Redhawk Caldera rosebowl

A fisherwoman she was indeed, he could see the way she lit up when she spoke of being near the water, whether it was for fishing or swimming. ”Have you been out to the coast, or do you prefer lakes like this one?” he asked.

 For whatever reason, the shoreline and ocean seemed to call to women- to those who lived in Sapphique, but to Fennec and Blueberry as well. His own mother had made a pilgrimage to die in the sand. He assumed it had a lure he might never truly understand; perhaps the wild ocean spoke a language unique and special, made for women.

When she looked at him, he could feel his scars heat up. It felt like the obvious answer was to admit he’d once trained as a warrior. But he’d shed that identity. ”I’m good with kids,” he said. It was probably his best skill. ”But fer huntin’, I think I’m more useful huntin’ deer with the pack. Less…finesse, like what you had, more teamwork and strength.” He said.