One shark rose up, slow and smooth and smiling.

Mako Sharks do not talk. But Wind found he could listen, and hear in his imagination the soft sweet thing this one would have said:

Poor boy. Climb on my back. I'll carry you home.

Wind almost did. Then he remembered Sophie. Watch and think.

He looked hard at the smiling shark. At its eyes. They were not looking at him. They were looking at how much of him there was to eat.

"No, thank you," said Wind, and stayed on the rocky beach.