Gilded Bay It's the heat that drives the light

A plume of white escapes from her nose as she exhales sharply, the glare of her murkwater eye fixed upon him.  He has survived the trials of the ocean and come out the other side; some part of her is impressed.  He could have been her son, if he'd been scarcely younger, if she'd ever had more than one child.
Her thin features raise, chin pointed to the sky as she regards him still.  If she could convince him, he'd make a fine addition to their rank.  My plateau, she punctuates, my bay.  If he had more than two rocks to rub together, he could connect the dots on his own.
I could help you.