The cold water was wonderful. It was almost painfully sharp against her skin, like a thousand tiny knives, but it made her feel wonderfully, magically alive. It was pure. It was clean. When she came up for air she laughed, practically giddy, the chill night air a glorious warmth compared to the water, and dove again. It was too dark to see anything but that scarcely mattered. She felt inhuman, but for the first time it was a good thing. She felt like a faerie creature, one with the moon and the water.
When next she came up and heard a shout in the distance, she ducked quickly under the pier, looking around. Her heart was pounding but not with fear. When she recognised the voice she nearly laughed again, but the cold made it just a little difficult to breathe. "Ron," she called out from her hiding place under his feet. "Don't yell. It's just me."