Project Eden
Copyright© 2026 by Uruks
Chapter 8: The Storm
Science Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 8: The Storm - Adam wakes up in a prehistoric jungle teaming with dinosaurs and other dangerous beasts. He doesn't know who he is or where he came from. All he knows is that he is a human man, his name is Adam, and he has to fight to survive. Utilizing superhuman strength and uncanny intelligence, Adam starts asserting his dominance to become the Ultimate Alpha Predator. However, his ambitions are complicated by the arrival of the beautiful woman known as Eve, the first human Adam has ever encountered.
Caution: This Science Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Romantic Heterosexual Science Fiction Alternate History Post Apocalypse Robot Rough Big Breasts Nudism Violence
Near The River – Afternoon
Eve pulled Adam’s limp, heavy body toward the muddy shore, her own body trembling with exhaustion and adrenaline. She was drenched, her hair a tangled, sodden curtain across her face, and her hands still stung, the shallow cuts she’d earned trying to pry the shark’s jaws open now throbbing in time with her frantic heart. She collapsed beside him on the bank, struggling to get her breathing under control, the taste of his blood and the river still thick in her mouth. Fear and despair waged a war inside her, a chaotic storm that left her shaking.
Adam was unconscious, his face an unnaturally pale mask against the mud, and his legs were a bloody ruin. The shark had done its work with savage efficiency. Great chunks of flesh were torn away from his thighs and calves, exposing the white, glistening sheen of bone and the thick, crimson cables of muscle beneath. The wounds were deep, ragged, and still weeping a slow, steady tide of blood that stained the earth around him.
Eve’s hands flew to her mouth, a choked sob escaping her lips as she started to cry, the tears burning hot tracks down her cold, muddy cheeks. She feared the worst.
“Adam,” she sobbed pathetically, leaning over him, her voice cracking. “Adam, please. Please, open your eyes. I can’t do this without you. I can’t live alone in this world again. I can’t.”
She continued to sniffle without restraint, her grief a raw, open wound, when Adam suddenly rolled his head to the side and coughed up a torrent of river water. After he finished gasping and coughing, Eve held her breath, her entire world shrinking to the space between them. His eyes slowly drifted open. They were hazy, unfocused at first, but then they locked onto her.
His hand came up, trembling slightly, to stroke her cheek as he spoke, his voice a hoarse, weak rasp. “Eve. My Eve ... are you alright?”
She let out a loud, shuddering sob and threw herself against him, hugging him tightly and kissing his face, his lips, his forehead repeatedly as she said, “You big, dumb lummox. You’re torn to pieces and nearly drown ... and then you ask if I’m alright. Think about yourself for once.”
He weakly returned the hug, his arms barely having the strength to circle her as he kissed her back as best he could. They just held each other for a long moment, Eve continuing to cry her heart out against his chest.
After a while, Adam gently pushed Eve back, his gaze falling to his ruined legs. “Hmm,” he said, as if the mangled, exposed flesh were only a slight inconvenience. “They aren’t healing as quickly as they should. And the pain is quite excruciating, if I do say so.”
Panic started to rise in Eve’s chest, sharp and suffocating, as she leaned into his shoulder. “You’re not healing! Why aren’t you healing?! Why?!”
Adam patted her gently, his calm unbreakable even in this state. “Eve. I noticed something about my healing abilities. They usually work faster if I’ve had something to eat. Protein, in particular.”
Eve gasped. “What?”
Adam continued with that same stoic authority. “I need meat, Eve. I haven’t eaten all day. We skipped breakfast to focus on your training. You have to hunt and kill something.”
Eve nodded frantically as she held up the knife, its handle still slippery with the shark’s blood. “I’ll find some fish. You can eat that.”
Before she could scramble away, Adam took her arm. “Eve. Be careful when you go near the water. I don’t think I need to tell you that its more dangerous than we could’ve possibly imagined.”
Eve nodded, pressing a frantic kiss to his lips as she murmured, “I’ll fish in the shallows ... where the monsters won’t be able to reach me.”
