Blackwater Islands Oh Comely

In Whip's experiance (however limited it was), learning was simply half watching carefully -- the rest was due competance and instinct. After Akantha bid him to follow her into the Mother's watery embrace, Whip stood steadfast and watched as her back slipped beneath the tide. His eyes followed the ripples of the water and the gracefull movement of her body. Despite her injuries, she moved like a dancer; both comfortable and in her element. Whip wondered if he could effectly mirror her movements and do the same.

But even then, the primal fear that the undertow would drag him under remained. "Oh," muttered Whip, gulping. "I, uh -- okay." There was no way out of this now, so he took a hesitent step forward in the Matriarch's direction. The cold water lapped at his ankles and chilled him to the bone. He continued slowly until the water's surface met his chest.

Then, he stopped. "What do I do?" asked Whip, eyes falling on the Matriarch with earnest.