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Private for Pripyat. Quartz Shoreline. SSWM: 202.
Fiachra had decided to explore. If she was going to live in this place, she ought to know what was around. The first place to visit was the beach down from Anathema's claim. She had yet to travel this way yet, and she wanted a little peace anyway. The beach was pretty in the winter, ice floating here and there like little rafts in the frigid waters. The sand was cold and frozen, and she wished that she had worn her boots. Ah, well, what could she do now? She was not going home just for boots. No, not at all. The discomfort was almost nice.
Sitting on an iced over rock, she was thankful for her ragged jeans. She tugged her torn black coat tightly around herself and listened to the sounds of water and wildlife. It was peaceful here, a welcome break from the activity of the populated areas. She ran into others at every turn, and she just wanted some time to be alone and think. Think about what, she wasn't sure. But the option was pleasant to have, nonetheless.
The sun set slowly over the water, and for a moment, she almost missed home. Almost, but not quite.