8
- 8 -
Rodin’s head broke the water’s surface. He coughed, tasted mud and oil through the constant spray.
He kicked, couldn’t feel his feet. His arms throbbed with the cold. His chest ached, and Rodin spluttered again as he breathed in water, didn’t know if it was river or rain.
But he hadn’t drowned when Leopold’s boat capsized, and he wasn’t about to now. He kicked harder, pulled himself through the water, forced his head to remain free of the surface. His lips shook as he closed his mouth, tried to breathe through his nose.
Shapes loomed. Impossible to tell what was choppy water and what might be rock. He almost saw the boat, but a wave swamped him, and he swallowed more water.
At least the cold was numbing his senses. At least he could work his body now.
Then a shape waved. Cat
