Before he knew it the water was all around him. He smacked the surface and was beneath it, gulping the cold and spitting it out, while a column of air escaped and frothed the surface. The flow of the water was so violent against him—but he saw the shining of the stone and moved, as if possessed, through the depths. A scramble nearer the bottom—prior to being pushed one way or another by the current—and in a desperate bid, Kwetau's eyes shut and he grappled with it, maw to stone, before being dragged towards the surface.

His mottled body was thrust free of the water as violently as he had entered it—practically spat out upon some shallows, scraping his chest and cheeks against similarly throttled gravel deposits. He was delirious, and did not think to lift himself free of the water immediately. There was no sign of the stone.

For a long moment there was only the thrashing of a second body behind him, as the pale stranger had entered the water too, and as she searched and scoured for the object—it looked as if the dog had earnestly drowned in his madness; then a groan began in the pit of his belly, and with a wretched belch, his mouth sprang open in the manner of a bear-trap: and thus, out tumbled the stone, shining as before.

A piece of a canine came with it, but that was a decent price to pay.

Kwetau practically vomited water as he wheezed to life, and lifted his head, then his torso, on trembling limbs. The stone had settled ahead of him, where it nested now on a weakened ledge.