Ankyra Sound And I'm not wearing trainers

she was far swifter than he; mahler watched wylla cut effortlessly into the saltwater. in a second's time he followed suit, breath struck from his chest upon entry. the frigid grip of the water thrummed in a grasp that left his limbs heavy and mahler was hard-pressed to shake water from his ears, jaw clenched against his own trembling.
wylla — to his left. mahler observed her movements, but had no skill to propel him beyond her with any speed. instead, grimly, the beast began to slice with silent lunges of his inexperienced legs toward the promontory. the bitter brine lapped alongside his muzzle, and mahler recoiled from the cold taste of it.