We’re too slow. I feel it like the sudden inflation of a kite when I was a child. The shark is here, in the cauldron, and in this tight space I can feel her weight in the water, the mass of her body and the drag of her slipstream as she moves, twitching her way along to keep freshness in her gills. Freshness, and of course, blood. She must be getting very high indeed, full of hunting hormones and instincts.