Griffith could only smile at the antics of his friends.  He had crawled back inside his tent after giving Cassandra the matches as, unlike some others, he did not come wearing his swim trunks.  That situation, however, was easily remedied, and he was soon once more in the open air, this time more than suitable for the lake.  After dragging all the water he brought out of his tent—he needed all of the space he could get—he turned and ran for the lake.  He could see all everyone in there already and smiled.  By the time he reached the water’s edge that smile had spread into roaring laughter.  And then he leapt.

He wasn’t going to win any diving competitions any time soon, but Griffith managed it without hurting himself.  The water was cold, and it muffled light and sound.  He could see where others were by feet dangling below the surface and, in one case, a person’s entire back—Cassandra, if he recognized the swimsuit from his run out to the water.  [i]And what a fine sight it is.[/i]  It would, however, be rude to stare.  That and he had not taken a very large breath before plunging down into the water.  While he would be loath to leave the buoyant wonderland he found himself in, Griffith really did need to breath.

He wasn’t that far out, so the journey to the surface was short.  He took a deep breath, and dragged his hair away from where it stuck to his face.  The lake was as good as ever it was.