[There's a channel there, a little rivulet of a waterway running between them - narrow usually, flooded now. She opens to him (or goes looking or his stricken mind goes looking for something familiar) and he presses into her like water filling a container. Fear seeks fear and Carata's soothing hand hasn't yet swayed him from a certain inclination to shred himself in the effort to find it.
He shakes, sea salt flecks and foaming sweat lather like an animal trying to swim in a tide current with nothing in the way of relief - no shore to swim to, no sandy tributary bed to sink a foot into. Nothing.
That's what he's scared of. Nothing. Isn't she? What could be worse than that?]
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He shakes, sea salt flecks and foaming sweat lather like an animal trying to swim in a tide current with nothing in the way of relief - no shore to swim to, no sandy tributary bed to sink a foot into. Nothing.
That's what he's scared of. Nothing. Isn't she? What could be worse than that?]