It was cool, but not cold, and the wind
smelled more strongly of coalface than ever. "He's in there," Alan
said. He heard the goblin scamper away. His words echoed over the pool
around the corner. "Come on." Her fingers were very cool. They walked in
a slow, measured step, like a king and queen of elfland going for a walk
in the woods.
He stopped them at the pool's edge. There was almost no light here, but
Alan could make out the smooth surface of his father's pool.
"Now what?" she whispered, the hissing of her words susurrating over the
pool's surface.
"We can only talk to him from the center," he whispered. "We have to
wade in."
"I can't go home with wet clothes," she whispered.
"You don't wear clothes," he said. He let go of her hand and began to
unzip his snowsuit.
And so they stripped, there on his father's shore. She was luminous in
the dark, a pale girl-shape picked out in the ripples of the pool,
skinny, with her arms crossed in front of her chest. Even though he knew
she couldn't see him, he was self-conscious in his nudity, and he
stepped into the pool as soon as he was naked.
"Wait," she said, sounding panicked. "Don't leave me!"
So he held out his hand for her, and then, realizing that she couldn't
see it, he stepped out of the pool and took her hand, brushing her small
breast as he did so. He barely registered the contact, though she
startled and nearly fell over.
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