41st of Fall, 516 A.V.
Mathias loved the morning. He loved the promise each new day held. And of course the whirlwind of possibilities that came with it intrigued and excited him. He rarely got tired of thinking 'what if'. It was one of the reasons that often saw him up at sunrise. He was curious by nature and driven to succeed. And thus it was that he walked the flotsam line almost each and every day up and down the beach from Treasure Point to Sharktooth Point in the north. Sometimes he found interesting things. Sometimes he just found the dusk melting away to the dawn and that was it. Each way was okay with him. Mathias was content with the variety and the newness of Syka.
He left footprints, a singular track down to Treasure and up to Sharkpoint. They never became more than a single man's steps unless someone joined him. Even when he crossed his own path on the way back north from heading south, there was still an awareness of being alone.
Once, and only once, a young girl had joined him. The ghost was so real, so lifelike, that Mathias couldn't help but see the resemblance between her and her earthly father. James had lost his daughter Veronica young, but Mathias knew more than James' ship bore her name. So too did the spirit that trailed James. Mathias, however, was no spiritist and nether was anyone else he seemed to know. So on that one stand-out day, he let it slide and had simply kept walking, pretending the child was not keeping pace even though she herself left no tracks.
And so it was a similar situation when Mathias came across the fierce looking woman standing on the beach staring out at the waves, her expression unreadable. Once he spotted her, he couldn't decide if she was real or like Veronica, something of a shadow of life lost too early. He didn't veer from his routine. Instead he kept walking, stooping occasionally to gather a treasure from the flotsam line and tuck it into he netted fabric bag he had hanging from his belt.
He waited until he was almost upon her and then stopped, offered her a smile, and said "Hello." It was then and only then he knew she was real. The wind, you see, had chosen that moment to pick up a lock of her hair and toss it. The breezes' sudden motion also brought the woman's scent to him. Clean. Earthen. She smelled like someone who belonged just where she stood.
Silently, after that simple initial greeting, Mathias waited for a response.
