She didn’t live in town. The island population, a little under five hundred residents, was limited mostly to farmers and fishers. The moment Davie saw her sitting on the sand, looking out to sea with her knees pulled under her chin, he knew she didn’t belong.

There was something unusual in her quietness and poise. Something in her eyes was strange and deep, wild and unafraid like the sea itself. Davie was a little afraid of her. But even though he was afraid, it comforted him somehow to see her every morning. People gossiped about her but he never listened to what they said. There was a mystery about that young woman he was satisfied to solve himself.

Continue reading at Wallie’s Wentletrap