Sequoia Coast ﹙ꕥ﹚Called to the Devil and the Devil did come

Weightlessness possessed her as she surrendered to the waves, her lungs filling with air to keep her buoyant. Her blond and white frame bobbed amid the waves for a time as she paddled, slender limbs propelling her at a pace that was deliberately slow. Sorcha had no interest in delving into the open sea quite yet, but she enjoyed the precipice of freedom as she lingered so close to safety, keeping certain rescue at hand if the waves showed desire to swallow her up.

As her confidence grew, she relaxed; the woman allowed the tension of uncertainty to melt from her muscles as she handed over agency to the universe at large. She trusted it to deliver her where she ought to be, and on this eve, it appeared to have something curious in store for her.

Sorcha's eyes followed the trajectory of a sea bird as it soared overhead, a fish clutched in its taloned feet. It headed for shore with its prize and, as her gaze landed on the beach she had left behind, she took note of a figure. She grew more alert, analyzing the dark and not-so-distant other. They had not been there when she disembarked from the water's edge, but they were now.

For a beat, she did not call out to them or take her eyes off them - clearly sizing them up and gauging her risks. "Hello," she cast her voice to them, an Irish lilt accompanying it. Would they be friend or foe?