Sequoia Coast your heart is like the ocean, mysterious and dark

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perhaps you will. the great perhaps. what was inevitable? and so she would pursue that perhaps, make it into a thing they could both see and feel. she moved to rest on his solid shoulder, her muzzle sliding over the coarser furs of his salt-rimmed furs. inconspicuously she began to preen at it, near-possessive in the movement. truly, this shoulder would be made into her own she had decided, so it must be made comfortable for her. i will be happy again, she promised herself, the activity a distraction, numbing to her mind in its repetitiveness, and he will know what it is to be that.

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