Eve sprinted away, but not too far, keeping Adam in her sight at all times. She moved to a shallow, rocky inlet where the water was clear and flowed quickly. She stood perfectly still on a mossy stone, her body a coiled spring, her eyes scanning the crystalline water. She saw them then—silver flashes of movement, sleek river trout darting between the stones. She waited, her patience honed by weeks of training, until the largest one swam into the perfect position. With a fluid, practiced motion, she drew her arm back and then forward, releasing the knife in a blur of black motion. It flew true, spinning end over end before disappearing into the water with a small plink. A moment later, it re-emerged, pinning the thrashing fish to the sandy bottom.
Not long after, she returned with the large, still-writhing fish in hand. Adam weakly took the fish, but then he gave Eve a careful look. “Eve. I need you to know something. If, for whatever reason, I can’t heal from this wound, you must leave me here.”
Eve’s heart went cold as she said, “What the hell are you talking about?”
Adam said calmly, “I’m saying that with injuries like these, I’ll be a cripple. A liability to you in this place. Under those circumstances, you must leave me here to die or else share my fate.”
Eve growled at him, her hand lancing out to slap the side of his head. “Idiot!” she snarled. “Under those circumstances, I’d slit my own throat before I’d even consider leaving you to die.”
Adam glared at her. “And you lectured me for not thinking about myself.” He sighed as he rubbed his head. “And you still hit me ... even when I’m weak and injured.”
Eve let out a shuddering breath as she rubbed her hand over her eyes. “I’m sorry for hitting you,” she said. “But you need to stop saying stupid things like that.” She glared at him, and said with a certainty that bordered on a vow, “You’re going to get better. You always do. Because if you don’t ... if you’re really doomed to die here, then I’ll die with you.”
Adam shook his head, turning away from her as he looked at the fish in his hands. “Stubborn woman,” he muttered.
And then, with a grimace of pain, he sank his teeth into the fish’s belly, tearing off a huge chunk of raw, bloody flesh and swallowing it whole. Adam ate the fish’s flesh greedily, a primal urgency driving his every motion.
He sank his teeth into the raw, bloody muscle, tearing off huge chunks with a series of feral, ripping sounds. He barely chewed, swallowing the wet, slick pieces of flesh whole, his throat working convulsively. The coppery, river-water taste of the blood filled his senses, a foul but necessary fuel. However, he paused mid-bite, his crimson eyes focusing on Eve’s hands, where the shallow cuts from the shark’s teeth were still red and angry. He tore off another hunk of flesh and held it out to her.
“Here. You take some.”
She shook her head, pushing the dripping chunk back toward him. “No. You need all of it if you’re going to heal those wounds.”
Adam refused to budge, his expression stubborn despite his weakness. “Eve. You’re injured as well. You’re low on calories, just like me. You need to build up energy to heal those wounds and renew your stamina.”
Eve scoffed, holding up her hands for his inspection. “I have some cuts on my hands.” She then pointed at his mangled legs. “Meanwhile, your legs have nearly been chewed off! You need the calories more than I do!”
Adam said simply, “Eve. You know full well that I’m just as stubborn as you are. Just take one bite, or I’ll refuse to finish it.”
Eve glared at him, a battle of wills she knew she couldn’t win. She snatched the meat from his hand and chewed it angrily, the raw, fishy taste unpleasant on her tongue. “There! Happy?!”
He nodded in satisfaction. “Yes.”
Then he finished off the rest of the fish, his powerful jaws working methodically. He didn’t stop at the flesh; he crunched the fish’s skull between his teeth, the sound a wet, popping crack, and swallowed the pieces of bone, consuming the entire creature without a trace of waste.
After Adam finished eating, a visible change began to occur. The steady bleeding from his legs slowed, then stopped. The raw, exposed muscle began to twitch and ripple, and slowly, fibrous, pink tendrils of tissue started to bridge the gaps, weaving themselves over the ruined flesh in the familiar, miraculous process of his regeneration. Eve let out a gasp of relief as she leaned into his hard shoulder.
“Oh, thank goodness,” she murmured as she placed a kiss to his shoulder and another to the side of his neck.
He stroked her hair before taking one of her injured hands and holding it tenderly. He noted, “Your wounds are healing as well. My theory was correct ... as usual.”
Adam tried to force himself to stand, his muscles straining with the effort, but Eve pushed him back down. “You need to rest, Adam.”
He shook his head, a grim determination etched on his face as he forced himself to his feet, swaying unsteadily.
