After being in the water for what felt like hours, we finally got to land. Somewhere far from the fire and all the smoke and the screaming. The air here was clean, cold, and still. It felt like a different planet.
Paramedics and pack enforcers swarmed the bank, wrapping people in foil blankets, checking for injuries. The kids' parents found them, and the sounds of tearful reunions filled the night, sobbing, laughter, tight hugs and murmured prayers of thanks. They hugged the children, then they hugged me, their faces wet with tears as they thanked me for risking my life to save their pups.
I just nodded, my throat too tight to speak. I hadn't done anything special. I'd just followed them into the water.
Now, wrapped in a thin, scratchy towel from the rescue supplies, I sat quietly on the open tailgate of an emergency vehicle, watching.
