The Sentinels after delacroix

he sees a deer, she sees a seal! whateva! they dont get to eat it anyway.

The water pulled him back an inch or two but he did not know. The side of his head smarted with pain, and briefly he forgot all about the prey  he had just been trying to succumb. What he knew was simple: that the stars were suddenly not in their place within the sky, but down here, with him; that his head was aching greatly enough so that he squinted; that he was soaking in salt, and lastly, that a white figure was materializing before him. The hunt was forgotten as he beheld her silhouette, this perfect creature. The light caught upon her and illuminated, and she was positively glowing.

Of course, he was having a bit of a moment, because of his injury. Renoir did not know this. He saw her, saw the face of the girl, saw his sister, felt his love for one and the other and the melding of it, and gasped; his squinted eyes opened and he stared up at her fondly, too fondly perhaps, and then a fresh wave came close to part them. He felt himself lifting slightly because of the sea - or perhaps because of her magnetism - and was glad to be closer. The sea deposited him upon the bank while it swept the half-dead animal out in to the depths to fade away.

She moved to touch him again, to test his pulse, and he smiled up at her. M..net.. he slurred the name, and he lay upon the wet sand for a moment just basking in her brilliance.