Sea Lion Shores the halls of our fathers

Szymon moved with uninhibited eagerness toward the shoreline where they’d met, plunging into the shallow water without hesitation. With Ragna at his side, his large, webbed paws cleaved the waves, soon bringing him to a point where he could not easily touch down upon the sand. “Mark your p-place,” he said quietly, his nervous energy swallowed up by his goddess. “We C-Cairns swim with eyes open; the sting of s-salt will soon fade.” He dipped his head below water, auriferous eyes blinking gingerly as he adjusted to the saltwater, and spotted a school of juvenile lingcod. “Bluefish,” he said, gesturing with a quirk of his muzzle as he blew seawater from his nostrils — politely angling his head away from Ragna to avoid spraying her in the face. “Look d-down there and t-t-tell me if you see them.”