Potential is beautiful. And boundless in infants. Is that the appeal of spring? The promise of all the things to come in the buds, babies and unhatched eggs. Now it is all making sense.

Brienne laughs softly. The shoulders are a good place to hold. The cut of the suit makes them look a little more narrow. Mischief is bound to happen. From one woman or the other. Since Frea is so willing to be ready she goes again even whispering, "Three, two..." Down they go again and under. The waves sway. They must breathe and no one will be drowning today and so Brienne pushes Frea first.