When she tried to push him down again, he shoved her away, not with malice, but with a firm, irresistible force. She went to the ground with a small yelp of surprise. From her back, she glared up at him as he stood shakily on his still-healing legs, a towering testament to sheer willpower.
He said, “We’re in an unfamiliar part of the jungle. We can’t afford to wait around here.”
Eve growled as she scrambled to her feet and moved to his side, supporting his weight as he draped an arm around her shoulder. She muttered, “And you call me stubborn. You jackass.”
He grinned at her, a flash of his old, cocky self returning. “Eve. You still love me, even when you’re angry at me, right?”
She looked at him, perplexed. “Of course, I still love you. It’s because I love you that I’m angry with you right now. You insist on being the hero all the time even when you can barely walk.”
He nodded, humming thoughtfully. “That’s comforting to hear.”
They started walking, a slow, painful pace through the unfamiliar foliage. Eve’s temper cooled slightly as she asked, “When you told me to leave, you didn’t honestly think that I would, did you?”
Adam sighed and shook his head. “No. But it seemed a better alternative than putting you in danger.”
Eve grinned as she looked up at him. “And if our positions were reversed, we both know that you wouldn’t even consider leaving me.”
Adam looked at her, and in his crimson eyes, she saw the depth of his feeling for her as he said, “Of course I wouldn’t. If anything happened to you, I’d have no reason to linger in this world. I’d find the T-Rex and let him eat me without putting up a fight. I’d deserve no less for having failed you so profoundly.”
Eve found herself smiling, a warmth building inside her chest despite everything. “I guess the both of us had better work hard on not dying, then.”
Just as they were about to leave the river behind, Adam paused, his hand tightening on Eve’s shoulder for support.
“Wait,” he said, his voice strained as he did his best not to show how much pain he was in.
He turned, indicating their clothes, still lying in a discarded pile on the muddy bank. “Let’s get dressed. We may not be able to find this place again.”
For once, Eve was the pragmatic one. “Adam. There are more important things than covering our nakedness right now. Besides, I have other clothes made at the cave.”
Adam took a deep, steadying breath, articulating his reasoning with careful precision. “Those clothes are special. They were made from the deer hides from our first hunt together. I wouldn’t want to lose them.”
Eve looked at him, her expression unreadable for a long moment.
“What are you looking at me like that for?” he asked.
She sighed, giving a small, disbelieving laugh as she shook her head. Then she pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek. “You’re such a romantic sometimes. It makes me wonder how logical you really are.”
She carefully eased his weight onto a nearby tree, the rough bark scraping against his back, as she darted off to gather up their clothes. Eve dressed herself first, the familiar feel of the soft deerskin loincloth and the sturdier leather bra a small comfort against her skin. Then she returned to Adam, holding his simple loincloth. She knelt, her movements gentle and practiced as she carefully dressed him, her fingers mindful of his legs which were still slowly knitting themselves back together. The new skin was pink and fragile, and the deeper gashes were still open, weeping a clear, pinkish fluid. He gasped only slightly as the rougher leather of the loincloth’s ties brushed against the most sensitive cuts. Eve hated seeing him like this, so vulnerable and still in pain. But he seemed to be getting a little stronger as time passed, the flesh on his legs healing visibly better, the color returning to his face.
When they were dressed, Eve looked down at the obsidian knife still clutched in her hand, its dark blade now cleaned of the shark’s blood but still seeming to hum with a violent energy. She held it out to him.
“Here.”
However, Adam shook his head, his gaze fixed on the weapon. “You keep it. I’m strong enough that I can fight off predators with my arms if need be. That knife is your only defense.”
Eve sighed, a mix of resignation and understanding. “Alright. But if we do come across any predators, this time, I’ll be the one to fight them off.”
As she slid the stone knife into the leather belt around her loincloth, she found Adam looking at her strangely, an unreadable expression in his crimson eyes.
She put her hands on her hips. “What?”
Adam shook his head slowly. “Nothing. Just ... the thought of being protected by you ... it makes me feel ashamed of myself.”
Eve smirked, crossing her arms over her chest. “You can’t save me all the time. Besides, I did my fair share against that shark back there.”
Adam shook his head, his voice dropping with a heavy sincerity. “I don’t know if you can understand. You are weaker and more fragile than I am. For you to protect me instead of the other way around ... Regardless of the circumstances, it’s not right.”
