Dragoncrest Cliffs The bottle stench may be here to stay

I'm cool to wing it!

She'd finished her song before she caught sight of her mother, but Rosalyn was already striding down the beach toward her by the time Chacal caught sight of her. How loudly had she been singing? Was there a chance she'd been heard? Self-conscious, she began to meander along a ridge of sand, rocks and other ocean jetsam left behind by the tides as though to make it seem like she'd come down here for a purpose. She pawed at a strand of kelp that had begun to harden in the daylight, all the while keeping one ear flicked toward her mother as she approached. In the corner of her eye, she watched as her mother sat down. A conversation was inevitable; and she felt the pressure weighing down upon her. 

The question made her lips pull tight; she'd been heard. The tone of her mother's voice was soft and gracious; she felt as though she was being complimented, but she was a bit too flustered to accept it with much finesse. She swallowed hard, and nodded.