A circle of human noises, a vicious pounding of floating engines, ringed a stinking patch of ocean that had been converted into a death stage. It reeked of oily chum. But she could not bear to go around it – it pulled her close.
Immediately, the scents were disabling. Slick smells of fish oil and metallic blood in the water trapped her in a sensory prison. Other sharks swirled, just as confused, equally trapped, a congregation of terrible risk. Her senses burned with the chemical intensity, and her pulse raced at an angry gallop. Blood was more than a smell now; it hung in the sea like a shrieking fog, commanding an attack, driving sharks all around her to spin in near-frenzy.
A normal hunt had rules – when to pursue, when to wait, when to attack. But here, the circle of death ignited every instinct all at once, almost like every sense took over erratically and powerfully. It caused Hennessey to throw herself into the melee, to retreat, to swirl back and attack. She bulled between the other crazed sharks, thrashing the sea into froth. But always the smell was there, never letting her stand down, or turn away.
And one other smell ignited her agitation, ringing the alarm bell of her highest alert.
Overlain on the hunt was the smell of fresh shark blood. Something was killing her kind.
To start from the beginning of Hennessey's journey, click here.