Our pod never preferred to feast on carcasses, didn’t like the rot, but sometimes it was necessary. Right now, for us, newly orphaned as we are, it is necessary. We swim toward the floating creature, but it is not dead. It is not even sleeping. It turns toward us, first with a look of shock, and then with a look of fear. It is smaller than it should be. Emaciated. And it cannot swim well. Lashes on its back. It is a surface dweller of some kind. A land animal.
