Sea Lion Shores some farcical aquatic ceremony

A heavy, moody rain was falling as the morning ebbed in to midday. Thick waves of fog rolled off the sea like an ungainly blanket only to clump like cotton through the nearest trees. The far-off island (the one named for the pesky, greedy, rats-with-wings that currently soared overhead) was heavily obscured due to the incliment weather.

It was only a spring storm. Yet on the heels of this erratic blustering of the weather, laying like a bundled heap of forgotten detritus spewed forth by the sea, or perhaps merely forgotten by the wayside by some other means, there was a man. His fur was thoroughly saturated in a way that exacerbated the vivacity of his pelt; the browns looked more brown, the reds more infernal, the gold -- well, okay, the flecks of gold throughout the scruff of his neck looked like messy sand, but the rest of him was bright, as things often became after a good dousing of water.

His extremities were crusted with bits of sand and salt, and the rest of him was netted in seaweed — but aside from looking like he'd been brought ashore only recently, he seemed to be in fine health. There was a rhythmic quality to his breathing (and, on that note, he was breathing - a miracle!), and when one of the inquisitive gulls perched itself upon the sand, one of his slicked ears lifted off of his soggy crown. It was a good sign.

The spring showers had shown up in full force the past week and today had been no exception. Rhona didn't mind the rain, in fact she quite loved storms. She loved the smell of a storm: rainy, atmospheric, and clean. The young female epecially loved the tumultuousness of a storm by the sea.

After watching the weather die down a bit, she combed the storm-wracked beach for anything of interest. She liked the curious things the sea threw up after a particularly angry storm, especially driftwood. Upon finding an exceptional piece, she took it between her jaws and pranced up and down the sandy swath, throwing it in the air, then grabbing it again as it fell to earth.

Flinging it a bit too high and too far, the leggy wolf tore after it, sand flying at her heels. Nose in the air and green eyes watching it's trajectory, she wasn't aware of the large bundle of... stuff directly in her path. Her front legs buckled as she stumbled upon it, and she rolled nose over tail before coming to a stop, muzzle buried in the wet sand.

Laughing and shaking off the sand, Rhona cautiously approach the bundle of smelly seaweed. She thought she had smelled wolf, but that couldn't be right! Upon closer inspection, she saw legs and fur. Neck slung low from her shoulders, she inspected the wolf and saw the gentle rising and falling of his flank, indicative of breath. She poked his crusty paw with her nose. "Uh...are you okay?" It was kind of an inane question, but what else do you ask a waterlogged wolf wrapped in seaweed?

It could be said that the first encounter between two unrelated factions of people could be a tumultuous affair. It did not help that half of this encounter was a salty burrito, and the other an enigmatic young lady. What sort of conversation could be derived between a woman and a burrito? Of course, it helped that this burrito was alive and, if a bit roughed up following the girls sudden stumble over his lethargic self, as well as one might suspect.

The man let loose a groan. The effort sent a wave of particulates flying from his lips. Then, coming closer to proper consciousness so as to hear her plea, he murmured, ... inn't mornin' yet, g'back to sleep -- which clearly showed the man was still somewhat invested in the whole... burrito mode... thing.

Or he was half dead. Whatever.

When his maw opened, Rhona wrinkled her nose at his foul breath. He spoke, not making much sense and she wondered what had befallen this poor soul to leave him like this. She padded around him, inspecting the seaweed. The smelly plant from the sea needed to come off and the saturated male undoubtedly need fresh water down his throat. "Oh you poor thing..." She soothed. "If you can understand me, I'm going to get this icky stuff off of you."

Rhona's jaws closed around a hunk of seaweed and she worried at it with her teeth until it tore. She continued to do the same around various spots on the tangled male. Careful to make sure none was wrapped around his neck, she began pulling the strands off of him, like unwrapping a gift.

As the man slowly came back to reality, his mind faced a series of trials. The voice that permeated his mental fog - rivaled only by the mist thrusting it's way towards the coast - was not one he recognized at first. He heard it. The words made sense. Yet there was a disconnect, and the wayward traveller filled in the blanks as best he could. This resulted in a strange momentary dream-like event.

