Sea Lion Shores emigration tunes

@Murgash!

 

Feathers! And so white, too! Normally, she could find a few plumes of herons if she were lucky. Fortuna had told her that only the cleanest feathers could be used, and they could be used in all sorts of charms and remedies. Some, if you tied them to thin roots, could be left in the den's furthest point drenched in shadow and keep disease from the home. Others, if you wove them with moongrass and soaked them in lit waters, could ensure healthy pups when litters arrived. They'd always been reminders of family and health, and were generally a sign of safety. 

Needless to say, she was the happiest she'd ever been on this adventure of hers as the dark girl weaved from the Keep's base, close enough to hear the lazy bellowing and lowing of the great blubber things she'd seen on the beach. Carefully, she picked her way away from the mountainside nests and their leering hosts, the falcons' shrill cries less deafening with the slow sink of night. Out past the dunes and on the cradle of the ocean, the sun loomed bright and fat on its descent beneath the waves - some said that if you were quiet enough, you could hear it hissing on the water as it was swallowed up. With the way those birds screams still rang in her ears, and with the lowing of her blubbery company, Antigone didn't bother, placing her stash of feathers on her orange dune and separating the frayed from the intact, humming to herself all the while.