It's eerily quiet as the seventh watch takes their place. Even the crackling of the bonfire seems muted against the tyrannical silence of the night. And for almost thirty minutes, the seventh watch can't escape the ever-present feeling of being watched with the intensity that's reserved for apex predators stalking their helpless prey.

There's a blur of white, imprinted on the backs of their eyelids, passing just around the edge of the campfire. Then another. Then another and another and another. And just when whatever animal mechanism controls the human heart is ready to give out, three lanky beasts, covered in silky white fur and rippling with powerful muscles, bound out of the darkness, massive teeth bared. What do you do?