that wild wind still blows

To hear her name howled across the ocean was an odd and wondrous thing, Vervain gazing up to squint at the waves, like the sea itself had been calling her. It wasn't true, of course, and her lips parted in a soft 'o' of surprise at the sight of the wild and readheaded youth sprinting across the waves. It didn't take long, of course, for surprise to turn to delight, and she was grinning broadly as she reached up a hand to shield her eyes from the morning sun. "Melita!" she cried in return, half laughing around the girl's name, and she stepped back on bare feet as if she might need more of the beach to run upon. "What are you doing here?" It was a small world, to be sure. vervain where the wild things are