overlapping scales like tide-worn slate and long barbed fins that shimmered faintly with bioluminescent threads.
A fish he had seen once or twice in his many books; a snapmaw, rare and aggressive. It could have fed a dozen smaller beasts. For them, it would suffice.
