Flyys relaxed his arms, letting the currents gliding between the edged fingers of the claw coral pull at him. The morkoth came closer. A tingle raced through the triton's legs, then they turned numb. Fear made his heart hammer inside his chest as he continued to take bis chance against its hypnotic powers.

Swimming effortlessly, the morkoth descended till it could touch him. The creature slid its heavy pincer against the side of Flyys's face. He felt the hard chitin graze his cheek with almost enough force to break his skin. Still, it wasn't close enough. He stared into first one bulbous eye, then the other as the morkoth dropped down and seemed almost to embrace him.

Moving lithely, with all the skill he'd had the chance to acquire in his handful of years, Flyys gripped the tapal's center handle and spun the weapon around so that it lay along his arm. Before the morkoth could move, confident that it had him in its thrall, the young triton raised his hands with the keen blade wrapped around the outside of his arm.

Flyys punched forward with all his strength. He felt the tapal's blade bite into flesh, and blood swirled into the water around him, obscuring his vision. Still, he saw the morkoth's head leave its shoulders and float away. The head glanced off one of the claw coral spires, shearing away flesh in a long strip. Before it had a chance to settle into the silt, the nearby small scavengers were already at work.

The other morkoth gathered, drawing closer.

Flyys shrugged the tapal through the water to spread the blood cloud out farther and tried not to be sick. The morkoth was his first kill. The young triton had never expected to experience the nausea that filled him as his gills drew in the bloodstained water. The taint of old copper raced through his breathing passages. He glanced up at the approaching morkoth group and set himself. The numbness that had threatened to fill his body had left as soon as the morkoth died.