Coconut Grove Your anger is frightening the sand

If not for his terrible hunger and weakness, Peregrine might have rather enjoyed this strangely exotic locale, with its windswept dunes and very peculiar trees. They looked like serpents carved out of stone, slithering up toward the blue June sky. Or maybe that was just his low blood sugar causing him to hallucinate. One way or the other, the black wolf slowed to a stop and slumped down beneath one, breathing in the humid, salty air as he rested his weary legs.

While he sat back, he peered upward at the ridiculous tree, just in time for one of the coconuts in a cluster directly overhead to drop right onto his face and knock him out cold.

she awoke, startled; she had been bid by her dreams to visit the coast, and awoke in one of the circles her father had spoken of. at its very edges, flowers would soon break free of the fertile earth they were beneath. deirdre felt older, somehow; her family would not have seen her for hours, but she felt as if she had slept for years.

the coast beckoned when her eyes did open, and she looked 'round to discern which direction to head. but ah, the whisps came as they always seemed to when she needed to find her way; be it a figment of imagination or phosphorous gas that truly did arrive at the strangest hours in her life that others could truly see, only others could know. perhaps, this time, it was all a delusion of her hunger. but she followed these lights nonetheless, ever unable to catch them and knowing better, by now, than to try--these spirits were her guide, and she followed them devotedly.

it took time, but she came to a place that looked eerie when so terribly bare. it was as though she stood within a broken jaw, where only the jutting teeth might remain visible as she stood on some beasts sandladen tongue. but she did not fear; even the naked grove sang its welcome to her in its way, the waters darting to kiss at her feet gingerly in greeting and welcome. she did not question why she was here--the answer would come. and so it did! there, slumped against the wood, was a creature that had fallen limp! she raced toward it concernedly, first discerning what thing she might have discovered--food? a friend?--and withdrawing when she noted the thing she had found was neither. beside the inkblot was a coconut that had split open from its impact; in only one, the remnants of its juice lingered at the very bottom of it, the rest having dryed in the sunlight. deirdre sniffed at it, and the sweet smell first enticed her to drink it. other coconuts loitered the earth in the distance--she saw, upon observation, a lone bird perched atop another opened one. it seemed to be partaking in whatever was offered, and so deirdre herself sampled the stuff without worry. there was little of it left, and she knew after observing valley creatures what would harm and what would not. she then took the shell and moved toward the singing sea, to put within it cool water. deirdre returned to the stranger, only to tip the shell so the liquid would spill onto the man. she withdrew swiftly, and observed. if this did not rouse him, she would return to the ocean and keep doing as she had, if only to cool his body temperature, before she tried anything else.

Hours passed, the surf inching up the sand before retreating again as the tides turned. Peregrine remained oblivious to it all. Sand and salt crusted his black fur and hungry birds circled in the sky. He did look like nothing more than a pile of carrion. Had any roaming predators wandered past, they probably wouldn't have differentiated much and scavenged his sorry (non) carcass all the same. Fortunately, no one came to devour him where he took a long sand nap on the beach.

But a benign disturbance eventually arrived in the form of a young white-wolf. He wasn't to know that it was his best friend's daughter, a wolf he actually knew by name. He didn't know much at all about anything until she splashed cold, salty water in his face. Peregrine spluttered as he jerked upright, blinking owlishly before wincing at the sharp, terrible pain in his skull.

"Uuuhhhnng," he slurred stupidly.

deirdre observed him for a moment, and as he stirred she placed the coconut between her legs, watching the groaning man. she had withdrawn as he sharply rose, and noted his wincing. she did not yet move as she looked to his jade eyes, trying to discern the damage done.

after approximately thirty seconds of silence, deirdre hummed to him, how do you feel?

He didn't even realize he wasn't alone—that the dousing hadn't been an event as spontaneous as it was inexplicable—until the child spoke. Peregrine jerked, the motion making his head throb all the more. He groaned under his breath. He wanted to swear but he was having a really hard time with articulation at the moment.

"Mmmnnng," Peregrine replied to her query. He understood her perfectly well, even if the sound of her voice—and all the other surrounding noises, for that matter—made his head feel like it was going to split wide open. He just couldn't get his tongue to cooperate, to form words.

deirdre looked to him, his response telling one of two things (or perhaps even all of the above)--he didn't feel good, or his brain had been damaged in the injury he had sustained by whatever had hurt him. had it been the tree he slumped beneath, or the split-open coconut? perhaps he was also dehydrated. the young cub, though skilled, was not yet the best medicine woman to call upon in these matters. she had been summoned in her dreams to aid him, and so she would in the ways she could, limited that they were given the lack of plant life.

i will get you water. you must drink. i am not sure if you can move, but if you can, stay here. i will be back. and so with that, deirdre grabbed for the half she had not brought to the saltwater. the aromatic scent was sweet still, but this portion had dried. the young girl sought a fresh watersource, which did not take her too long, and returned before long to where she had left peregrine, drinking water in tow. she'd have to go back and forth a couple of times, she figured, to hydrate him properly after the potential hours he had spent in the sun. not being sure of that, she simply wanted to play it safe.

