Splashing now. And slipping. But still running as the cockroach rain showed no sign of abating, Inteachán moved into slightly deeper water. She stumbled a couple of times as the water lapped around her calves and filled both boots. The thought of wet socks was another thing Inteachán blocked from her mind as she focussed on her surroundings.
The water was cold. It was deeper. It was filling rapidly with cockroaches. But it was also moving. That was it!
The water was moving – although flowing would be a better term to use.
If the water is flowing, Inteachán reasoned, then it has to be flowing somewhere. If it is flowing somewhere then I need to follow the flow.
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