There were people swimming in the Red Tide. Rian watched them with interest and wondered. As a child I was taught never to dip even a digit in the crimson smear. But perhaps that is only an Old Wives' Tale.
The Red Tide is one of the few pieces of Life in which Rian cannot find Beauty. Tis dull, bloody, a poison drifting in the swells. And it stinks terribly, beyond description.

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