Sea Lion Shores a change of pace

I felt like both Cairn brothers would prove to be a little overwhelming. [pets Isley]

The atramentous sheepdog cross flowed with natural ease over the sinking, undulating expanse of sand; her nimble paws scarcely stirred the golden granules that tangled within their feathers as she left the sanctuary of her den for the sea lions she loved so dearly. She had put off visiting Atoll for long, lonely weeks; the wolves that now inhabited the bay were intimidating and fearsome, and the summer heat was oppressive. Too, she had often found the heavy veil of melancholy too ponderous to carry. Now, despite her waiflike appearance, she felt better — stronger — and she wanted to while away the time with the odd-eared siren of Tara. She had even found a gift of sorts — the intact shell of a nautilus that had washed ashore. It was beautiful — and useful if one wished to carry water — and Coelacanth had dipped it again and again in the river to clean away the salt and sand, leaving a gleaming pearl, russet, and orange marvel.

The earth dipped as she neared the shoreline, the raucous barking filling her ears and her heart — long, slender legs adjusted automatically to carry her weight without faltering as she maintained her swift, legato stride. Her dancer’s musculature, honed down to fine lines that were sharp and angular in places that ought to have been smooth and curved, shone through as she danced a neat sidestep and drew still — she was not alone. Before her, and slightly to her right, was a female as red as a fox — at this distance, the color of her eyes could not easily be gleaned, but the darker cinnamon fur of her topside and tail were clearly evident along with the cream fur of her underbelly, throat, and chin. She was beautiful — but she was a stranger. The inky ingénue’s skittish and shy nature had been aroused by the events that had befallen her of late, and intently she weighed the merits of fleeing against remaining. Loneliness won over wariness, and she crept a few tremulous paces nearer, but in the next moment, she noticed him.

Atoll’s leader, the king of the bay, padded with insidious quiet through the ocean shallows toward the fox-red female. He took Coelacanth’s breath away. She had seen him before, but only as a silhouette among other silhouettes — and even at a great distance, he was clearly a large beast. At this nearer vantage point — though Seelie could not be precisely considered close to him — his hulking behemoth’s musculature was terrifying. His pelt, a fathomless black as dark as the sea in a storm, was marked with a series of salt-white stripes that resembled the bones of a rib cage, and he strode forth like a creature born to rend and destroy. His every movement seemed to hint at violence, and Coelacanth could not fully understand why Atoll had pledged her loyalty to him — they drew such a sharp contrast! Still, the siren of Tara, warm and bright and soft, had spoken of his kindness, and though it was difficult to envision, Seelie held on to that knowledge.

Setting the heavy shell carefully in the sand behind her, for she did not wish it to be taken from her, Coelacanth made a quiet, demure approach, keeping a safe distance away — she was no fighter, but could achieve breakneck speed despite her recent recovery from injury. Lifting her streamlined muzzle, she produced a soft, airy whuff of greeting, her tufted ears skimming back against her narrow skull in automatic submission as she regarded the two full-blooded wolves. Her ink-feathered tail whisked an appeasing greeting, then curled tentatively around one hock in shy indecision.