She said a few more things and Peregrine attempted to reply, yet still his tongue wouldn't cooperate. It felt thick, dry and strangely tingly. When he went to open and close his mouth, his lips felt peculiar, as if they were partially numb or something. And when he attempted to shift his weight on the sand, everything just felt very off kilter. It was like his muscles weren't connected properly to his brain at the moment.

That thought sent a flash of panic through him. While his body seemed to be failing on him (yet again!), his mind worked, more or less. Granted, it was a bit fuzzy. But he understood that he must have hit his head somehow and lost consciousness. He got that the pretty little girl was trying to help him. He had enough presence of mind to know that the disconnect with his body was downright scary.

When the youth returned, his drab jade eyes followed her. He was thirsty. He bent to drink from the proffered shell—oblivious to its role in this shit show—but found his tongue only flopped out of his mouth haphazardly. It tingled slightly with sensation and when he tried to lap it back into his mouth, he slopped water all over himself. Disregarding this and the anxiety it engendered, he continued to slurp desperately at the cool, fresh fluid.

even one so experienced as she knew that what she saw from him was not good. his motor functions were poor, and as he attempted to drink from the water he spilled more of it than he drank. deirdre wished to take care of him; she simply was not sure how to, without taking him to donnelaith. deirdre realized that this was what she must do, or else she could be leaving him here to die. who knew what might come against him when he was alone? he certainly could not defend himself--not in a world where meat was so difficult to find.

she took in a deep breath. i am deirdre stella mayfair, of donnelaith, she introduced herself, lowering her head to look levelly at him. i am going to bring you back to my home with me. i do not know where you are from, and i do not know if you have any to care for you where you do come from. perhaps you know someone within my home that would, and we can inform them if that is so. but to leave you here is to leave you for dead in your state... she watched him, unflinching and resolute for one so young; but she knew of death, and knew she did not wish to give it wings. her fascination and respect for it did not rest in the killing act, and macabre though her interest was, she knew that before that moment came for any, if she could help it, she would halt The Reaper in Their tracks.

Although it was difficult and sloppy, he managed to take the edge off his thirst and when Peregrine reached the bottom of the makeshift dish, his tongue felt slightly more mobile. He scraped it against his teeth and was just contemplating attempting speech again when the fair young lady spoke to him once more, her voice soft and kind.

Her name immediately captured his attention. "Deeeeerrrrr," Peregrine drawled without thinking, then slapped his mouth shut sloppily, letting her continue. This was Lasher's daughter, he acknowledged with a few blinks of his eyes. She wanted to take him home with her to Donnelaith. Of course, he immediately resisted the idea internally.

"Nnnnnnnnnn," he tried to helplessly refute. But, of course, she was right. His inability to speak spoke for itself. He might not have a choice here.

All the same, he tried to protest with the only other language left to him. Peregrine shoved very drunkenly to his feet, wobbling and swaying but somehow remaining more or less upright. He felt like his face and everything else was drooping, though maybe that was just in his head. He felt strange and foolish, yet he planted his black toes in the sand and unevenly shook his head, demonstrating that he didn't particularly intend to cooperate.

"Nnnnn, nnn," he tried again, feeling like he was recovering slightly more feeling in his lips and tongue with every passing second. Maybe more water would help? His gaze suddenly and pointedly dropped to the empty coconut shell.

was that recognition? ah, but there was no time to think of it, nevermind wonder!

deirdre watched as he rose, but remained unconvinced; it showed, though not unkindly. her eyes were not full of pity, but concern for his life. she did not think him a fool; all men and women were not so aware of their mortality until that final breath, when it was all they could be aware of! not even deirdre knew of this, but there was that horrific sense of it, and wanting to keep others away from the nightmare brought to life--or, death.

he gestured at the bowl, and she complied. knowing his state, he would not be able to get too far from her even if he did try to escape. still, she said, please do not go, and went to do as he had asked of her. she would let him make his case, and if it did not go well, she would continue to make hers. she was not an unfair girl, and if perhaps he made some miraculous recovery within the next odd hours, what could she do but agree with him? unlikely though it was, deirdre knew of miracles, and, more than that, believed in them. she returned to him in no time, again, with the water, her eyes searching for his form.