The voice manifested, and in his mind's eye, the man saw a figure looming over his prone body —it wasn't a woman. In fact, it was a genderless creature with many heads; each spoke differently, with words he understood but found absolutely wrong and alienating— while the girl busied herself with tearing the weedy shackles off of his soggy limbs and torso, the man began to roll, to kick, and protest through the nightmare with kicks and grunts of defiance. Whether he (inadvertently) wounded his ally, he wouldn't know until his mind was restored.

She had gotten most of the seaweed off of the male when he started flail about. Unfortunately, her face was right near his hocks as he kicked and a blow landed above her right eye, one of his nails knicking off a bit of fur in a shallow cut. She yelped, mostly out of surprise and stood back.

Rhona took it as a good sign that he was rolling about...Well, at least it was a good sign physically. She was a bit concerned about his mental status at the moment. She gave his hind legs a wide berth and padded towards his top half. Crouching down behind his head, she began licking the center of his forehead and down his muzzle.

The young female grimaced as she did so, for he tasted terribly of salt and muck, but when she was a pup, it always made her feel calmed when her mother assauged her like this. After a few licks, she spoke again. "Come now. I'm trying to help you. You'll be alright. Especially once we get some fresh water in your belly." Her voice was soft, almost humming and her ministrations to the poor stranger made her feel quite grown up. It felt right. Perhaps she had just found her calling.

One by one the heads reared back, their faces twisted with a grimace or a snarl or in one case, silent laughter. But they did pull back. The whispering, shifting sounds of the voices became unbearably loud — and then there was warmth upon his face. The comforting intonations of his sister, maybe. It couldn't have been his mother, for she had passed months ago. Thus the man's first thought was of family, and when he was soothed enough to wake and open his eyes, he was filled at first with great exuberance for having been reunited with her — and then instantly crestfallen, sorrowful, and muddied with confusion when he saw it was a stranger.

The nightmare was over, for now. What came after left him speechless at first. Maybe it was the total body annihilation which had come along with his surfacing, or his utter stupification upon realizing he wasn't in the Vale, and this wasn't his beloved sister. Either way, he was subdued. The man opened his mouth to speak and found his lips were chapped, his tongue was acrid tasting with brine and the texture of sand upon it — and so after opening his mouth he shut it, quickly.

A furrow creased his brow unwittingly, and yet he leaned in to her ministrations,  finding the warmth of her touch to be much better feeling than the silvered fingers of the rain.

The licking had become easier as she had cleaned most of the taste of the sea from his forehead and muzzle. Her tongue still tasted bad and she could use a drink, but that would come in time.

She noted that his struggling seemed to calm and she felt smoother, more deliberate movement as he opened his eyes. An array of emotion flitted across his face and Rhona imagined that he must be terribly confused at the moment. Once he was more lucid and gathered, she'd really have to get his story.

She paused as he opend his jaws, but nothing came out. If she was thirsty, she knew he had to be quite parched and most likely dehydrated. She stood, walking around to his face and lay down in front of him, head on her paws, level with his. "Hi there. Are you awake now?"

When she stopped and adjusted her position, he blinked and raised his head because she'd stopped grooming at his face. It had been a pleasant reprieve from the strange cold of the rain and the brinewater that was soaking the rest of him. But now that she was situated in front of him, the man could fix his golden eyes upon her. He could trace the contours of her face — young, he thought, but well formed. It struck suddenly how odd the situation was; here they were, two strangers on a beach, and he was mesmerized by the happiness imbibed within her features. It felt like eons since he'd seen a smile.

I am, the man answered. His voice was rough, crackling a bit with the effort of speech. He paused to swallow the salt in his throat and the sand on his tongue, working some grains against the roof of his mouth, and then with a sigh the man tried to glean some information out of her. Perhaps she wasn't just a pretty face? She seemed kind too, and maybe that would be enough to enlighten him to the sitatuon.

Where... am I? He asked next, and while there were many thoughts and many questions swarming in his addled mind, that seemed tantamount. It smelled too strongly foreign to be the Vale; this girl, she wasn't one of the maidens there that he could remember (and, he would think later, she would've been memorable); there was no scent of the druids either, and they were everywhere, protecting everything.

Again, he frowned. Even when filled with the longing ache for home and a whirlwind of confusion, he held a regal bearing — but this was nearly too much. The kingdom of his birth, his sister, his duties — it was all gone?

