Moonspear West side story

"I get that," Ness agreed, nodding lightly as he responded. "I see the beach as more of a spot I want to visit than live on. I really can't wait to see the place when it's warmer out— I suspect it's more pleasant in the heat. I've only seen cold shores before." Massive stretches of ice, and water that would kill you if you lingered in it a second too long. The beach would be a stark exchange from that. And just as she was comparing them in her head, the silver boy asked her about it, drawing her copper eye to his grinning face. "I'm from the tundra. Some mountains much smaller than these, and ridiculously far from here, but not a place you really wanna grow up."

She paused, hitching some harsher feelings on her breath so that she wouldn't make it seem like her childhood had been despotic. "Don't get me wrong— the place toughened me up like I doubt anywhere else could, and I'm thankful for that," Ness admitted, her tail switching back and forth thoughtfully like a cat. "But the place was always cold and almost just as bare. If you weren't freezing to death, then you were starving to death. Or you were killed by something hungrier than you. That was pretty much it. I left as soon as I could hunt properly on my own. I knew there was something better out there."

Eyes, twinkling and hopeful, turned out on the horizon again. "I've definitely found something better."