Sound carries well in water, but you hear nothing but the slightest hint of water wooshing as the Zhark slams into you. Without even thinking you turned towards it, spear in hand, the spear suddenly lurches back as though it struck into something; then bends and the pole snaps. Its immense weight slams you backwards; sending you reeling and forcing you to let go of your only defense. Your eyes sting from the sudden cloud of darkness. What is it? The Zhark's venom? Your venom? Your blood? The Zhark's blood? You can't tell. There's nothing to think about; only the instant instinct to dart away from the confusion; to find safety. You instinctly know which way is up, and which way is towards shore and the shallows, and that way is the way you go, without even opening your eyes and seeing how much of your flesh is missing.

Quickly, it becomes apparent none is. You come to the shallows and the shore; and you are still alive.