Her tail wagged, thumping against the sand as he looked at her. Perhaps there was hope that he would get through this and be okay! Her smile widened into a grin. She stayed low, close to his face, so he wouldn't have to do much moving to continue to see her.

His poor voiced seemed nothing more than a croak, but she could understand him. As to where...here was, she wasn't entirely sure about that herself. Rhona had only just arrived to this unfamiliar land, days past. She had done some exploring, but had yet to meet another friendly face.

“You are at the coast of what seems to be a fairly vast land…” She stated, not really sure what to tell him. She wanted to reassure him and make him feel safe, but she didn’t have the knowledge. “There is a river with fresh water not too far from here though. I think you could use some clean drinking water.” And a bath, she added silently to herself. “Do you want to try to stand? I’ll help you.”

The coast..? It was a vague answer, but he could tell by the uncertain glow in her eyes that she did not mean to be difficult about it; she simply did not have the information to share. It was more surprising than it should've been, really. The man seemed bereft for a moment. He was silent as he took in the statement, flicking his ears to catch her further conversation, but not responding. The whirlwind in his mind did not abate.

If this was the coast, but not the coast he knew... Then this wasn't the Vale. This was somewhere totally foreign. A land beyond. Was it possible? There had been tales of great lands apart from his island home from the Ancients (a term loosely used for his family's elders and wisest druids), but there was never any proof, not until...

That cannot be. The stranger settled in to his denial in the manner that his body had settled upon this shore — wrapping himself in a mental snare. Next, adamant that he prove the truth in his statement, he tried to rise up on his feet and get a better look around himself. The weeds were still draped across parts of his body but the girl had freed him from the bulk of it — yet still his body shook, his muscles weak from whatever pulverizing force had brought him here. It took him three tries to stand, and when he did the man saw more than just an endless bar of sand in either direction - he saw the plump silhouettes of strange beasts in the distance.

It had to be true, then. This was not his home - this was somewhere strange and new, and it should have been thrilling to him, but it absolutely wasn't. For the first time in a long time, the man felt a bolt of tremulous uncertainty deep within himself.

He turned his attention back upon the girl then, fierce and bright like a hawk's own, and drawled in his weakend voice, How long have I been here..? I... I have no memory of how this could have happened -- that it could happen at all -- and just as swiftly as he had been up and speaking, his withers quaked, and his haunch fell back to the sand. He sagged as if in defeat, his head low between his shoulders. There is no way back for me... he realized aloud, and then muted himself again, as if in mourning for all that he had lost.

She watched his masculine face and golden eyes as she spoke to him. Again, so many emotions warred across his features. He must not remember how he came to be tangled on these shores. Her green eyes swept over him for the first time since freeing him from the seaweed. He looked healthy and strong apart from being wet, sandy and salty. He looked to be a wolf in his prime.

She stayed silent as he tried to stand, offering her shoulder in support. She murmered encouragement and praise as he finally made it to his feet. She stood next to him, shoulder to shoulder and flank to flank, should he need her support.

Words gushed from his mouth, as he voiced his confusion and sorrow. Rhona's brow furrowed and her heart ached so much for him. She felt him tremble and frowned as his back legs collapsed onto the sand. He looked so dejected as he hung his head, she had to do something!

The young female licked to top of his muzzle to his forehead again. "I'm so very sorry..." She whispered. "I wish I had answers for you, but I don't." The one thing she did know, is that as much as she was loathe to leave him alone, she would have to find a way to bring him some water...or at least food. Yes, food would be her next order of business.

Her touch was a comfort, and if nothing else the man was thankful to have company in this turbulent moment. Whatever void the loss of his home and his people created could be easily filled by people like her - whoever she was. This kind soul who happened upon him. Although the man was filled with sadness, a smile spread across his dusky face; it was a strain to fake any sort of pleasure so he did not mask the hurt he felt, but at the same time tried to show how thankful he was for her presence, and leaned in to her.

It is.. No, it will be, alright, he murmured against her scruff, perhaps becoming too intimate with his proximity as he mourned his losses; yet in every avenue of his life the man had never been afraid of intimacy. It helped that the Vale was thoroughly populated with his family rather than strangers — thus intimacy became taboo in a different manner, but also more open — and as if realizing this after he inadvertently comforted them both with his words, he pulled back from her touch.

