Shimmering Sands the inner claims i hadn't breadth to shake

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Amoxtli exhaled gently at the soft nuzzle of her nose against his neck. There was familiarity there; her small form seemed to fit closely to his own. Somehow, the manners in which the two sheepdogs behaved was founded upon simplicity. Though they shared blood, the two were not bound to anything. Even with his propensity for the ocean, the tawny and ink boy would have found himself content. The Corten male was the image of sanguineness. Where some would see a ravaged land, dismal in the steps of regrowth, he could see the blooming potential in the buds of the trees and the brush from the earth. The land could not have endured the tragedy for too long without having found a way to self-correct. In spite of the vicious rape on the foliage surrounding the coast, it was returning with spirit.
 
Trailing the feathery tufts of fur that lead up to Seelie’s oceanic optics, Oxtli understood well enough the questioning expression on her face. She wanted to know where they were pointing themselves. Swiveling his ears atop his skull, the Corten boy summoned a thoughtful frown to his dark lips. Scanning the shoreline, he could feel a fond beating in his chest at the premise of what could be found in the water and scattered along the silvery sands. The moon still shone high overhead and the stars that were littered above were twinkling with a bewitching warmth. Even with the gentle rolling of the waves against the shore, everything was in a sort of hush. The quiet washed over them like a blanket of peace.
 
It would have been a sensible decision for Amoxtli to point them toward the cover of whatever foliage they could find. It was late and his legs were weary from travel. In spite of this, there was a hunger in his eye that seemed to be sparked by the sands. He pulled his sights from the blue of his sister’s and focused them on the sparkling grains that stretched onward. Was it possible to find something hidden there?
 
Throwing sensibility to the wind, the willow darted forward a small distance, nudging his nose gently against the dark fur of Coelacanth’s shoulder. His features were turned skyward in a show of excitement. His soot-marked tail lifted up to flag to and fro. In a matter of moments, his brows were raised and he parted his mouth to huff eagerly. Having momentarily cast aside the thought of seeking out a den for the remainder of the night, he tossed his lengthy muzzle just ahead of them and trotted towards a particularly slimy patch of seaweed that had washed to shore. In the salty green muck, there appeared to be odd objects tangled here and there. Without waiting, the Tervuren began to nose through the weeds in search of pearls.
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