Yarrow

Kneeling by the edge of a tide-pool, Yarrow carefully pokes a bright red sea-anemone with a piece of dried sea-grass, her dark eyes wide with concentration. She hears your footsteps on the crunching pebbles and looks up, a wide, bright smile breaking across her face as she brushes a stray lock of black hair behind her ear.

Oh! You’re finally awake! My brother said you might sleep right through the noon-tide, but I told him the smell of the peat-smoke would fetch you eventually. Come look at this—have you ever seen a creature so red? It looks like a fallen bit of the sunset tucked away in the rocks. I was just about to head back to the house to check on the seed-cakes; they're best when they're still hot enough to sting your fingers. Tell me, do they have sea-pools like this where you come from, or is the water different there?