Storm a' brewing (open)

Sam shrieked and nearly took a swan dive off the edge of the cliff she had been
prancing along so nimbly. Someone had managed to creep up close to her, she
was normally so attentive, but the approaching storm had absorbed her
attention. Teetering a moment, she hastily takes a step from the drop-off and
turns to face her intruder.

With a suspicious glance, she eyes the boy lounging against a rock nearby. He
doesn't seem to mind heights, comfortable as he is on the terrain. That earned
him a grudging bit of respect from Sam. The boy looked familiar, maybe she
had passed him in the school yard, he couldn't be much older than she. His
hair was nearly the same color, and for some unknown reason that gave her the
slightest bit of comfort, enough to where she relaxed a little.

"It's going." She replied to his earlier question. Now the first drops of rain were
beginning to trickle free from the overhung sky and landed with wet bursts on
her skin. She squinted at the boy as one fat droplet landed on her nose. A long
moment passed and he made no move to run for shelter. "Well…shouldn't you
be heading home? It's going to storm, y'know."

Sam crossed her arms indignantly over her chest, "I am an excellent
swimmer." Her freckled nose wrinkled as the ominous growl of thunder stirred
the still air. The silence continued so long that she finally gave up with a resigned
sigh and flopped herself down, legs dangling over the cliff edge. "Alright, Skip.
Seeing as it doesn't look like I'm getting rid of you anytime soon. I'm Sam. What
are you doing out here? Not many people come this far out on the cliffs."

It was true. Sam came out this way precisely for the reason that no one else
bothered. It was a good hour hike back into the village, and there was no visible
path down to the pale crescent of sand and the frothy water's edge far below.
"Riki's down there, " She mumbled, nodding towards the trajectory of the rock.
"How would you like a rock konkin' you on the head while you were just minding
your own business and swimming around?"

Sam pushed at the salt-water matted curls that blew across the side of her
face and tucked them securely back behind one ear while she mulled over the
question. The hoarse cry of a gull broke the quiet, and thunder rumbled again,
closer this time.

"Your point? Your point?! She huffed and glared at him belligerently,
her grey eyes nearly melding into the tempestuous color of the clouds that are
scudding ever closer. A crackle of lightning punctuated her outburst. "No one
owns this part of the coast. I've been coming here for…well…years! I know
these cliffs like a…" Her thin face screws up in thought as she searches for an
appropriate comparison. Coming up blank, she squints at the boy narrowly.

Is he laughing at me?

She scuffed a grubby foot along the ground, suddenly self-conscious. Sam
wasn't accustomed to talking with people, especially not boys. This was so
much more trouble than her usual days spent in the water. For a brief moment it
reminded her of fishing with Brooke, her older brother. They never talked this
much either, though. Silence between them had been comfortable, and one of
Brooke's looks spoke more than all the chatter from most folks.

Sam shrugged and tamped the memories back down where they belonged.

Sam considered the question for a moment, and then an impish grin lit her face
and she waggled her eyebrows at Skip. "Race you to the water!" She waited a
half second until the boy's foot hit the path that wound back towards the
village before she turned. One bound brought her to the edge of the cliff, and
the next sent her hurtling into empty space.

The fall was exhilarating and terrifying at once. wind tore past her ears in nearly
painful shrieks. She felt her stomach plummet and then leap back up, trying to
claw its way out her throat. Sam screamed, one long, piercing sound of pure
glee. With her head thrown back and hair streaming out behind her like the
blazing tail of a comet, she plunged downwards. The last second saw her tuck
into a compact ball before striking the surface of the water.

Icy needles jabbed at her nose, mouth, ears, eyeballs…the water was frigid this
time of year. The shock of it was enough to have drive the air from her lungs
and send her lunging for the surface. With a spluttering gasp, she found the
surface, and paused a moment, treading water. The waves were cresting higher,
stirred by the strong gusts of approaching stormwind. One crest caught Sam
full in the face and pressed her back beneath the surface. Cliff jumping into the
teeth of a storm was not the smartest thing she had ever done, but a lifetime
spent in these waters and dodging these rocks saw her through. She turned
with habitual ease and kicked out strongly. Her feet came into lashing contact
with an approaching rock, and she rebounded off it towards air once again.

She dragged in a deep lung-full and then dove down, down… there was no
visibility, water black as night closed around her. Down here she wouldn't be
tossed and smashed by the surf, and it was a small matter to cut through the
distance. Her whip-strong legs sliced in clean strokes that pushed her ever
further from the dangerous rocks. Lungs conditioned by years of diving for
shellfish made the most of the one breath she had taken. Her heart beat slow
and even, pushing the oxygen out to her brain and muscles. When she began to
feel light-headed, Sam drove herself to the surface.

A quick scan of the horizon showed the beach to be a ten minute swim just east
of her, and Sam struck out again for shore.