It had gotten to be too much to handle, coming here with his father. Too many good memories that would get tainted by the bad memories of a hospital, a funeral, a grave. And then there were werewolves and darach and god knows what else to deal with, and there didn't ever really seem to be a lot of time to go to the beach. The ocean, or whatever.

But this year, when he was eighteen and he was thinking about whether he should leave to go to school or stay and be here, he had the time. A bit of calm and he could come to the water. Think. Clear his head.