He didn’t tell the others. To them, it would only be another mark of the beast. Better to stay quiet. Still, he couldn’t leave it alone. He found himself walking the cliffs in the evenings, staring out across the bay where the shelf dropped away to deep water. He swore he could feel it beneath him, moving unseen.
One night, standing on the rocks, he caught something strange. A line of bubbles broke the surface, neat and evenly spaced, running in a perfect line for a dozen meters before vanishing. He held his breath, eyes locked. Bubbles didn’t rise like that unless something was down there, exhaling, venting. But what creature breathed in straight lines?