Then the water moved again. This time, he saw it properly. Not all of it. Just enough. A long black shape rolled beneath the surface, thick enough that it couldn’t possibly belong to any normal river animal. One section of it rose and dipped again, sending a slow wave outward.
The skin — if that was what it was — looked dark, slick, and uneven, coated in patches of greenish river grime. Joaquim stopped breathing for a second. Then the thing moved toward the boat. It didn’t lunge. It didn’t burst upward like a crocodile.
It simply shifted. But the movement was so sudden, and so heavy, that the entire river seemed to push with it. The side of Joaquim’s boat jolted violently. His tackle box slid across the floorboards. A paddle clattered loose. Water splashed over the side and onto his legs.
By the time he looked up again, the shape was gone. And the river was quiet again.
