Sea Lion Shores Awakening of the Soul

The dark shewolf strode along the frigid shores, her feet lazily dragging in the edge of the waters. She moved jauntily, easily; her languid muscles pulled heavy on her bones, signaling a sense of divine [yet uncomfortable] relaxation. It was a day like any other and the simplicity of it was a bit stifling to the wily woman. Far too many of her days had been all-consuming nothingness, fading into one another. Indie would wake and she would hunt, then she would groom herself impeccably, teeth raking finely through her inky pelt and cleansing herself of any clinging impurity. Then she would sing for no one but herself, enjoying the company of her own voice and she would dance with no one but herself, enjoying the sensations of the earth beneath her feet. It was all good fun, but it would always end with Indie becoming bored and traipsing onward, continuing her adventure up the coast and alongside the broken, shattering coast.

Indie was drawn to fire just as much as the sea and felt strong allegiances to both; but fire offered the mystery and intrigue that the femme fatale craved. Flames did not offer forgiveness, nor did it ever yield. Flames were strong, so nobody crossed them. It was an element that stoked the woman’s imagination, but she had only truly seen the lick of flames once in her life, [from afar]. In her travels Indie was able to closely examine the true destructive force of fire, thought she missed the inferno itself. It claimed an entire forest and Indie explored the detritus as she traversed the cliff, finding nothing but charred timber, ash and a dust that stung her sensitive nose. Indie continued on, pace quickened and edging a little closer to the ocean’s shore than she had before.

Humming to herself, she came upon a bathing woman. Interested in entertaining a conversation with the water nymph, Indie trotted forward and rounded the stranger. “Hello,” she purled simply, looking at the shewolf amongst the jeweled waters.