Wheeling Gull Isle there's no pride in sharing scars to prove it

She was all fire and stone, and earth and wonder, and Ixchel wanted nothing more than to know her deeply. If she had known of the affection her brother felt for this girl-from-the-mountains, she would have understood the connection immediately. The Cortens were wolves of the sea -- forever malleable and shifting -- so it made sense under the guise of "opposites attract" that they would find love in the most immovable of places. For while you could never swim twice in the same waters, the paths of peaks were truly knowable, and immortal.

Ixchel could chase the long-legged warrior forever; her own stocky build churning as she gave wild chase to the fleeing woman. A throaty laugh took away her breath, eyes dancing as she tracked her quarry through the trees, and surged after her like a diamond-tipped spear. What Ixchel lacked in stride, she made up for in reflex, making a mad dash to cut a different path and cut off Maera's unpredictable line of travel.