Coconut Grove you will remember me.

Whatever skills the near-drowning had rattled out of her head, shellfish-snaring wasn't among them. She spent a few days gathering her strength at the tide pools, devouring oysters and lazing in the early spring sun.

But the time came to move, and after a while, she left that place behind (though keeping it in the back of her mind for safe-keeping, should she need a safe place to inhabit).

The beach gave way to strange trees, and Manea gazed up the trunks and their brown, drooping leaves—wait, no, there was greenery at the base of them all. Spring was, indeed, sprung, despite the lingering chill in the air.

And a silvery man there, too, idling on the sand.

Wary, Manea approached with a chuff and kept her distance, fixing him with a gimlet indigo stare.