Coconut Grove We were staying in Paris.

the jewel had been there minutes before to steep in the brine, with a wet path linking her current position to a shallow point.
the gull's cry draws her eye; tugging at a knot of fur along her haunch, pausing momentarily to survey the man when he catches in her eye. she licks her lips.
he is a large thing; older than the last, and strong.
the sea licks at his heels.
jawahir hums a welcoming note to him, loud enough to be heard over the tide.