From his position my best guess was that when headbutting my ass he had put so much energy into our collision that he moved in too close to shore and that a wave, or a series of waves had pushed him even further. He now was in pretty shallow water and couldn’t get out. The shark he had traveled with was in semi-deep water, just about as close as he could safely come in, moving back and forth parallel to the shore. It looked like he was trying to find a way to save the beached one. A further glance showed me that he had his own problems to worry about. The other sharks were now moving toward him.
Although still dressed in a suit, Mr. Woodard began to wade into the shallow water. He moved in the direction of the almost beached shark. I ran in front of Mr. Woodard.
“Please don’t shoot him,”
