The Heartwood well, you were laid in verse

The girl might have thought him a ghost, were it not for the burst of sunfire at his nape. A phantom lit by flame; antithesis to herself if ever there was one, seaside shadow that she was. Even now her furs glistened in the sun with salt-crust, glossy and thick from a diet of fish. She watched the boy step from the trees, ocean eyes bright.

He carried the scent of death with him. Her tufted ears fell against her skull. For a moment Seelie thought to turn away, to flee before he ever saw her. Only for a moment. Her curiosity rebounded in a snap, flaring a new; suppose he was a ghost after all? Seelie lifted her chin and chuffed quietly to draw his attention, before she could talk herself out of it entirely. Her eyes never once left the boy.