She had released him to form the bubble and now stands poised beside him, bare feet apart and braced as she stares upward towards the surface.

No pursuers. Unless the Chihuelans caught where they landed and are good divers, they've gained some manner of protection.

. . . She begins to move the bubble to assure that. No good staying in the same place. Fish, large and small, peer at them curiously through the translucent sphere, too unaccustomed to human presence to be afraid.

The puddle that begins to form beneath one foot from his dripping clothes, accompanied by the rough gasp of his voice, reminds her that he's there -- and may not be quite as comfortable as she is. . . . Humans like to be dry, don't they? And warm.

". . . Sorry." The water tugs from his clothing, leaving him dry. Warmth is not so much of a possibility, but hopefully at least the dryness helps. "Are . . . you all right?"

As usual, she's not very good with actual question answering.