Saltglass Cutter

Marrow saw six reflections moving against the sun. I saw an empty tidal flat, white all the way to the sky.

The reflections folded into an animal longer than a skiff and no higher than my boot. Clear fins lay against its ribs. It had been crawling under its own mirage. When it sprang, the fins opened into a dozen attacks from different pieces of glare.

Marrow threw his net over the reflection. Saltglass caught in the knots and pulled the real body off true. Its blood dried before reaching the ground. Red crystals fanned inside the net. None fell on the mud.

It hunts at the brightest hour, flattening its outline with reflected sky. A group strung out across mud or a narrow seawall gives it a distant target. If the first strike fails, it sheds brittle plates into the shallows and leaves under their dazzle.

It circles nets and bright buoys cautiously, perhaps taking the floats for rival eyes. Freshwater makes it reckless and irritable. At night it hides in deep crevices, where its own shine cannot give it away.