Ankyra Sound And I'm not wearing trainers

She thought, naively, that she would have an advantage here. After all, she was still damp from her previous dip and she thought she would adjust to the water's temperature more readily than Mahler. Their race began with the cunicular Luschyon kicking off from the sand and streaking down the beach to the water, which she plunged into with half a thought, and only then did she realize how wrong she was to assume it would be easier for her.
The cold of the Pacific water crashed over her and sucked the air from her lungs. She gasped loudly as her body slid into the water—at this point she couldn't tell if Mahler was ahead or behind, her vision was fuzzing at the edges from the temperature shock and she lost track of him in her periphery. "Holy fuck," she swore as he head came above water, teeth chattering. Her limbs felt weird and sluggish as she paddled for the rocky outcropping. She'd never dunked herself quite so quickly before and it showed in her slow movements.