The Sentinels enfants jouant a la balle

He breathed a heavy sigh as he watched a clump of locusts; they were piled against a series of stones, buffered by the sea water, and there was a strange milky foam around them. It was like baring witness to a witch's brew, and Renoir could not help but be unnerved by it. He crept closer though, curious, and bent his head to sniff along the rock's nearer surfaces as if they would lend him some clues. When he raised his head again, he saw a dark figure exploring the shallow patches and ponds left by the waves, just up the beach. The figure was darker than Lasher. The pallet used for their body being colder - or perhaps it was the midday light upon the sea which cast everything in a morose blue tint? Either way, he knew it was not the alpha, and he redirected his curiosity. As Renoir sauntered closer, he saw that the figure did not grow in size as he neared it; there was a tapering to their body, a largeness to some parts, and a familiarity. He did not know this was the kindred sister of Dierdre, whom he was so enamored by, but he felt a thrill beneath his breast all the same - and called to her with a soft bark upon the briney wind.