Chapter NineThe crocodile was all wrong. It was too big, for a start—fifteen feet at least—and the water curved around its blunt snout as if it was a canoe. It was too fast for me to outrun. I saw flashes of silver and steel through the water—real silver and real steel, nailed onto the crocodile’s back. That explained how it had survived in the absolute wrong end of the continent. It also explained why I was not going to survive the next few minutes.
Matilda crouched in the water and put up her fists. She set her feet apart, like a boxer. Like she actually expected to remain standing.
If she was going to fight, then so was I. After all, who would I rather die with? I stood and raised my own small hands against the monster.
Something splashed into the water, and it wasn’t us and it wasn’
