Dragoncrest Cliffs a woman young and old

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just as mireille was bound to a flash of anger, ready to leap past the salt-feathered woman into the night for another row, her mother's voice intercepted. the growl that had been born in her throat died an easy death.
when the ruby joined them, the obsidian stepped away, sparing a hot look for the shoreline. did all men need to have the final word? 
water, in the form of freshwater moss wrapped in layers. she held it out with her teeth for the stranger, emerald eyes flickering to her crooning mother.
would she be all right?