A riotous slosh sounded in an alcove to his left and captured his attention. Inch by inch, he guided Gypsy closer to the rocky cliff, afraid of what he might find there. He thought perhaps a fish or some other sea creature had washed ashore, unable to make its way back out to sea.
As he stole closer, he made out the form, but it was not a fish or any other animal he had ever seen wash up on the beach before.
Wrapped in wispy white fabric that rippled in the wind, a ghostly female figure began to solidify in his sight. Dawson pulled Gypsy to a standstill. It reminded him of mermaid stories he had heard as a child, but this was no mermaid. This was an apparition, floating along on the breeze.
The fabric she wore was so thin he could make out the supple curves of her breasts, his eyes traveling down over her full hips, and the long slender legs that carried her to the water’s edge.
Dawson rubbed his eyes with his fists. Surely, the moonlight had deceived him.
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