Wheeling Gull Isle All this sand but only one grain changed me

Maegi was headed to bed. She spent most of her time by the surf, desperately gulping down the cool air to keep the nausea at bay. Her den was deeper in the territory, though. She loved her husband, his cozy, soothing presence—but she was also cranky as hell these days, as well as constantly hot and bloated. . .

All that said, she wasn't so keen on curling up beside another warm body to sweat out a sleepless night.

Movement nearby caught her attention, and she froze, unconsciously holding her breath before the mottled form emerged in the dim light. Ah, him. She'd seen his arrival, albeit from a distance, and glimpses here and there had jogged her memory.

I thought you seemed familiar, she greeted him without preamble. She was easy to spot even in low light (a blessing and a curse). Mal, right? It's been some time.

His face was associated with the pungent aroma of the hot springs. Had they met there?