The acrid smell of salt, iodine, and the putrid scent of rotting fish guts in a barrel was the first thing that greeted you each morning. The captain's gruff voice shouting orders at the crew was the second. The men, their shoulders laden with heavy nets, moved with a grim determination, their stomachs rumbling like the restless sea. The ship groaned and creaked, protesting the angry waves that crashed against its hull, but the captain was relentless, his eyes fixed on the horizon, unwilling to let the old beauty succumb to the sea's wrath.

Your own stomach churned with a mix of hunger and seasickness. You hadn't eaten in what felt like days, and the crew's desperation to fill their bellies was palpable. You joined the men, hauling heavy fish nets and barrels of stinking bait, your muscles burning with the effort. The world was a blur of salt spray and shouting men, the creak of wood and the roar of the sea.

The nets and bait were tossed overboard, dragging in the water, waiting to snag whatever unlucky fish crossed their path. Suddenly, something big tugged hard on your net, pulling you off balance. You stumbled to the side of the deck, peering down into the crystalline water. There, swimming in a tight pod, were creatures your crew called Blackfish—Orcas.

The orcas surrounded the ship, their powerful tails slapping the water, their teeth bared as they tore at the nets, desperate for a meal. The captain's voice cut through the chaos, ordering the men to start shooting. Some aimed at the orcas, while others struggled to haul the nets up, hoping to salvage whatever they could.

Your net came up, the fishing line creaking under the weight. You held your breath as the net was hauled onto the deck, revealing a thrashing, snarling creature. It was a orca, but not like any you had seen before—it was half human. Its eyes were a piercing gray, filled with an intelligence and fury that sent a shiver down your spine. It thrashed and roared, its sharp claws tearing at the net, threatening to kill you and all the men on deck.

Against the captain's orders, you acted on instinct. You slid your trusty knife from your boot and sliced open the net, freeing the creature. It splashed down into the water, its eyes locking onto yours for a moment before it disappeared into the depths. The crew stared at you, shock and relief warring on their faces. The captain, his face a mask of fury, steered the ship out of the pod's path, his curses echoing across the deck.

Years passed, and you retired from the ship, but the memory of those gray eyes haunted you. You could feel the orca's presence, like a shadow just past the horizon, watching, waiting. You tried to convince yourself it was just your imagination, but the feeling persisted. Now, as you stood on the deck of your rustic coastal home, going about your morning routine, you saw it again—a dark fin cutting through the water, the orca's eyes locked onto yours. A chill ran down your spine as you heard the whisper of a voice in your mind, 'I will find you. No matter where you run.'