Eve found herself growing slightly frustrated, her own sense of competence bristling. “I’m not completely helpless, Adam. I did survive for quite some time without you.”
“I know,” he said, his look never wavering. “But I still don’t like the idea of you endangering yourself for my sake.”
She became a little indignant, her voice rising slightly. “Are you saying that I can’t fight if I need to?”
His look was so tender, so filled with a profound vulnerability that she found her angry arguments fading away. He said gently, “No. I’m saying you shouldn’t have to.”
He glanced down at his legs, still feeling the phantom weight of his injury, a weakness that had yet to fully recover. “I hate this,” he admitted, his voice barely a whisper. “I never wanted to be a burden to you. I always want to be strong for you.”
Eve felt her love for him increase tenfold, overwhelming her frustration. She reached out and rubbed his arm, her touch soft and reassuring. “You are always strong for me, Adam.”
The shared a small, understanding smile, but the moment didn’t last. Thunder rumbled overhead. Adam looked up at the sky, his brow furrowing. The dark storm clouds had gathered, turning the afternoon into a premature twilight. A silent, spiderweb flash of lightning illuminated the clouds from within, and a mighty thunderclap followed. Eve flinched slightly at the sound, a primal instinct stirring within her.
“We need to hurry,” Adam said, his voice low and urgent. “It looks like the storm is going to be a bad one.”
Just as they were about to make their way into the woods, the wind changed direction. It shifted from the damp, cool scent of the river to something else entirely, carrying a familiar, gut-wrenching scent to their nostrils. It was the musky, foul stench of unwashed bodies, rank fur, and the coppery tang of old blood.
They both tensed instantly, their sharp senses already picking up on the sound of many creatures closing in on them from not too far away—the rustle of leaves, the snapping of twigs, the low, guttural chattering that was rapidly growing louder. It was the apes ... and from the sound of it, there was a lot of them.
The sky was an enraged, bruised purple as rain began to fall, fat, heavy drops that quickly became a torrential downpour. The river churned below, its surface whipped into a frothing, chaotic mess by the howling wind. But more frightening than the storm were the sounds and smells of the apes as they drew closer. Already, the woods echoed with a cacophony of hooting, growling, and the guttural sound of chattering teeth, a chorus of predatory intent that promised only violence.
Adam growled, a low, frustrated sound. “This is the worst possible timing.” He looked down at his legs, the new skin still pink and fragile, the deep gashes an angry, weeping red. “If I were only at my full strength, I’d kill them all.”
Eve drew the obsidian knife, its dark blade a promise of defiance, and grabbed Adam’s arm with her other hand, pulling him. “Come on. We have to get back to the cave.”
They dashed into the jungle, their pace an agonizing mockery of their usual supernatural speed. Adam did his best to keep up with her, but every step was pure agony, a fresh wave of fire shooting up from his legs. He gritted his teeth against the pain.
“Eve! Leave me! I’ll hold them off!”
Her eyes flashed angrily at him as she maintained their grueling pace. She growled, “Keep talking like that, and I’ll use this knife on you instead of them.”
They were deep into the forest when the first ape came at them, a hulking brute of muscle and rage, snarling wildly. Adam, despite his condition, immediately lowered his shoulder and tackled the creature, grappling with it in a whirlwind of snapping teeth and flailing limbs. Another came bounding at Eve on all fours, a smaller but faster ape, its lips peeled back in a furious snarl. Eve braced herself, her feet planted firmly as she brandished the knife, her body coiled and ready.
Adam, locked in a life-or-death wrestle, was a vortex of pure fury. He ignored the searing pain in his legs as he grappled with the ape, its thick, powerful arms struggling to break his hold. He slammed its head against the ground once, twice, stunning it. Before it could recover, he lowered his head and sank his teeth into the thick muscle of its shoulder, ripping off a huge, bloody chunk of meat with a feral grunt. The ape screamed in pain and shock, but Adam wasn’t finished. He drove his thumbs directly into its eye sockets, the wet pops of the yielding tissue drowned out by the storm. With a final, guttural roar of effort, he tore its lower jaw clean off its skull, silencing it forever.
