Otter Creek of an austere ebon tide

The notion that it had been days since he had left the coastline for the region beyond had begun to occur to him. Not that he particularly missed the finality of land, it was quite the opposite. Mordecai thrived in not being confined to just one path, but having the option of choosing many — something in which he did quite a lot of. Today's choices had led him further inland than previous attempts, and so far he hadn't seen anything or encountered anything extraordinary. He didn't expect to either, and simply reveled in the adventure he found himself partaking.

Some time ago he had found the start of the creek, and while he now lingered near the start of its most level flow, the distant trickle of its miniaturized waterfalls remained. If the tracks left behind in the soft soil meant anything, he knew he had come across yet another well trafficked area by the region's residents. This fact did not trouble him, as he found himself not minding any potential company; the gold-eyed Ostrega had yet to really come across anyone who was questionable in their intent. Fully, anyway. But there were bound to be that sort here too, if experience had any say in the general demographic. He could have fallen into the very category himself, being nothing more than a stray wandering the countryside and scavenging for this and that.

He was fine with this, too.