of the wind & the waves & the caves;
He can’t begrudge her answer, not when it was true, and he would have said much the same thing (only ruder, probably).
But this is not the time for exploring, unless she wanted to discover what it was to have angry men with rusty swords convincing her that she’d seen nothing, nothing at all. Caspian sticks close beside her, one ear tuned to the flapping of her scarf in the breeze off the water and the other turned down the beach, straining for the sound of voices or hooves against the stand or stone.
“It does,” he says begrudgingly, then is struck by inspiration and shrugs a shoulder cavalierly. “Though I’ve already picked this cove clean of anything worthwhile. The next one over, now-” he raises a brow at her, as though to suggest that there are great riches there, just out of view around the next jut of cliffside. ”I think I saw a selkie there, once.” Now he squints toward the breakers, as if looking for a seal now, though he watches her from his peripheral vision, hoping she takes the bait.
Just then a bat swoops overhead, tracing an erratic pattern over the cove. They’re coming, Benvolio’s voice echoes high and strained in his mind. They’re early, he thinks, disbelieving, looking back over his shoulder - and sure enough, there on the dimming horizon are figures, dark against the sand, distant but growing larger.
Caspian curses beneath his breath, then jerks his attention back to the girl, silently begging her to move on before trouble finds them both.
@
