With the stroke of the oars.

KILLIAN

The kind other seemed to realize quickly the reservations Killian had about discussing the switch, and offered genuine sympathy and understanding. He wasn't alone in this, other's had gone through it too. It was comforting to feel understood. "It's alright, it's not the worst thing that could've happened I guess," he replied with a grimace, unsure of how much be believed himself in that statement.

What took him? No, he didn't remember anything taking him per say. The last sight he'd had of his world was the tall and vibrant wheat grass swaying ahead of him and whipping at his ankles. And then the water. "Yeah, I was running through a field, and I stepped in a puddle except I went through it, and all of a sudden I was in the middle of the woods, covered in water," he said. That was how it happened, though out loud it sounded rather silly. Like the beginning of a fairy tale. Some fairy tale this was.

Are's story involved an oar, and something called Ägir. "You got hit with an oar and woke up here?" he asked, eyebrows raised. Somehow this story might've been even worse than his, for at least Killian had been conscious when he'd arrived.

baby baby don’t be so shy
rock children hold your heads up high