When Erroe reached the edge of the lake inside the cave, it was very dark. She could barely see the light glancing off the water's surface, with her own heightened senses. Sliding gracefully into the icy liquid, she started swimming. She focused on perfect form, on the sound of her slight arms slicing the water, the weight of her clothes as they attempted to drag her down.
She swam farther and farther, forgetting her problems. It seemed like forever that she swam before reaching the other side, stopping suddenly at a smooth wall. Now black as pitch, it was silent. Not an echo of an echo reverberated back this far. She dove, deeper and deeper, but never touched the bottom.
Sighing as she surfaced, Erroe flipped to her back, fully enjoying her little swim. The Lycan and the others felt so far away, and she relaxed, taking a slow backstroke to the shore.