She made to refill the water dish, begging him not to go even as she departed. Peregrine huffed a laugh. He didn't think he could go anywhere in this state. It wasn't that he wanted to run off on her anyway. He just didn't want to go to Donnelaith, even if it would be good to see Lasher. He needed to get home. He had a family to care for and feed, even if he was in the worst possible state for any of that. He could not, would not, abandon them, nor leave them wondering where on earth he had gone or what had happened to him.

When Deirdre returned, Peregrine let his legs buckle and sank down to drink. This time, he managed to get nearly as much of the water into his mouth as on the surrounding sand. He felt it slide down his throat and hit his belly. He sighed and messily smacked his lips, then paused, waiting. It was almost as if the fluid restored the lubrication of his muscles and nerves, allowing them to operate again. He still wasn't anywhere near maximum capacity as far as functioning went, yet with each second that ticked past, he saw and felt slight improvement.

This time, when he tried to speak, Peregrine managed, "Deeeeer." He smiled crookedly in relief, his mouth still feeling very weird but at least partially operational. "Thhhhh... ksssss."

after he drank, he was able to speak, his speech only a slight bit better than before. at the very least, it was intelligible, which was a true comfort. she smiled in turn at him, nodding.

i know you must want to return home now. but i worry, she breathed, i worry that the journey will be long, and what you might run into along the way. i am only learning of healing now, but you still do not appear well to me, sir. perhaps it is not so, perhaps you will be well by the time we arrive to donnelaith! but i ask that you come with me nonetheless--so that i can know you will arrive safely home. donnelaith is not too far from here, not too far that they need fear much danger; deirdre was no protector, and in his state, the nameless man was no defender. she sucked in a breath. i will not force you, of course, came her miserable admission, and she looked to him with tired eyes. still, she was no less lovely for the exhaustion she felt. famine had taken much, but not her spirit, not her heart, not her care for others and their wellbeing. were it not for her promise to larkspur, to meet her on the eve after the next full moon, she might have decided to follow peregrine home to be certain instead of simply worrying... but she prayed, and glanced skyward to project this silent prayer upward and so that it might surround them, that it need not come to that, that there be no reason to worry. prayed, fiercely, he would come with her, even if his stay would be brief.

The precocious child remained calm and benevolent in the face of Peregrine's stubbornness. She spoke reasonably and every word out of her mouth reminded him of Taltos. She was like the perfect mixture of her parents, actually; she had her mother's generous heart and sweet bedside manner, clearly, and her father's well-spoken intellect. The swarthy wolf sighed, reluctantly admitting that she was right, of course, and that he would never make it back to his family without the help already given, as well as the future assistance promised by her invitation into Donnelaith.

He tried to apologize with his eyes, then he took a step toward her. He bobbed his head mutely, then tried more words. "Sss gggo." Let's go, he tried to clarify with his facial expression, still partly convinced his face wasn't cooperating the way it should. His cheek muscles felt as strange as his lips and tongue had moments ago, though they were also recovering some of their feeling now too. "Tooo L'sherrr." Yes, it was painstaking but Peregrine was slowly but surely regaining his faculties.

Still, he felt and looked like someone under the influence of some sort of heavy medication. Everything about him was downright dopey as he took a few more unsteady steps. He tried to position himself even with Deirdre's svelte white shoulder and instead swayed heavily into her, his muzzle knocking into the side of her neck even as he hissed out, "Mmmmmf, s'rrryyy."

the utter relief she felt was visible. her shoulders rose and she herself nearly smiled, but the incident was too severe and worrisome for her features to move in such a manner. deirdre could have wept, so glad she was--and it was then he said a name, her fathers name, and she tilted her head. my father, she hummed, smiling--it was good to know this man was a friend of her adored father, good to know that she could help such a man, for she wondered how many her father loved out in the world. that she might aid one pleased her, as he had done so much for her as her father, her guide, her teacher.

his muzzle fell into her feathery neck, but she did not wince or flinch. judging his movements, every bit of them, she had expected some lack of control in his coming to her. she, not a small girl, but full, a woman in appearance [though a gaunt one, thanks to hunger], did what she could to support him. despite her adult stature, he still was larger than she. there is no need to be sorry. come, she instructed, and moved with the inky stranger every bit of the way home. she played the part of the scaffold when necessary, lending herself at all times to him when he stumbled.