Meanwhile, Eve moved with a fluid, deadly grace that was all her own. As the second ape lunged, she sidestepped with supernatural speed, her body a pale blur. She didn’t try to meet its charge; she flowed with it, letting its momentum carry it past her. In that split second, she struck, driving the knife deep into the soft spot behind its ear, severing its spinal cord in one expert, decisive thrust. The ape crumpled to the ground, dead before it hit the leaves.
Eve’s hands shook with adrenaline and the sheer violence of the act, but she felt a fierce, satisfying surge of pride that her body had responded exactly as Adam had taught her.
Adam, panting from his own ordeal, wiped the blood from his lips. He looked down at her work, and muttered, his voice thick with approval, “Good job.” He grabbed her arm, pulling her along this time, his pace increasing slightly. “Let’s keep moving.”
“Adam! You’re getting better!” Eve shouted over the storm.
“Still not at one hundred percent,” Adam replied, his breath ragged. “But yes, better than I was before. The meat from that ape helped.”
They heard the ape pack hooting and growling angrily all throughout the jungle. Some let out screams of pure outrage as they found their dead companions, the sound fueling their pursuit. Despite their newfound momentum, Adam still couldn’t build up enough speed to get away. The apes were relentless, closing in on them from all sides, forcing the couple to change directions in a chaotic, terrifying race through the rain-lashed forest. The humans dodged through thickets, leaped over fallen logs, and splashed through muddy rivulets, but the sounds of pursuit grew closer, more organized.
Soon, they were cornered at the edge of a cliff. The storm-ravaged world fell away into a dizzying, seemingly bottomless chasm. The cliff was impossibly tall. Even with their healing factors, Adam wasn’t sure if they could survive the fall. But as the apes closed in, their ranks a wall of fur and fury, he wondered if it might be their only chance.
“Eve, we have to jump.”
She looked down at the terrifying drop, then back to the trees, clenching the knife close to her chest. She shook her head, her eyes wide with a different kind of fear.
“No. It’s too high, especially in your condition. I say we hold our ground and fight them off. They’re bound to grow frightened and run away if we kill enough of them.”
Adam took her arm, his voice desperate. “Eve! There’s too many! We have to...”
But before they could make up their minds, the apes broke through the tree line. It was not a charge, but a sudden, horrifying presence, the wall of the jungle simply parting to reveal dozens of them. Each was a mountain of corded muscle and matted black fur, larger and stronger than the mightiest silverback gorillas. Their black eyes were not the vacant pits of a dumb beast; they burned with a vengeful, chilling intelligence that promised torture, not just a quick death.
The battle was brutal, an instantaneous explosion of violence in the heart of the storm. The sky wept, and the wind howled, and the jagged spears of lightning illuminated the carnage in stark, freezing flashes.
Eve fought with a speed and agility that defied her fear, her knife a blazing extension of her will as she carved a path of death. An ape swung a massive, gnarled fist at her head; she dropped low, the wind of the passage ruffling her hair, and spun upward, driving the obsidian blade deep into the creature’s femoral artery.
A hot geyser of blood sprayed into the rain as the ape bellowed, stumbling and collapsing. She was a whirlwind of pale skin and lethal intent, dodging, weaving, and striking with a cold, precise fury that left apes screaming and bleeding in her wake. She severed tendons, slashed throats, and stabbed into any vulnerable flesh she could find, her movements a blur of trained, deadly grace.
Adam, despite the fire lancing up his legs, accorded himself with a terrifying savagery. He was a demigod of war, a force of pure, primal annihilation. He met an ape head-on, catching its swinging fist in his hand. The knuckles cracked and popped as he squeezed, bone and gristle crumbling until the creature was screaming, its hand a useless mangled stump.
He threw the maimed beast aside with a flick of his wrist, sending it tumbling into two of its charging companions. All three went down in a flailing, screaming heap right at the cliff’s edge. Before they could disentangle themselves, Adam lunged forward and kicked out with all his might, his foot connecting solidly with the mass of bodies. In a horrifying chorus of surprised shrieks, all three apes were knocked over the edge to go tumbling, their screams swallowed by the storm and the infinite void below.
He kicked another’s legs out from under it and, before it could rise, brought his heel down on its skull with a sickening, wet crunch that splintered bone and brain matter across the mud. He was a force of nature, but even nature has its limits.
