C458 Mussel and clam fight

The blood was coming from his lower abdomen, the soft skin stretched out, the wound long and narrow, but deep, as if it had been cut by some animal's paw.

The paper mask slipped and revealed his waxy yellow face. He was around thirty years old, and his eyes were wide open, carrying a trace of deep fear.

He lay there in front of me, blood spattering on my shoes