“A boy was the accident of a moment, something as light and brief as a sun-glint on water- but a good trick was something to chuckle over for a hundred years.”
“The Potkoorok stirred. Its golden eyes gleamed. It slid like a ripple through the water, watching the boy. It waited while he explored the edges, examining brilliant green moss with air-bubbles trapped in it. It waited while he scooped up tiny slate-blue tadpoles and examined them and let them go. It waited till he stepped into deeper water; then it curled a coldness round his ankle, slithering like an eel.”