"Hmm?"
A soldier turned his head slowly, sensing a ripple in the water.
Something had disturbed the surface, but he saw nothing—no movement beneath the boat, no shapes cutting through the depths.
"What's wrong?" asked another soldier, walking along the floating bridge that connected two of the patrol boats.
The bridge was made of large, sealed gallons tied tightly together, forming a makeshift path that bobbed with the water's gentle rise and fall.
Around them, multiple boats drifted in slow patrol patterns. Over a dozen were anchored, spread out evenly at strategic intervals across the water.
The soldier who had sensed the disturbance squinted at the water once more before shaking his head. "Nothing," he muttered.
The other soldier nodded and kept walking, his boots thudding softly on the barrels.
Meanwhile, beneath the water's surface, Austin clicked his tongue and retreated silently.
