Then Wind noticed something.

When he tossed a fish into the water, the Makos didn't line up politely. They raced. And when he snatched the fish back at the last second, the sharks didn't stop. They kept racing. Round and round. Chasing the empty water. Chasing each other.

Wind's stomach twisted. He didn't like watching hungry things forget everything except being hungry.

And after — there were always fewer. Fewer Makos in the circling water. Fewer fish. Torn pieces drifting where the frenzy had been.

He thought about doing it again. And again. And again — until one day there'd be no Makos left at all.

And Wind decided he wouldn't.

He cared. Even about the sharks. Even about the ones who would hunt him and eat him the very moment he made the tiniest mistake.

But he had noticed the important part too:

When the sharks were like this — spinning, snapping, wild — they forgot all about him.