Gilded Bay ravenous debris, in disguise

Perhaps it would be better for them to leave. To head back up to the land of cold waters, where life had been simple and easy. It meant going against the old ones of course, and that was a dangerous thought, seditious and of great insult to those wise minds. It had been their decision to follow the southern currents and chase the opportunity of a new life — as it was the will of the Mother — but at this point, weary as she was of travel and the newness of it all, the creature could only think to pray to ch'eni for guidance, lest she fall away from tradition.

She squealed her discomfort in to the depths, whistled away her worries and doubts, with the hope that her sweet voice did not carry back to eager ears; the old ones had many devotees and none would take kindly to the creature's uprising. Granddaughter knew she would have to wait and see how this would pan out for them, if the Mother Sea truly had called them here for any grand purpose, and until then she would need entertainment — food too, which had been difficult to square away — and thus she turned her attention to the distant sands, and with an undulation of her tail, slid closer through the dark.

The tip of her fin crested the surface, and then as she slid deep, her tail lifted and slapped down upon the water with a pop — above her there circled three ravens and a gull, curious of her antics, and hungry too. She did not think to look upon the bank to see the shadow there, as the thoughts in her head were varied and plentiful, but as she found her way in to the depths and her dark body vanished from view, she thought: perhaps I shall goad a sky-thing down from heaven. She had seen it done before, yet not for many years.