Two Eyes Cenote Dear gravity, you held me down in this starless city

A creature of the sea hardly belonged in a place like this. Ptolemy wrinkled his nose in distaste as he lifted it to test the air for any hint of water nearby. A touch of greenery on the breeze, perhaps, but what stood out to him was the scent of a girl.

He followed. His slinking gait slowed to a halt when his eyes touched the pale figure, and from a distance he studied her. Pretty thing, all alone, a daywalker in soft sun tones. His mother had harbored such a woman once; he'd never met her, but had heard the tale of how The Listener had tried and failed to make a druid of an unbeliever. Studying the girl in the distance, here and now, Ptolemy wondered. He wondered if he might succeed where mother had failed.

For now he only watched.