Their search for bones leads them off of the island, predictably. It would hardly be proper to rob the bones of their fellows from their graves, and the bones of any simple creature will not do. These must be wolf bones. In their determination, Mhairi tunes out all else, a slinking wraith fashioned of sea mist haunting the coastline. There is an effortless confidence to their wanderings, an easy gait; a monarch surveying their domain. The ocean has always belonged to me.
February 17, 2021, 10:51 AM
He could hear the waves crashing violently against each other in the distance. He had never liked them. Granules of sand stuck between his toes and in his cracked, travel-weary paws. In a brooding and sinister mood, he trawled aimlessly until a shadow emerged from the mist. The stranger had physical eloquence that led him to believe the other was forged of this, if not born from it.
He stopped abruptly and maintained a generous distance while his pendulous galleon gaze lingered over the stranger.
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