Sea Lion Shores samsara

<style type="text/css">.ame {margin:auto; width:530px; text-align:justify;font-size:11px;} .ame q {color:#7a2638; font-family:georgia;font-weight:bold;letter-spacing:1.3px;} .ame p {margin:0px;text-indent:30px;}</style>

He confirmed, then prompted a deeper furrow of her expression. Fresh blood? She understood it happened, naturally, as was the course of the predatory existence but this did not seem like just neglecting to clean oneself up after a messy meal, or even not bothering to wash after a bloodied brutal fight. His further words only led to more of the same; she got the sense he liked it.

No wonder he had reeked like old rot. Is there a purpose in wearing blood? Besides negating the.. brine, she inquired, for truly she doubted that was his sole purpose in doing so -- crusted sea salt could not warrant it alone, right? The new curious concept had her wondering, and this lured out her more inquisitive side. He had entertained her with answers so far so she had little reason to rein back yet.

He pointed out her lack of pack scent and Ame nodded first. Because I do not run with a pack here, she chuffed simply in response. She lurked their outskirts, existed in the in-between spaces, and scavenged their leftovers when they abandoned their lands. Not a glorious existence, but one all the same.