Water splashes into the boat, quickly coating the shallow floor, soaking the gang’s clothes. Thumps cascade against the hull, shifting the craft this way and that. Fassn stirs and awakens, confused.
“Water jumpers, okay,” Shyan says. “What do we do about them?”
Abia simply says, “Row.”
Just then, an object crests through the thrashing waves. It’s oblong, about the length of a forearm, with a long, stringly tail on one end. It’s a fleshy beige colour, and has no discernable face, though it has a couple of soft, ridged fins along its length.
“Hey, lookit,” Fassn says, pointing.
“Water jumper,” says Abia.
Just then it proves its name accurate, breaking contact with the water and arcing through the air over the boat. It smacks Fassn in the face, knocking him off balance and into the water.