Stavanger Bay the thief and the moon

he released her, and though dalia desperately wanted to lie in the sand and wallow in failure... she raised herself. the freckled ocean girl, sand coating her cheek, stared at the ground at ford's feet. he asked her a question, in a tone that didn't strike her as angry -- which was good. she was quiet a minute, trying to decide if 'literally anything' was an appropriate answer. instead, meekly, she said, "fight... back?" slowly, her gaze raised to his striking features, brow furrowed as she tried to decipher what the right answer was. instinct said protect your throat -- instinct said duck away -- but dalia did not account for all that followed. "maybe -- keep my head up?"