If a wolf could blush then surely he would be, but rather, his ears fanned out on either side of his head. I am sorry — you are... Just so warm. But already the momentary lapse was forgotten, and he was thinking of his family, and all that was left behind. He turned to look out at the sea again, watching the mist and feeling the rain pelt down upon him like the tears he could not shed.

I am lucky to have you here, kind girl. Lucky to be alive too. I only wish... that I was home, he would've added, but it seemed to go without saying. Any lost boy would wish to be reunited with family. With this in mind he looked to her and coyly asked, You are not from here either, then? These beaches are strange and new to you, as they are with me. It is another thing to be thankful for I suppose — our shared strangeness. And, after a beat, I.. I am called Pendragon.

He'd never had to introduce himself before.

After licking his face, she felt him lean into her and she buried her nose into his stiff shoulder fur, the wolf equivalent of a hug. Beneath the smell of the sea and salt was his scent. His distinctly male scent. She breathed it in, feeling a bit light headed, then opened her eyes wide (not realizing they were even closed). She felt slightly ashamed with herself. This poor guy was lost and confused and upset and here she was enjoying his maleness…

She tried not to notice his scent while she breathed. She was content to stay close to him, touching him, as long as he wanted to. Rhona smiled slightly as he seemed to rally. Though she was the one supposed to be making him feel better (she thought), his words did comfort her. If he thought that there was hope for himself, then it would be easier for him to work through his despair.

The young female frowned slightly as he moved away and silently agreed. He was warm and sharing warmth felt nice. It had been too long since Rhona had been this close to another and, as a social creature, she craved the contact. There was a pause as he looked out to the sea and Rhona shook herself as the raindrops clumped her pelt together.

Fluffy red ears cupped in his direction as he spoke. More than he had spoken before. She shook her head, definitely not from around here. “Yes, I’m new here as well…Pendragon.” She tested out his name. “My name is Rhona. I’d only arrived a couple days past and you’re the first wolf I’ve come across.” She then looked down at the sand, suddenly shy. “I’m glad to have found you.”

His mind was a distant thing now. An island to itself, while the girl remained bound to the mainland. He heard her speaking, heard her name and likely would remember it, but the weight of everything was still heavy. Pendragon watched the sea through the haze of incliment weather and saw the surf pull back, retreating from the two of them, only to come crashing back in to place — and beyond, among the mists, he wondered if the Vale lurked unseen.

I'm glad to have found you, Rhona had concluded. He had to agree. Perhaps the man would not have survived without discovery? Perhaps he had been cast out of the Vale and brought here for some ethereal purpose, and she was meant to find him. He let out a small sigh, and with it went only a sand grain of his pain. But Pendragon knew he could not mourn properly, not yet. Not here on this strange shore, and especially not in his condition.

After a long while of staring silently out at the sea, Pendragon gave up his vigil and focused upon Rhona. The kind-eyed girl who waited patiently, basking in his company as he withered beside the sea.

Thank you, Rhona. I fear I may have perished had you not discovered me today. But that begged the unspoken question — now what?

Alerted to this sudden, forbidding, terrible thought, Pendragon frowned again - but he got back to his feet, his tail swaying at his hocks limply. If he could not go back, then he would start anew - perhaps with her. Will you walk with me? He queried, in part because he enjoyed her company, but also because he was still so tired and bruised, being a castaway, that he feared the weakness betraying him. Perhaps there are natives to this land that would... maybe.. welcome us, he pondered aloud, and then fell quiet again, and introspective.

Rhona watched as Pendragon's thoughts seem to turn inward again. His golden eyes had that glassy, far away look as he gazed back out to sea. Rhona had left her loved ones voluntarily. She couldn't imagine having your life ripped from you without choice, not mention being transported (by the sea?) somehow to a totally foreign place. She sat there silently surveying the sea with him. She felt comfortable in the silence, not awkward or feeling like it need be broken with idle words.

The two sat like that for an uncharted amount of time. It felt like forever and yet only seconds at the same time. In the distance, she could hear the hoarse barking of those strange, fat creatures that usually inhabited these shores. For whatever reason, they weren't crowding this particular stretch of beach today and for that she was thankful. They unnerved her.

