The predawn light was just sprouting in the crevices and corners of the sky. The air was cold, the morning quiet. Javier was still sitting cross-legged deep in slumber. The quiet and his slumber were broken by a low ominous noise. The noise started small and grew into a ferocious growl, followed by a blood-curdling howl. Answered by a chorus of howls.
The Man with the oar opened one eye and cocked his head to the side. Out of the one open eye he saw beach wolves. Standing six feet tall on four legs, they are about 3 times the size of ordinary wolves. They are both great scavengers and tremendous swimmers, able swimmers able to hunt like silver torpedoes through the ocean. There was a half dozen and they had Javier surrounded in a semi-circle; ocean to his front wolves on every other side.
Javier opens the pocket watch, winds it a few times and drops it into his pocket. The air reverberates, a low bass beat seems to come out of the ground, like a timpani drum; BOOM...BOOM...BOOM... the sand seems to vibrate slightly and glow with a faint green hue. The growl and the ghostly, earthly syncopated beat go eerily well together. The man tightens his grip on the oar, the closest wolf lets out a louder growl and lunches into the air. In one swift movement the sailor cranks the oar and spins himself to a standing position. The oar strikes the wolf on its underside flipping, to land on its back with a thump.
Turning, Javier sees two of the wolves standing close to each other. Rushing at them he swings the oar catapulting one wolf into the other, knocking the beasts out on impact. Three left. From behind a wolf attacks, raking its claws across the man's back leaving four bloody scratches, cringing only for a moment then turning Javier catches the wolves throat, raises it up, like nothing more than a sack of potatoes, and pile drives the beach wolf into the sand.
Just two left, the largest; the Alpha of the pack and the second in command; the Beta wolf.
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