When his feet fell from the hard touch of the earth to the grainy sands, it was as though he was immediately relieved. The tight muscles in his shoulders and chest had begun to fall. The waters crashed against the shore with a gentle push and pull. While his legs continued their move, his eyes were trained on her power. He would not have lasted in his right mind if they had been trapped on the land for another day. It was as though the cogs in his mind had been freshly oiled and cleaned; ready for the next hard day of labor.

Without pause, Smokestep turned from his sister's side and began to sprint. His long legs stretched out on the sand with each pounding step that he took. The seafarer slammed into the water with his chest. His legs buckled from underneath him at the sudden resistance. Smokestep rolled into the water without hesitation. The freezing touch of her hand against his flesh was electric. He could have existed beneath the swell for the rest of his days without emerging.

Life returned to his limbs. Swimming in the swell was almost a second nature to the pale Cairn. His sea legs were far stronger than they would ever be on firm land. He was beginning to wonder how he had lasted so long in their travels. Skellige had made the journey, twice over. Smokestep knew that they were sent because they were meant to reclaim their home. Sandpiper was certainly strong enough; he would have chosen no one else to have at his side. Bobbing beneath the waves, he could see that his sea-salted sister had joined him in the surge.

The two basked in their moment with the ocean and Sandpiper was the first to return to the shore. Smokestep did not take long to follow her. He dripped with brine and the smell of saline waters, but he was alight with energy. It seemed as though his sister wished to move on with their quest. As he trotted to come up at her rear, his eyes scanned his surroundings. Watching the stork with narrowed eyes and an empty expression on his pale features, Kingfisher lost himself to thought for several long seconds. The chattering of the otters brought him back.

“Are ye hungry?” he asked with a grunt.

Sandpiper confirmed the boy's assumption. He smiled softly at her response, looking back to the bird in the sands. It seemed as though the siblings were not quite alone, though. A loud call came from behind the two Cairns. Smokestep's ear swiveled atop his head, recognizing the cry immediately as a familiar one. In a matter of minutes, the sands beside them were flung upward and into the air, peppering the pirate's coarse white coat. Kingfisher calmly turned his head to face the masked bandit. His dark lips curled upward in a suitable smirk at the familiar face. He would never have admitted it, but the companionship of another thief and rogue was more than welcome to the pale Cairn. Sandpiper eyed Raptor with a curious glint in her gaze.

“Aye, Raptor,” Smokestep jeered with a chuckle that rumbled within his chest. “What took ye so long, mate?” For the two Cairn siblings had been in the wilds for days longer than Raptor had. The marauder was curious what his friend had been up to and why he hadn't been invited to the heist. Surely if there had been something enthralling happening, Smokestep would have received the most royal of invitations from the dark-furred scoundrel.

Raptor had always been something of a candid fellow. Smokestep had come to find that while the sable wolf was wild in his actions, there was no better to stand beside. The burnt titian color of his eyes had always held a spark of impishness, but the pirate was confident in all of Raptor's abilities. The crew was forming well enough and the pale creature knew that it would not be long before they would have others within their ranks.

At the corsair's reply, Smokestep cast him a crooked smirk and shook his head. “Oi and you think that yer the one to watch me back?” he inquired with a small snip of acrimony. Of course he did not mean it; there was not a finer pirate on the coast than Raptor, but the ghostly seafarer was keen on keeping their relationship brimming with sarcasm and rancor. They'd spoken far worse to each other in the past, and would surely degrade to much worse after they'd ingested the rum. Of all his pirate skills, Raptor had a knack for making some of the best rum and grog that Smokestep had ever tasted.

“Ye hear this cad, Piper?” he began loudly, hoping to draw his sister into their clucking. When she did not respond right away, he turned his attention to where she had stood and saw that her freckled frame had traveled away from them.

“Aye, then. Let's get some grub,” he smirked, turning and flipping his tail toward Raptor's face with a playful and brazen swagger in his steps.