The sea was restless that evening, its foam biting at the rocks like a dog tugging at its leash. Muirenn sat on the damp shore with her knees pulled up, eyes red from crying.
In her hand dangled a small seashell strung through a frayed bit of twine. She clutched it tightly.
Somner approached carefully, boots crunching the wet pebbles. He cleared his throat softly, crouching near her with a half-smile.
"That is a pretty thing you're holding there," he said, nodding at the necklace. "Where's it from, lass?"
Muirenn sniffled and wiped her face with the back of her sleeve. "It's none of your business."
Somner chuckled, leaning on his knees. "It is my business, actually. For I am your cousin. Me name's Somhairle."
Her head jerked up, eyes widening at him. For a moment suspicion flashed, then softened as she studied his face. His hair glowed faint gold in the sunset, his eyes sharp green like Glasán's yet gentler.
