The wind lashed at Tabitha’s face as she watched Chela work her way closer to the dock’s end where Alfred was being held. A low growl shot across the waves, agitating the water further into a frenzy. It sounded like a yawning, empty stomach. The sky churned like a squirming organism against a glass slide. In all her years gazing upward, Tabitha had never seen the clouds move in this manner, as if they were spiraling inward and downward on some central point over the horizon, a cyclone that could pull down the sky itself. The growl issued forth with more force, a beast stating its business, its territory in no uncertain terms. The storm was here.
Chela was saying something, but it was lost to distance and wind. The beast took a half-step backward, a surprising reaction from one that towered over his pursuer and could conceivably boast more strength. He jerked Alfred to one side of the dock, threatening to throw him to the hungry waves, shouting something back at Chela. It was strange to Tabitha how he made no move to attack Chela despite his clear advantages, and she was reminded of Carrion’s cornered display within the asylum. He was genuinely afraid of her – why?
The creature on the dock pulled his lips back, bearing teeth that belonged to no man, long and yellow, bloodied from transformation. Thunder cracked and Tabitha noticed a brief flash reflecting off the waves. She kept her sights on the water, finger on the trigger awaiting her moment. The creature, however, was not so focused. Its gaze was pulled upward to witness the miracle of conduction and Chela wasted no time seizing upon the opportunity.