<em>You know how they say no good deed goes unpunished, I guess we both did something recently that got slotted into the good deed department.</em><br/><br/>He paddled out until they were close to the first time they caught their waves. Turning his board to the shore he pulled up and sat astride it again. his face was serious, thoughtful as he considered his words. It was an easy two board lengths between them. He bobbed gently atop the surf before turning to look at her.<br/><br/><em>You helped out a young woman in a bad situation. I know this because the other night I got a woman out of a bad situation as well. Both of them had spirits watching them, and these spirits, they asked me to send you their thanks, you were able to do what they couldn't. I got mine to the hospital, to the care needed. By the way the spirit spoke, I think you were a little more direct.</em><br/><br/>His voice was casual as he spoke. Like everything else he did there was a relaxation to it, there was no need for histrionics, what good would they do. He was a shaman of the primal wild, a Thyrsus, sitting on a surfboard during high tide while talking to a very attractive Red Headed Werewolf. Somewhere, Warren Zevon rolled in his grave. Craig continued with honesty, he wasn't going to try much else.<br/><br/><em>They could not cross into what they called your territory, the beach I imagine is what they meant. The spirit who I helped asked me to send you their thanks. So I am doing that, and it gave me an excuse to surf after a very long night. </em><br/><br/>The last comment ended in a slightly sheepish smile, the guilty pleasure of being on the waves had been evident. It was a serious enough drive to still want to be on the waves considering the insanity of the moment.