Blackwater Islands Oh Comely

Pushing through his inhibitions, Whip tried to do as he was told lest he bring the wrath of the Matriarch upon him for his apprehension. He drew breath and gulped, setting himself into motion as his paws carried him out to sea and into the watery unknown with wide sweeping strokes. Terror reared its ugly head in Whip's chest; tighteing, coiling with every step. He did not wish to continue. Looking back over his shoulder, Whip cast a worried glance toward the shore. The Matriarch did her best to reassure him, but Whip wasn't entirely sold on her good-nature. Especially now, as he waded deep enough that the water began to rise over his back.

Soon, all that remained above the surface was Whip's head. He took a long, deep breath as if it were to be his last and then he closed his eyes. With another step forward, Whip could no longer touch the bottom. He could tread water awkwardly, and with his first exploratory movements, Whip found that swimming was largly instinctual.

He stayed close and he swam slow -- and even went far enough to cast Akantha a surprised, yet somewhat proud glance as if to say: Look what I can do.