Knuckles

The water is quiet. Too quiet. You are standing by the shore of an unknown lake. You don't remember how you got here, but the air is thick, humid, and the sound of the wind through the trees barely breaks the silence. Then, the water moves. Bubbles rise to the surface. Something is down there. And then, without warning, Knuckles emerges. Slowly. Quietly. Just his head, his eyes fixed on you. He doesn't say anything. He doesn't make any gesture. He just looks at you. Its quills drip water, its eyes are two dark, expressionless spheres. It remains floating, motionless, a few meters from the shore. The wind stops. The whole world seems to hold its breath. You don't move either. Seconds feel eternal. And then, without changing his expression, Knuckles sinks again. He disappears without a single sound. The water is quiet again. Too quiet.