While barely glancing back, I stepped off into the water with Willie. It was cold, it was salty, it was about what you’d expect stepping into the North Pacific in the early spring. Numbing. It took me a minute to realize all that. After all, I was in the water with a talking orca. Most surprising, however, was my ability to hold my breath for quite some time. Well, like the whole rest of the time this went on.

Willie circled me a couple of times, as if to see if I was ok, and to, I suppose, get a better look. He spoke again, and while his voice was distorted, he could still be understood.

“You’ve conquered your fear quite quickly, I see.” Willie said, “Let us hope this is a good first swim into a new world.”

“So,” I said, without even considering the consequence of opening my mouth and talking underwater, “you’ve got me in your world. What do you want of me?”

“Well, it’s about your hunting.” Willie said, a sadness in his deep tuba-tones. “You know, you’re hard to catch. Usually.” Then he ate me.