Oystercatcher Tide Pools Midwest indigo.

So she'd almost drowned in this giant lake. At least that was clear, unlike everything else about this place. This water. Calahan watched as the tri-toned wolf hacked up the brine. This lake scented...sharp. Unlike any other freshwater he'd known before. It didn't occur to him that this wasn't freshwater. How could it?

"Hey, moron! Over 'ere!" There was no malice in his greeting, just apparent bad manners. To the tawny rustler, it was simply a sure way of getting someone's attention. Not that the half drowned unfortunate likely had much to spare at the moment. Any better man would feel sympathy or concern, where Calahan felt none.