"You cannot be serious," Caspian hissed, his hand tightening around the hilt of his black crystal sword. "Primrose, that is a Kraken. It eats whales. It sinks dreadnoughts. It does not want a check-up."
Primrose ignored him, swimming steadily toward the colossal wall of tentacles. "Look at the way it's listing to the left, Neighbor. And the ink discharge is sporadic, not defensive. It's stressed."
"It is a monster!"
"It's a patient," she corrected. She reached into her dimensional storage bag—the one usually reserved for emergency snacks—and pulled out a massive slab of dried Shadow-Tuna jerky.
She waved the meat in the water. The scent drifted toward the beast.
The Kraken froze. Its giant yellow eye, the size of a carriage, swiveled down to look at the tiny, floating fox-girl. The vertical pupil dilated.
"Hi there," Primrose spoke softly, her voice projected by the water magic. "Does it hurt? Is it a big 'ouch'?"
