[hr][hr]It had become familiar, this feeling, ironically so much like waking up. When Quinn opened her eyes that night, she was there again, laying on the boat atop the spread-out towels. The sky was pale blue, darkness receding from the edges eclipsed by the distant forests. Beyond the lake’s cliff-faced rim, a warm orange light was beginning to rise. Though the sun itself wasn’t quite visible yet, it was reflected there in the water, surrounding the boat like a glowing, red-orange pond. 

It was at once pleasantly quiet, but if she listened, Quinn could hear the sounds of people on Hovvi’s shore, see little dots of them scattered about the harbor and the beach. Too far for detail, too far to have been heard, really, but there it was anyway. The shadows of Dahlia and Safie laughed and chatted out by the buoy. 

Behind her, there was a slight [i]whooshing[/i] sound, and a distant splash. 

[color=black]Quinnlash[/color] was sat on the railing, fishing pole in her hands. The line was cast out far, though no farther than Quinn could remember having sent her own that day. 

Even in the burgeoning daylight she looked gloomy, darkened by shadows cast from nowhere, as if it were still night for her. The only exceptions were here eyes, which were no blacker or lighter than they ever were, and the horns on her head. They’d grown again, ever so slightly, and had begun to branch at their tips. Like the rest of her, they were unaffected by the sun. Instead, they caught moonlight that wasn’t there, and glinted and shimmered like polished white gold.

She glanced sidelong at Quinn. Her knees came up, tucked in close to her chest, and though it should have thrown her wildly off balance back onto the deck, she just hovered there, only tangentially touching the railing. 

“[color=black]You didn’t do it…[/color]” she grumbled. “[color=black]You didn’t kill her.[/color]”