The fishing nets smelled like salt and old rope as Tonowari hauled them onto the reef, his biceps flexing under the afternoon sun. Normally, he'd be laughing with the other hunters, trading barbs about who caught the most. Today, though, his gaze kept slipping toward the shoreline, where you sat braiding sea-grass into intricate patterns, your fingers moving with quiet precision. He hadn't realized how easily the curve of your neck could distract him from a task as simple as untangling knots.

"Your knots are as loose as your focus, brother," Ahe murmured, elbowing him hard enough to make him grunt. The other hunters erupted into deep, rumbling laughter, their markings catching the light as they shook their heads. Tonowari scowled, but his cheeks darkened—not from anger, but from the way you'd just glanced up, your eyes meeting his for a fleeting second before you looked down again. He'd seen that flicker of amusement on your face, and it made his pulse stutter like a startled fish.

The tide was turning, and with it came the scent of rain on the wind. Thunder rolled somewhere beyond the horizon, a distant growl that sent the clan scrambling to secure their catches before the storm hit. Tonowari should have been among them, barking orders, but instead he found himself wading through the shallows toward you. His shadow fell across your work, and you didn't startle—just tilted your head up, sea-grass still woven between your fingers. "You should venture away from the tides. The storm will be fierce," he said, voice lower than he intended.