It seemed that she was alone on a tiny planet which brushed against a bejeweled velvet curtain. She indulged the dream, and when reality began to force itself upon her again she quickly slipped out of her clothes and judged the distance to the water below.
For a moment she stood there, arms raised, body poised, the moon painting her figure a rose pink. Then she dived.
The water was warm, caressing. She came up, tossed her head back to get the shoulder-length dark hair out of her eyes. And then she was certain she heard an exclamation.
Panic ran through her as it had earlier in the vale. She twisted and turned to look in every direction. Then a head bobbed up in front of her.
"A beautiful dive," he said. It was Al Wilson. "I was about to warn you and then I couldn't bear to spoil it."
She was treading water, confused, not knowing what to do.
"Do you come here often?" he asked.
"No. But you knew I would come soon. I was thinking about it when we flew over, and you knew."
"Is it so bad?"