#sandrabarrow

The Beach was a little overwhelming for someone who'd seen all of ten people in the previous year, and the majority of those had been people raiding her camp. Now Harry was surrounded by tens of people, every day, all day long. Even at nighttime they were up, walking around, shagging, whatever, they were a riot. During the day it was nice to get away from the crowd. Harry had found herself a pleasant spot within the jungle shadow.

There was a vein of clay under the soil layer. Harry pulled some to the surface and started kneading a ball in her hands. She'd make a bowl, set it by the edge of a fire and see if the clay fired well. Harry pushed her thumbs into the center of the ball and then started squeezing the clay between her finger and thumb knuckles. A mindless task, but one that helped ground Harry, ironically helping her take her mind off of the headache of all the vibrations of the beach.

There was a loud snap of a twig behind her, and Harry startled, whipping around to the noise. She'd been so befuddled by the cacophony of the beach that she'd ignored the vibrations from behind her. Harry zoned in on the jungle, heart in her throat as she reached for the knife at her hip...

A woman emerged from the jungle, someone Harry had seen before. S... something. She had never been good at names. Harry hummed and dropped her hand from her knife, a little uneasy that S had been able to sneak up on her. "You came back," Harry mused, picking up her pinch pot from where she'd dropped it. When they’d met in the jungle Harry offered to point her in the right direction of the beach. S hadn't wanted anything to do with the beach. Harry hadn’t wanted anything to do with the beach either. Yet here they both were.