Carefully, Oyonale walked into the water.
She would not spoil this moment, almost as important to her as the birth
of her first calf. The water was cold, but bearable. She beckoned the others to come. One
by one, the three survivors of the expedition entered the liquid element. Voisine started
kicking, splashing Grimbêche, who in turn pushed Tuyautée. The youngsters
played and frolicked about for a while, until Oyonale called them to order. Let us have a
thought for Sublime, she reminded them. Sublime had died during
the trip, hit by a dairy truck (from their own dairy company,
how sadly ironic) on a secondary road. Oyonale let pass one long minute of silence, then
silently proceeded to confront the waves. She was terrified by the vastness
of the sea. For years, the nearest hedge had been her unique
horizon. She continued to advance, until she felt the sand
rolling under her hooves. She lost her footing, and had to swim for the first time in her
life, her bulk ensuring a perfect buoyancy, as Sublime, always a compulsive
reader, had told them. She threw a backward glance and saw her juniors hopping happily
in the shallows, excited like heifers. Oyonale found she was a natural swimmer. She was really enjoying it, it was easy, it was so great,
and all of a sudden, an incredible force turned her upside down,
pulling her down into the gloom below. She panicked, swallowed large mouthfuls of salted water, surfaced, reopened her
eyes in time to see the long silver-plated fuselage of a dolphin
describe a graceful arc in the sky, and fall down in a second cataclysm, which caused her to go under again for a few seconds. In
front of the juniors, what a shame, she thought. Having regained her balance,
she paddled back to the shore where the languid, sand-covered,
Grimbêche, Tuyautée and Voisine awaited her. Under their long lovely lashes, their usual respectfulness was now tainted with