She nodded as he thanked her, a slight smile upon her maw, she didn't want to think about what would have happened had she not discovered him. It was quite possible that someone else would have found them. Rhona had scented other wolves in the area, but had yet to see them.

She stood when he stood, her tail waving slowly back and forth. Of course she would walk him. She couldn't leave him now even if she tried. She'd stay close to him, incase he needed her assistance. "I have scented other wolves in this area, but have yet to meet any. Oh and there's a river that way." She pointed east and north with her muzzle.

It was a good plan. They could get a bearing for things by travelling together, and certainly anyone they encountered would be enamored by Rhona's kind eyes - charmed by her more than his miserable self. He did not wish to use her in any way, and it would guilt him should their decision be the wrong one or lead to any hardship - but it was the right call.

Let us head to the river then, he agreed, and maybe along the way we will encounter someone who can enlighten us to this strange new world. He shifted then, took a few shaky steps, and fell in to position beside Rhona so that she could support him if she wished - or if he were to stumble suddenly.

To pass the time, Pendragon thought to ask, from where do you hail? It is... not common, from my perspective, for a young woman to be wandering alone. If it does not pain you, I would love to hear your story. His ears twisted back upon his head as he spoke, feeling a bit silly for the manner in which he phrased things - but it was the truth. Women were always escorted, and knights had a sworn duty to protect them. To that end, where was her knight?

They began their journey slowly, Rhona close enough to help him, should he stumble, but far enough to give him some feeling of independence. An ear was cocked in his direction as he spoke, her green eyes looking ahead to make sure the way was smooth and obstacle free for Pendragon. She giggled slightly as he spoke about her wandering by herself. She wasn't laughing at him, but thought of not wandering where she wanted, when she wanted, by herself. He must come from a very different place indeed.
 
"I was born in the valley of Hartmere." She began, her brow furrowed as she attempted to work out which direction it might be towards. She had wandered over such a distance, she wasn't quite sure anymore. "It was so named because of a perfectly round pool of uncertain depths in the center of the valley that the red deer consider sacred." She paused, swallowing. The sooner they got to that river, the better. Her tongue felt like it was surrounded by rabbit fur.
 
"I grew up happy among my brothers and sisters and other family members, but one day, a loner came to the borders of the pack. The alphas allowed her to join and from then on, she was trouble." Rhona felt anger rising inside of her. "She was manipulative and a liar. She would do things and blame them on me, whether it be hurting a pup or stealing prey from the cache. Long story short, I grew tired of it, so I left. My brother believed me, but no one else did. That was how great her influence over my pack became." She paused, lost in the memories of anger and betrayal. Then her mind cleared and she looked at the male beside her. "And as for me wandering by myself, my pack has no such qualms about letting us females wander free." She said laughingly.

They walked, and he listened. Following her tale opened his mind, but also made his thoughts shift away from his sorrow.

The tale itself was curious to him. Beyond the strangeness of welcoming a foreigner among their family, it seemed more and more bizarre that the newcomer would eventually control the opinions of the pack. He did not openly question the story, nor comment as she told it - but the whole affair did not sit well with him. No doubt it bothered her as well, as Rhona confirmed, for she was here now and not among her people.

As he was about to comment, she broke his concentration — mentioning that the ways of her pack were not so uncommon. He smiled at this, finding the tone of her voice to be sweet and pleasant upon his ears. I do not doubt your abilities, Rhona, she seemed more than capable; however, the women from his own home were druids and peacekeepers, not warriors. It made sense within the Vale.

To be driven from your home by your own people - it is a deplorable act. I will mourn your loss alongside mine. The smile slipped from his lips briefly, and he paused his pace as if to make the moment more poignant. A moment later he continued, leaning in to her as they walked together.

You have shown me kindness, and I pledge myself to your defence, should you ever be in need. Such a situation should never have arisen — although, he had a more jovial tone to his voice now, and leaned in to nudge her cheek with his cold nose, you are strong, independent, and fully capable of defending your own honor, fair maiden, of which I have no doubt.

