Otatso Wetlands Without the night.

What were the odds?

And did he truly deserve such fortune?

Anselm steeled the instinct that told hm to rush Etienne and hug him; no, even in this private space his foolish pride turned his spine to steel. An inflexible cable ran the length of his body, now warm, now chilled -- though Anselm knew in his heart he was glad to see the seastrider.

How much older! And different! He studied the feather flapping in the wind, the scarcely seen pearl -- everything had changed and yet, these things remained the same. A totem from a past life.

Anselm choked back the emotion threatening to spill from his unguarded throat. He tried to laugh, but all that came out was a strangled grunt. And because he could not say what needed to be said (a thousand things, this list of unspoken words: I'm sorry. I'm an asshole. I shouldn't have treated you that way. I wish I didn't. You deserve better . I'm so glad you're here. I missed you. I need you --) he said something stupid: do you miss the sea?