Otter Creek Bennu

down the mountainside to the fresh water. if any had asked, it was an extended patrol. a scouting trip. tierra had mentioned something about playing hookie once, and while that was not exactly what she was doing, perhaps it fit.

but here was a man.

not of mereo, not of any place she knew directly. sloshing in the cold water like a swimmer. emerging with the build of a worker. perhaps she gazed too long upon him to pick apart these things. either way —

heading into the bit-too-cold-to-swim season, aren't we?