It was only when the cold water closed over us that I realized Gawain had been laughing as we fell. I was outraged by his cavalier manner.
I was more indignant that, not only did I not die, I was utterly graceless in the cold water. I began to sink, despite my struggles to reach the surface. To my relief and disgust, Gawain seized me by the back of my chemise—much as one would seize a wet cat—and hauled me toward the light.
I came up sputtering, cold, embarrassed and flustered. I spied the merry sparkle in his eyes and could have spit sparks.
“Do not laugh at me!” I huffed. “There is nothing amusing about our predicament!”
“Trust me, it is easier the second time,” Gawain asserted with disgusting composure. His arms moved powerfully beneath the surface of the water and kept him afloat.
