"She really does," Greta says, sounding completely besotted. She's still awash with relief that Saoirse means to return. For how well-versed she considers herself in fairy tales, she's never been so happy to be wrong.

And with Thomas here, his arm curled around her, it takes a while for that glow to fade. But as the minutes wear on, a thread of that old anxiety starts to weave its way back into her thoughts. Just how long of a swim did she mean to take? She wouldn't linger that long, surely -- not knowing that Thomas was on his way, or how frightened Greta had been for those few awful minutes.

"Maybe she's lost track of time," Greta ventures, her tone light, but her heart pounding. "Maybe it feels different when you're, um... out there." She gestures vaguely at the water, then fists her hands in her lap.