Their luck didn’t last. The sheer weight of numbers turned his strength against him. As Adam tore one ape apart, another two would leap onto his back, their weight and fury driving him to his knees. Dozens of blows—punches that felt like hammers, kicks that cracked ribs, and clubbing strikes from makeshift branches—rained down on him, leaving him bloodied and bruised, his body a canvas of fresh, gaping wounds.
“ADAM!” Eve screamed.
Her voice tore through the storm’s fury as she watched him being beaten to a bloody pulp, his face a swelling mask of blood, his body succumbing to the overwhelming assault. She fought her way toward him, her knife a blur as she gutted the ape blocking her path, but she was quickly overwhelmed herself. Furry hands, impossibly strong, grabbed her from all sides, tearing the knife from her grasp with a violent tug. She kicked and bit, struggling fiercely in their grasp, but a heavy, club-like blow struck the back of her head, and the world exploded into a starburst of pain before plunging into absolute darkness. Her face went slack. Her limp body was held with surprising care as the apes, their prize secured, turned and carried her away into the jungle’s shadowed heart.
“EVE!” Adam screamed.
The sound was a raw, agonized roar of pure denial. He forced himself to rise through a haze of agony, shoving the apes off him with a surge of renewed fury. He lunged forward, sinking his teeth into the throat of the nearest ape and tearing it out in a torrent of blood. The ape fell dead with a sickening thud as the others recoiled in fear.
But his momentary defiance was his last. One particularly large ape, its face a mask of scarred fury and old wounds, leveled a bone-shattering blow to Adam’s jaw. The world spun, and pain exploded through his skull as he was sent flying, his body cartwheeling over the edge of the cliff and into the bottomless void below. For a moment, he was weightless, tumbling through the shrieking wind. His body slammed into the cliff face, a sickening symphony of agony as his shoulder dislocated and ribs cracked, grinding against his lungs. He bounced off the wet stone, flung back out into the open air. The rain lashed his face as he plummeted into the chasm. The last thing he registered before the darkness claimed him was the sickening lurch in his stomach and the rapidly approaching promise of the rocks below.
The Bottom Of The Cliff...
The storm was a living entity, a roaring beast of wind and water that clawed at the world. The rain was a cold, ceaseless assault, stinging his broken skin and pooling in the crevices of the rock beneath him. The sun had not set, but the storm clouds were a dense, suffocating blanket that plunged the chasm into a violent, premature night. Adam, beaten and broken at the bottom of the cliff, woke not all at once, but in pieces, each new wave of consciousness bringing with it a fresh dimension of agony.
The first sensation was sound, not the storm, but a high-pitched, desperate whine that cut through the thunder. Then came touch, the rough, wet scrape of a sandpaper tongue against his cheek, followed by the concerned nudge of a large, furry head. He tried to speak, but only a wet, ragged sound escaped, bringing up a thick glob of dark, clotted blood that dribbled down his chin.
“Toothy?” he rasped, his voice a ruined whisper, the word feeling like shards of glass in his throat. “Is that you?”
The tiger licked his face again, its low, rumbling purr a strange, comforting vibration against his broken body. He groaned, a sound that originated from the very marrow of his bones, as he forced himself to take stock of the ruin. His left arm was bent at a horrifying, unnatural angle, a compound fracture where the white, jagged end of the ulna had torn through the skin, gleaming dully in the gloom. His jaw was a throbbing, misaligned mass of agony, the bone grinding sickeningly with every shallow breath he managed to draw. Ribs on his right side were shattered, pressing inward with a sharp, piercing pain that made him feel like a lung was punctured with every flutter of his heart. The fall had been a brutal, comprehensive assault, and his body, for the first time, was failing to answer the call.
He let out a strangled, bloody laugh that was more of a cough. “Damn it,” he gurgled. “I promised I’d never call you Toothy. Just another bet that Eve won. Don’t tell her.”
But the thought of her was a key turning a lock in his mind, and it all came flooding back in a horrifying, soul-crushing wave—the seething mass of fur, the overwhelming numbers, the cliff’s edge, and Eve’s serene face as she was carried unconscious away into the jungle. Eve.
“EVE!” he tried to scream, but it came out as a choked gurgle of pure despair.
He tried to rise, to move, to do something, but the movement sent a bolt of pure, white-hot agony through him that nearly sent him back into unconsciousness. He was in worse shape now than when the shark had shredded his legs. He was dying. His body wasn’t healing.
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