It was silent in a particular river far from the developed part of the world.
Insects and birds dominated the noises of the night.
As a vein of the ocean, it flowed naturally and steadily throughout its length until the vast water expanse.
From the black glass of the water, two eyes bloomed from its depths—a pair of glowing yellow pupils that cut through the dark like shards of heaven's crystal. They came out from the pitch-darkness without disturbance, and the head that followed breached the surface with the same impossible stillness.
Not a single ripple kissed the shore as it poked out.
And the face was sharp-planed and hairless with skin that was colored by the deep, bruised blue of the abyssal trenches. As it turned to survey the riverbanks for any sign of activity, there was still no ripple on the surface.
Its motion was fluid as if it was one with the river, and silent as depth-pressure.
He looked at the water leaving the river.
