Oystercatcher Tide Pools rock lobster

she does not intuit the strange sound as another tongue. to her unfamiliar ears it sounds like a breathy noise of agreement, not worth dwelling on as he explains his position, similarly precarious to her. the woman hmms, her gaze briefly flickering to their surrounds, as if to guess what direction coconut grove lies. the coast is largely unfamiliar to her, having spent most of her time in the teekons buried inland.

(without permission the image of her old shrine flickers into her mind, buried deep in a forest far away. is it still there? has it been trampled by secular paws, unaware of its fragile meaning?)

govinda has returned to the pool when she looks back, seemingly burdened by his confession. "i've no family either," hamartia confides, unsure if her urge is to commiserate, to try and pull him back to that tentative smile, or if it is just an honest ommission. there is something about govinda she ... relates to, perhaps. after a pause hamartia extends her snout forward, the elegant line of her neck arched down to join in nosing for the shelled creatures. at length she feels something blunt against her nose and delicately grasps it, pulling a small oyster from the water. 

she places it at his feet and grins. "now what?"