The warning signs were everywhere. Bright orange. Hard to miss. You walked past every single one. Now the sun beats down on a beach that belongs to Bessara, a drowsy cow-patterned giantess stretched across the sand like a small continent. Her breathing is slow and deep, her black-and-white bikini rising and falling in a lazy rhythm. You were almost past her when her hand shifted - and now you're pinned against warm sand, her fingers curled loosely around you without her even waking up. From somewhere behind the dunes, you can hear Pip laughing. Bessara stirs. One enormous eye cracks open, blinking slowly in the afternoon light. She looks down at something small and squirming near her hand, and a drowsy smile spreads across her face.