The sand began to give way to little tufts of hardy grass that told Rhona they were getting closer to the river. Walking and talking with Pendragon made the time fly. She was very pleased that he was still on his paws and walking. She admired his strength. She was sure many others would have layed there upon the shore, wallowing in self pity...possibly even until death. She felt the courage of the handsome, golden eyed male, somehow instinctivly knowing that he was stout of heart and not one to give up easily. 

The frustration of leaving her pack fled far, far away as he leaned against her. His warmth, his scent...she could easily lose herself in his scent. She leaned back against him, shoring him up with her strength, in case he began feeling weak. She shook her head as he said he'd mourn her loss along with him. "Please don't trouble yourself over my past, Pendragon." She spoke softly. That anyone would say such a thing...it was very sweet, but adding to his suffering was the last thing in the world that she wanted to do.

Rhona stopped mid stride as the male pledged himself to her defence. No one had ever said such words to her...had ever cared enough to think of such things. She was shocked, awestruck even. She felt tears begin to prick the back of her eyes. Don't cry. Don't cry. She chanted to herself. She then smiled slightly at his tone, how could one not? True, she was capable of of defending herself, she thought. She'd never needed to yet. But the thought of someone else wanting to defend her, take care of her, touched her deeply. "Pendragon...I don't know what to say. Thank you...thank you so very much!"

How fortunate he was to have found her, of all people. He could hear the emotion in her voice — see the shine of her eyes too, for which he felt some guilt — and then tried to soothe her as they walked, grooming at her scruff carefully or pressing his shoulder to her's, even batting his tail in broad strokes so that it wagged in tandem with her's. Things he often did with his sister — his people were not afraid of contact, or shared spaces.

The river was getting closer, although it would be a while before either wolf found the great vein of it pulsing through the earth. The scent of brine had begun to fade on the wind, and even the rain had all but ceased now. As loathe as Pendragon was to separate from this divine creature... There was still a weight upon his mind, and he wished to levy it alone.

Rhona.. he murmured softly, crooned almost, and breathed a sigh. When we find the river... I will need some time. There is much for me to think about, to... to put in to perspective. To mourn, he would have added, but that was obvious by the sag of his shoulders, the weight he still carried upon his bruised back. But I do not want to leave you for long. Would that be... alright?

She felt much more light hearted as the swarthy male touched her as they continued walking, leaning against her and grooming the scruff of her neck. Even after all he had been through, he still made an effort to make sure she was okay. He must have seen the tears trying to well in her green eyes, after his pledge. Some more time passed in companionable silence and the rain stopped. Rhona shook herself once more, glad that the constant breeze would dry her multicolored pelt...if it didn't start raining again, that is.

Pendragon breathed her name and she looked at him. Her breath hitched in her throat at the look on his face and her heart began to beat faster, a fear-like reaction. His words reached her ears...were processed by her brain and her stomach dropped. She knew she was wrong. She knew she was being selfish for wanting to stay with him...they were practically still strangers to each other.

"Of...of course." She stuttered out the words, trying so very hard to keep any emotion and tremble out of her voice. "You take as much time as you need. You've been through so much!" 

Then, thank the gods above, a hare shot across their path. It must have been hiding in one of the grassy tussocks near them. Rhona bounded away, so very thankful for the distraction. She didn't want Pendragon to see how his words affected her. Up and over a slight hill she went, putting on a burst of speed. Long legs covered the distance in no time. The hare gave quite a chase, but Rhona was very determined. Powerful jaws closed around a back leg and the hare screamed before she dispatched it. Brown creature hanging limply from her jaws, Rhona trotted back to Pendragon and dropped the hare at his paws.

She acquiesced to his request, although there was a clear display of emotion both in her expression and in her voice when she spoke. He could have comforted her further had a hare not burst through the underbrush, zipping by them and away — and she was off then, chasing it, while Pendragon paused in his strides. He was surprised by the arrival of the hare, and too tired still to give chase himself. But he saw the opportunity to slip away while Rhona was distracted by the hunt — and as thrilled as he was to watch her run, he knew he would have a hard time pulling himself away from her side if he lingered much longer — and so Pendragon slipped away. When Rhona returned, hare suspended by a long crooked leg out of her clenched jaws, she would be leaving the gift where he used to stand. His prints were visible in the loam, but he was already gone.