Greatwater Lake Was a shooter with the law

She probably kept that secret!

Her wet coat glistened as she began wading deeper into the pool. With her fur slicked around her sides, one could make out how truly slight Psamathe was—a twig, more or less. She still retained the look of a yearling, even though her words made her sound much older and wiser. She, of course, didn't notice these things about herself as she sank up to her shoulders in the lake. Even in the dim light, the willowy female could make out the shadow of fish flitting beneath the surface.

Before she could dart under to catch one, the prickly sensation of someone watching her. Turning her head, the svelte Nereides could just barely make out the grey gradient of Greyjoy's coat. She syared suspiciously back at him through a single narrowed eye, as though daring him to take some action against her. He was a hoplite, though, and sworn to Aktaiê, so despite her mistrust, Psamathe eventually had to admit to herself that he was no danger.

“You're staring,” she called curtly across the distance.