Sequoia Coast poptarts are ravioli

She does not see his approach at first. The wind blows in the opposite direction but the air is much too thick with salt and sea spray to really to be given any advantage. Glad to be back, she continues on the search but each step becomes more pronounced than the next. If she could suck it up and get home, everything would be easier. She doesn’t have a den of her own, and she doesn’t have one to share with anyone else—and Hougeda isn’t an option for her at the moment—but she can still find somewhere to rest for a while and give a chance for her swollen joint to heal.
 
Glancing away from her search, she lifts her head and looks out to sea. From the corner of her gaze, she sees a blur of white and instantly she jerks to the side defensively. Of course, until she sees it’s Artaax.
 
Furi rolls her eyes and releases a pent up breath. The frustration over the last few days doesn’t rest solely on her ankle. Her mind if often filled with Aviana and her scent, the weird feeling it caused in response and, if she moves a certain way and the wind brushes against her face, she can still catch a whiff. And that’s exactly what happened.
 
The wind rolls up from the sea and she shifts, awkwardly shuffling her feet so she can ease some of the pressure on her front paw. Focusing on Artaax, watching as he gets close, she hopes to hide the weird, uncomfortable frustration filling her chest but his face turns accusing and her own hardens, staring back without answering. He isn’t her boss and she doesn’t have to answer for anything.