It would be pointless to say that I doubted my own sanity, or at least my convictions, once she was in the water: of course I did. It was hard not to as she just swam safely away—side stroking and floating on her back—like an otter, like a thing born to the water; dipping and resurfacing and shaking the drops from her hair, like a swan. Indeed, it didn’t seem to be as though there was anything to worry about; at least, until the allosaurus emerged with the swamp water up to its nostrils and its dark, little eyes focused on her—at which I called out to her hoarsely, desperately, before dropping to the platform and extending an arm (for it was a good several feet from it to the surface).
“Okay, babe. It’s okay. Just—just stay calm and swim for me—all right? Don’t look at it. Don’t even look
